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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +THE OCTOPUS +A Story of California + +by Frank Norris + + + +Book 1 + +CHAPTER I + + +Just after passing Caraher's saloon, on the County Road that ran +south from Bonneville, and that divided the Broderson ranch from +that of Los Muertos, Presley was suddenly aware of the faint and +prolonged blowing of a steam whistle that he knew must come from +the railroad shops near the depot at Bonneville. In starting out +from the ranch house that morning, he had forgotten his watch, +and was now perplexed to know whether the whistle was blowing for +twelve or for one o'clock. He hoped the former. Early that +morning he had decided to make a long excursion through the +neighbouring country, partly on foot and partly on his bicycle, +and now noon was come already, and as yet he had hardly started. +As he was leaving the house after breakfast, Mrs. Derrick had +asked him to go for the mail at Bonneville, and he had not been +able to refuse. + +He took a firmer hold of the cork grips of his handlebars--the +road being in a wretched condition after the recent hauling of +the crop--and quickened his pace. He told himself that, no +matter what the time was, he would not stop for luncheon at the +ranch house, but would push on to Guadalajara and have a Spanish +dinner at Solotari's, as he had originally planned. + +There had not been much of a crop to haul that year. Half of the +wheat on the Broderson ranch had failed entirely, and Derrick +himself had hardly raised more than enough to supply seed for the +winter's sowing. But such little hauling as there had been had +reduced the roads thereabouts to a lamentable condition, and, +during the dry season of the past few months, the layer of dust +had deepened and thickened to such an extent that more than once +Presley was obliged to dismount and trudge along on foot, pushing +his bicycle in front of him. + +It was the last half of September, the very end of the dry +season, and all Tulare County, all the vast reaches of the San +Joaquin Valley--in fact all South Central California, was bone +dry, parched, and baked and crisped after four months of +cloudless weather, when the day seemed always at noon, and the +sun blazed white hot over the valley from the Coast Range in the +west to the foothills of the Sierras in the east. + +As Presley drew near to the point where what was known as the +Lower Road struck off through the Rancho de Los Muertos, leading +on to Guadalajara, he came upon one of the county watering-tanks, +a great, iron-hooped tower of wood, straddling clumsily on its +four uprights by the roadside. Since the day of its completion, +the storekeepers and retailers of Bonneville had painted their +advertisements upon it. It was a landmark. In that reach of +level fields, the white letters upon it could be read for miles. +A watering-trough stood near by, and, as he was very thirsty, +Presley resolved to stop for a moment to get a drink. + +He drew abreast of the tank and halted there, leaning his bicycle +against the fence. A couple of men in white overalls were +repainting the surface of the tank, seated on swinging platforms +that hung by hooks from the roof. They were painting a sign--an +advertisement. It was all but finished and read, "S. Behrman, +Real Estate, Mortgages, Main Street, Bonneville, Opposite the +Post Office." On the horse-trough that stood in the shadow of +the tank was another freshly painted inscription: "S. Behrman Has +Something To Say To You." + +As Presley straightened up after drinking from the faucet at one +end of the horse-trough, the watering-cart itself laboured into +view around the turn of the Lower Road. Two mules and two +horses, white with dust, strained leisurely in the traces, moving +at a snail's pace, their limp ears marking the time; while +perched high upon the seat, under a yellow cotton wagon umbrella, +Presley recognised Hooven, one of Derrick's tenants, a German, +whom every one called "Bismarck," an excitable little man with a +perpetual grievance and an endless flow of broken English. + +"Hello, Bismarck," said Presley, as Hooven brought his team to a +standstill by the tank, preparatory to refilling. + +"Yoost der men I look for, Mist'r Praicely," cried the other, +twisting the reins around the brake. "Yoost one minute, you +wait, hey? I wanta talk mit you." + +Presley was impatient to be on his way again. A little more time +wasted, and the day would be lost. He had nothing to do with the +management of the ranch, and if Hooven wanted any advice from +him, it was so much breath wasted. These uncouth brutes of +farmhands and petty ranchers, grimed with the soil they worked +upon, were odious to him beyond words. Never could he feel in +sympathy with them, nor with their lives, their ways, their +marriages, deaths, bickerings, and all the monotonous round of +their sordid existence. + +"Well, you must be quick about it, Bismarck," he answered +sharply. "I'm late for dinner, as it is." + +"Soh, now. Two minuten, und I be mit you." He drew down the +overhanging spout of the tank to the vent in the circumference of +the cart and pulled the chain that let out the water. Then he +climbed down from the seat, jumping from the tire of the wheel, +and taking Presley by the arm led him a few steps down the road. + +"Say," he began. "Say, I want to hef some converzations mit you. +Yoost der men I want to see. Say, Caraher, he tole me dis +morgen--say, he tole me Mist'r Derrick gowun to farm der whole +demn rench hisseluf der next yahr. No more tenants. Say, +Caraher, he tole me all der tenants get der sach; Mist'r Derrick +gowun to work der whole demn rench hisseluf, hey? ME, I get der +sach alzoh, hey? You hef hear about dose ting? Say, me, I hef +on der ranch been sieben yahr--seven yahr. Do I alzoh----" + +"You'll have to see Derrick himself or Harran about that, +Bismarck," interrupted Presley, trying to draw away. "That's +something outside of me entirely." + +But Hooven was not to be put off. No doubt he had been +meditating his speech all the morning, formulating his words, +preparing his phrases. + +"Say, no, no," he continued. "Me, I wanta stay bei der place; +seven yahr I hef stay. Mist'r Derrick, he doand want dot I +should be ge-sacked. Who, den, will der ditch ge-tend? Say, you +tell 'um Bismarck hef gotta sure stay bei der place. Say, you +hef der pull mit der Governor. You speak der gut word for me." + +"Harran is the man that has the pull with his father, Bismarck," +answered Presley. "You get Harran to speak for you, and you're +all right." + +"Sieben yahr I hef stay," protested Hooven, "and who will der +ditch ge-tend, und alle dem cettles drive?" + +"Well, Harran's your man," answered Presley, preparing to mount +his bicycle. + +"Say, you hef hear about dose ting?" + +"I don't hear about anything, Bismarck. I don't know the first +thing about how the ranch is run." + +"UND DER PIPE-LINE GE-MEND," Hooven burst out, suddenly +remembering a forgotten argument. He waved an arm. "Ach, der +pipe-line bei der Mission Greek, und der waater-hole for dose +cettles. Say, he doand doo ut HIMSELLUF, berhaps, I doand tink." + +"Well, talk to Harran about it." + +"Say, he doand farm der whole demn rench bei hisseluf. Me, I +gotta stay." + +But on a sudden the water in the cart gushed over the sides from +the vent in the top with a smart sound of splashing. Hooven was +forced to turn his attention to it. Presley got his wheel under +way. + +"I hef some converzations mit Herran," Hooven called after him. +"He doand doo ut bei hisseluf, den, Mist'r Derrick; ach, no. I +stay bei der rench to drive dose cettles." + +He climbed back to his seat under the wagon umbrella, and, as he +started his team again with great cracks of his long whip, turned +to the painters still at work upon the sign and declared with +some defiance: + +"Sieben yahr; yais, sir, seiben yahr I hef been on dis rench. +Git oop, you mule you, hoop!" + +Meanwhile Presley had turned into the Lower Road. He was now on +Derrick's land, division No. I, or, as it was called, the Home +ranch, of the great Los Muertos Rancho. The road was better +here, the dust laid after the passage of Hooven's watering-cart, +and, in a few minutes, he had come to the ranch house itself, +with its white picket fence, its few flower beds, and grove of +eucalyptus trees. On the lawn at the side of the house. he saw +Harran in the act of setting out the automatic sprinkler. In the +shade of the house, by the porch, were two or three of the +greyhounds, part of the pack that were used to hunt down jack- +rabbits, and Godfrey, Harran's prize deerhound. + +Presley wheeled up the driveway and met Harran by the horse- +block. Harran was Magnus Derrick's youngest son, a very well- +looking young fellow of twenty-three or twenty-five. He had the +fine carriage that marked his father, and still further resembled +him in that he had the Derrick nose--hawk-like and prominent, +such as one sees in the later portraits of the Duke of +Wellington. He was blond, and incessant exposure to the sun had, +instead of tanning him brown, merely heightened the colour of his +cheeks. His yellow hair had a tendency to curl in a forward +direction, just in front of the ears. + +Beside him, Presley made the sharpest of contrasts. Presley +seemed to have come of a mixed origin; appeared to have a nature +more composite, a temperament more complex. Unlike Harran +Derrick, he seemed more of a character than a type. The sun had +browned his face till it was almost swarthy. His eyes were a +dark brown, and his forehead was the forehead of the +intellectual, wide and high, with a certain unmistakable lift +about it that argued education, not only of himself, but of his +people before him. The impression conveyed by his mouth and chin +was that of a delicate and highly sensitive nature, the lips thin +and loosely shut together, the chin small and rather receding. +One guessed that Presley's refinement had been gained only by a +certain loss of strength. One expected to find him nervous, +introspective, to discover that his mental life was not at all +the result of impressions and sensations that came to him from +without, but rather of thoughts and reflections germinating from +within. Though morbidly sensitive to changes in his physical +surroundings, he would be slow to act upon such sensations, would +not prove impulsive, not because he was sluggish, but because he +was merely irresolute. It could be foreseen that morally he was +of that sort who avoid evil through good taste, lack of decision, +and want of opportunity. His temperament was that of the poet; +when he told himself he had been thinking, he deceived himself. +He had, on such occasions, been only brooding. + +Some eighteen months before this time, he had been threatened +with consumption, and, taking advantage of a standing invitation +on the part of Magnus Derrick, had come to stay in the dry, even +climate of the San Joaquin for an indefinite length of time. He +was thirty years old, and had graduated and post-graduated with +high honours from an Eastern college, where he had devoted +himself to a passionate study of literature, and, more +especially, of poetry. + +It was his insatiable ambition to write verse. But up to this +time, his work had been fugitive, ephemeral, a note here and +there, heard, appreciated, and forgotten. He was in search of a +subject; something magnificent, he did not know exactly what; +some vast, tremendous theme, heroic, terrible, to be unrolled in +all the thundering progression of hexameters. + +But whatever he wrote, and in whatever fashion, Presley was +determined that his poem should be of the West, that world's +frontier of Romance, where a new race, a new people--hardy, +brave, and passionate--were building an empire; where the +tumultuous life ran like fire from dawn to dark, and from dark to +dawn again, primitive, brutal, honest, and without fear. +Something (to his idea not much) had been done to catch at that +life in passing, but its poet had not yet arisen. The few +sporadic attempts, thus he told himself, had only touched the +keynote. He strove for the diapason, the great song that should +embrace in itself a whole epoch, a complete era, the voice of an +entire people, wherein all people should be included--they and +their legends, their folk lore, their fightings, their loves and +their lusts, their blunt, grim humour, their stoicism under +stress, their adventures, their treasures found in a day and +gambled in a night, their direct, crude speech, their generosity +and cruelty, their heroism and bestiality, their religion and +profanity, their self-sacrifice and obscenity--a true and +fearless setting forth of a passing phase of history, un- +compromising, sincere; each group in its proper environment; the +valley, the plain, and the mountain; the ranch, the range, and +the mine--all this, all the traits and types of every community +from the Dakotas to the Mexicos, from Winnipeg to Guadalupe, +gathered together, swept together, welded and riven together in +one single, mighty song, the Song of the West. That was what he +dreamed, while things without names--thoughts for which no man +had yet invented words, terrible formless shapes, vague figures, +colossal, monstrous, distorted-- whirled at a gallop through his +imagination. + +As Harran came up, Presley reached down into the pouches of the +sun-bleached shooting coat he wore and drew out and handed him +the packet of letters and papers. + +"Here's the mail. I think I shall go on." + +"But dinner is ready," said Harran; "we are just sitting down." + +Presley shook his head. "No, I'm in a hurry. Perhaps I shall +have something to eat at Guadalajara. I shall be gone all day." + +He delayed a few moments longer, tightening a loose nut on his +forward wheel, while Harran, recognising his father's handwriting +on one of the envelopes, slit it open and cast his eye rapidly +over its pages. + +"The Governor is coming home," he exclaimed, "to-morrow morning +on the early train; wants me to meet him with the team at +Guadalajara; AND," he cried between his clenched teeth, as he +continued to read, "we've lost the case." + +"What case? Oh, in the matter of rates?" + +Harran nodded, his eyes flashing, his face growing suddenly +scarlet. + +"Ulsteen gave his decision yesterday," he continued, reading from +his father's letter. "He holds, Ulsteen does, that 'grain rates +as low as the new figure would amount to confiscation of +property, and that, on such a basis, the railroad could not be +operated at a legitimate profit. As he is powerless to legislate +in the matter, he can only put the rates back at what they +originally were before the commissioners made the cut, and it is +so ordered.' That's our friend S. Behrman again," added Harran, +grinding his teeth. "He was up in the city the whole of the time +the new schedule was being drawn, and he and Ulsteen and the +Railroad Commission were as thick as thieves. He has been up +there all this last week, too, doing the railroad's dirty work, +and backing Ulsteen up. 'Legitimate profit, legitimate profit,'" +he broke out. "Can we raise wheat at a legitimate profit with a +tariff of four dollars a ton for moving it two hundred miles to +tide-water, with wheat at eighty-seven cents? Why not hold us up +with a gun in our faces, and say, 'hands up,' and be done with +it?" + +He dug his boot-heel into the ground and turned away to the house +abruptly, cursing beneath his breath. + +"By the way," Presley called after him, "Hooven wants to see you. +He asked me about this idea of the Governor's of getting along +without the tenants this year. Hooven wants to stay to tend the +ditch and look after the stock. I told him to see you." + +Harran, his mind full of other things, nodded to say he +understood. Presley only waited till he had disappeared indoors, +so that he might not seem too indifferent to his trouble; then, +remounting, struck at once into a brisk pace, and, turning out +from the carriage gate, held on swiftly down the Lower Road, +going in the direction of Guadalajara. These matters, these +eternal fierce bickerings between the farmers of the San Joaquin +and the Pacific and Southwestern Railroad irritated him and +wearied him. He cared for none of these things. They did not +belong to his world. In the picture of that huge romantic West +that he saw in his imagination, these dissensions made the one +note of harsh colour that refused to enter into the great scheme +of harmony. It was material, sordid, deadly commonplace. But, +however he strove to shut his eyes to it or his ears to it, the +thing persisted and persisted. The romance seemed complete up to +that point. There it broke, there it failed, there it became +realism, grim, unlovely, unyielding. To be true--and it was the +first article of his creed to be unflinchingly true--he could not +ignore it. All the noble poetry of the ranch--the valley--seemed +in his mind to be marred and disfigured by the presence of +certain immovable facts. Just what he wanted, Presley hardly +knew. On one hand, it was his ambition to portray life as he saw +it--directly, frankly, and through no medium of personality or +temperament. But, on the other hand, as well, he wished to see +everything through a rose-coloured mist--a mist that dulled all +harsh outlines, all crude and violent colours. He told himself +that, as a part of the people, he loved the people and +sympathised with their hopes and fears, and joys and griefs; and +yet Hooven, grimy and perspiring, with his perpetual grievance +and his contracted horizon, only revolted him. He had set +himself the task of giving true, absolutely true, poetical +expression to the life of the ranch, and yet, again and again, he +brought up against the railroad, that stubborn iron barrier +against which his romance shattered itself to froth and +disintegrated, flying spume. His heart went out to the people, +and his groping hand met that of a slovenly little Dutchman, whom +it was impossible to consider seriously. He searched for the +True Romance, and, in the end, found grain rates and unjust +freight tariffs. + +"But the stuff is HERE," he muttered, as he sent his wheel +rumbling across the bridge over Broderson Creek. "The romance, +the real romance, is here somewhere. I'll get hold of it yet." + +He shot a glance about him as if in search of the inspiration. +By now he was not quite half way across the northern and +narrowest corner of Los Muertos, at this point some eight miles +wide. He was still on the Home ranch. A few miles to the south +he could just make out the line of wire fence that separated it +from the third division; and to the north, seen faint and blue +through the haze and shimmer of the noon sun, a long file of +telegraph poles showed the line of the railroad and marked +Derrick's northeast boundary. The road over which Presley was +travelling ran almost diametrically straight. In front of him, +but at a great distance, he could make out the giant live-oak and +the red roof of Hooven's barn that stood near it. + +All about him the country was flat. In all directions he could +see for miles. The harvest was just over. Nothing but stubble +remained on the ground. With the one exception of the live-oak +by Hooven's place, there was nothing green in sight. The wheat +stubble was of a dirty yellow; the ground, parched, cracked, and +dry, of a cheerless brown. By the roadside the dust lay thick +and grey, and, on either hand, stretching on toward the horizon, +losing itself in a mere smudge in the distance, ran the +illimitable parallels of the wire fence. And that was all; that +and the burnt-out blue of the sky and the steady shimmer of the +heat. + +The silence was infinite. After the harvest, small though that +harvest had been, the ranches seemed asleep. It was as though +the earth, after its period of reproduction, its pains of labour, +had been delivered of the fruit of its loins, and now slept the +sleep of exhaustion. + +It was the period between seasons, when nothing was being done, +when the natural forces seemed to hang suspended. There was no +rain, there was no wind, there was no growth, no life; the very +stubble had no force even to rot. The sun alone moved. + +Toward two o'clock, Presley reached Hooven's place, two or three +grimy frame buildings, infested with a swarm of dogs. A hog or +two wandered aimlessly about. Under a shed by the barn, a +broken-down seeder lay rusting to its ruin. But overhead, a +mammoth live-oak, the largest tree in all the country-side, +towered superb and magnificent. Grey bunches of mistletoe and +festoons of trailing moss hung from its bark. From its lowest +branch hung Hooven's meat-safe, a square box, faced with wire +screens. + +What gave a special interest to Hooven's was the fact that here +was the intersection of the Lower Road and Derrick's main +irrigating ditch, a vast trench not yet completed, which he and +Annixter, who worked the Quien Sabe ranch, were jointly +constructing. It ran directly across the road and at right +angles to it, and lay a deep groove in the field between Hooven's +and the town of Guadalajara, some three miles farther on. +Besides this, the ditch was a natural boundary between two +divisions of the Los Muertos ranch, the first and fourth. + +Presley now had the choice of two routes. His objective point +was the spring at the headwaters of Broderson Creek, in the hills +on the eastern side of the Quien Sabe ranch. The trail afforded +him a short cut thitherward. As he passed the house, Mrs. Hooven +came to the door, her little daughter Hilda, dressed in a boy's +overalls and clumsy boots, at her skirts. Minna, her oldest +daughter, a very pretty girl, whose love affairs were continually +the talk of all Los Muertos, was visible through a window of the +house, busy at the week's washing. Mrs. Hooven was a faded, +colourless woman, middle-aged and commonplace, and offering not +the least characteristic that would distinguish her from a +thousand other women of her class and kind. She nodded to +Presley, watching him with a stolid gaze from under her arm, +which she held across her forehead to shade her eyes. + +But now Presley exerted himself in good earnest. His bicycle +flew. He resolved that after all he would go to Guadalajara. He +crossed the bridge over the irrigating ditch with a brusque spurt +of hollow sound, and shot forward down the last stretch of the +Lower Road that yet intervened between Hooven's and the town. He +was on the fourth division of the ranch now, the only one whereon +the wheat had been successful, no doubt because of the Little +Mission Creek that ran through it. But he no longer occupied +himself with the landscape. His only concern was to get on as +fast as possible. He had looked forward to spending nearly the +whole day on the crest of the wooded hills in the northern corner +of the Quien Sabe ranch, reading, idling, smoking his pipe. But +now he would do well if he arrived there by the middle of the +afternoon. In a few moments he had reached the line fence that +marked the limits of the ranch. Here were the railroad tracks, +and just beyond--a huddled mass of roofs, with here and there an +adobe house on its outskirts--the little town of Guadalajara. +Nearer at hand, and directly in front of Presley, were the +freight and passenger depots of the P. and S. W., painted in the +grey and white, which seemed to be the official colours of all +the buildings owned by the corporation. The station was +deserted. No trains passed at this hour. From the direction of +the ticket window, Presley heard the unsteady chittering of the +telegraph key. In the shadow of one of the baggage trucks upon +the platform, the great yellow cat that belonged to the agent +dozed complacently, her paws tucked under her body. Three flat +cars, loaded with bright-painted farming machines, were on the +siding above the station, while, on the switch below, a huge +freight engine that lacked its cow-catcher sat back upon its +monstrous driving-wheels, motionless, solid, drawing long breaths +that were punctuated by the subdued sound of its steam-pump +clicking at exact intervals. + +But evidently it had been decreed that Presley should be stopped +at every point of his ride that day, for, as he was pushing his +bicycle across the tracks, he was surprised to hear his name +called. "Hello, there, Mr. Presley. What's the good word?" + +Presley looked up quickly, and saw Dyke, the engineer, leaning on +his folded arms from the cab window of the freight engine. But +at the prospect of this further delay, Presley was less troubled. +Dyke and he were well acquainted and the best of friends. The +picturesqueness of the engineer's life was always attractive to +Presley, and more than once he had ridden on Dyke's engine +between Guadalajara and Bonneville. Once, even, he had made the +entire run between the latter town and San Francisco in the cab. + +Dyke's home was in Guadalajara. He lived in one of the +remodelled 'dobe cottages, where his mother kept house for him. +His wife had died some five years before this time, leaving him a +little daughter, Sidney, to bring up as best he could. Dyke +himself was a heavy built, well-looking fellow, nearly twice the +weight of Presley, with great shoulders and massive, hairy arms, +and a tremendous, rumbling voice. + +"Hello, old man," answered Presley, coming up to the engine. +"What are you doing about here at this time of day? I thought +you were on the night service this month." + +"We've changed about a bit," answered the other. "Come up here +and sit down, and get out of the sun. They've held us here to +wait orders," he explained, as Presley, after leaning his bicycle +against the tender, climbed to the fireman's seat of worn green +leather. "They are changing the run of one of the crack +passenger engines down below, and are sending her up to Fresno. +There was a smash of some kind on the Bakersfield division, and +she's to hell and gone behind her time. I suppose when she +comes, she'll come a-humming. It will be stand clear and an open +track all the way to Fresno. They have held me here to let her +go by." + +He took his pipe, an old T. D. clay, but coloured to a beautiful +shiny black, from the pocket of his jumper and filled and lit it. + +"Well, I don't suppose you object to being held here," observed +Presley. "Gives you a chance to visit your mother and the little +girl." + +"And precisely they choose this day to go up to Sacramento," +answered Dyke. "Just my luck. Went up to visit my brother's +people. By the way, my brother may come down here--locate here, +I mean--and go into the hop-raising business. He's got an option +on five hundred acres just back of the town here. He says there +is going to be money in hops. I don't know; may be I'll go in +with him." + +"Why, what's the matter with railroading?" + +Dyke drew a couple of puffs on his pipe, and fixed Presley with a +glance. + +"There's this the matter with it," he said; "I'm fired." + +"Fired! You!" exclaimed Presley, turning abruptly toward him. +"That's what I'm telling you," returned Dyke grimly. + +"You don't mean it. Why, what for, Dyke?" + +"Now, YOU tell me what for," growled the other savagely. "Boy +and man, I've worked for the P. and S. W. for over ten years, and +never one yelp of a complaint did I ever hear from them. They +know damn well they've not got a steadier man on the road. And +more than that, more than that, I don't belong to the +Brotherhood. And when the strike came along, I stood by them-- +stood by the company. You know that. And you know, and they +know, that at Sacramento that time, I ran my train according to +schedule, with a gun in each hand, never knowing when I was going +over a mined culvert, and there was talk of giving me a gold +watch at the time. To hell with their gold watches! I want +ordinary justice and fair treatment. And now, when hard times +come along, and they are cutting wages, what do they do? Do they +make any discrimination in my case? Do they remember the man +that stood by them and risked his life in their service? No. +They cut my pay down just as off-hand as they do the pay of any +dirty little wiper in the yard. Cut me along with--listen to +this--cut me along with men that they had BLACK-LISTED; strikers +that they took back because they were short of hands." He drew +fiercely on his pipe. "I went to them, yes, I did; I went to the +General Office, and ate dirt. I told them I was a family man, +and that I didn't see how I was going to get along on the new +scale, and I reminded them of my service during the strike. The +swine told me that it wouldn't be fair to discriminate in favour +of one man, and that the cut must apply to all their employees +alike. Fair!" he shouted with laughter. "Fair! Hear the P. and +S. W. talking about fairness and discrimination. That's good, +that is. Well, I got furious. I was a fool, I suppose. I told +them that, in justice to myself, I wouldn't do first-class work +for third-class pay. And they said, 'Well, Mr. Dyke, you know +what you can do.' Well, I did know. I said, 'I'll ask for my +time, if you please,' and they gave it to me just as if they were +glad to be shut of me. So there you are, Presley. That's the P. +& S. W. Railroad Company of California. I am on my last run +now." + +"Shameful," declared Presley, his sympathies all aroused, now +that the trouble concerned a friend of his. "It's shameful, +Dyke. But," he added, an idea occurring to him, "that don't shut +you out from work. There are other railroads in the State that +are not controlled by the P. and S. W." + +Dyke smote his knee with his clenched fist. + +"NAME ONE." + +Presley was silent. Dyke's challenge was unanswerable. There +was a lapse in their talk, Presley drumming on the arm of the +seat, meditating on this injustice; Dyke looking off over the +fields beyond the town, his frown lowering, his teeth rasping +upon his pipestem. The station agent came to the door of the +depot, stretching and yawning. On ahead of the engine, the empty +rails of the track, reaching out toward the horizon, threw off +visible layers of heat. The telegraph key clicked incessantly. + +"So I'm going to quit," Dyke remarked after a while, his anger +somewhat subsided. "My brother and I will take up this hop +ranch. I've saved a good deal in the last ten years, and there +ought to be money in hops." + +Presley went on, remounting his bicycle, wheeling silently +through the deserted streets of the decayed and dying Mexican +town. It was the hour of the siesta. Nobody was about. There +was no business in the town. It was too close to Bonneville for +that. Before the railroad came, and in the days when the raising +of cattle was the great industry of the country, it had enjoyed a +fierce and brilliant life. Now it was moribund. The drug store, +the two bar-rooms, the hotel at the corner of the old Plaza, and +the shops where Mexican "curios" were sold to those occasional +Eastern tourists who came to visit the Mission of San Juan, +sufficed for the town's activity. + +At Solotari's, the restaurant on the Plaza, diagonally across +from the hotel, Presley ate his long-deferred Mexican dinner--an +omelette in Spanish-Mexican style, frijoles and tortillas, a +salad, and a glass of white wine. In a corner of the room, +during the whole course of his dinner, two young Mexicans (one of +whom was astonishingly handsome, after the melodramatic fashion +of his race) and an old fellow! the centenarian of the town, +decrepit beyond belief, sang an interminable love-song to the +accompaniment of a guitar and an accordion. + +These Spanish-Mexicans, decayed, picturesque, vicious, and +romantic, never failed to interest Presley. A few of them still +remained in Guadalajara, drifting from the saloon to the +restaurant, and from the restaurant to the Plaza, relics of a +former generation, standing for a different order of things, +absolutely idle, living God knew how, happy with their cigarette, +their guitar, their glass of mescal, and their siesta. The +centenarian remembered Fremont and Governor Alvarado, and the +bandit Jesus Tejeda, and the days when Los Muertos was a Spanish +grant, a veritable principality, leagues in extent, and when +there was never a fence from Visalia to Fresno. Upon this +occasion, Presley offered the old man a drink of mescal, and +excited him to talk of the things he remembered. Their talk was +in Spanish, a language with which Presley was familiar. + +"De La Cuesta held the grant of Los Muertos in those days," the +centenarian said; "a grand man. He had the power of life and +death over his people, and there was no law but his word. There +was no thought of wheat then, you may believe. It was all cattle +in those days, sheep, horses--steers, not so many--and if money +was scarce, there was always plenty to eat, and clothes enough +for all, and wine, ah, yes, by the vat, and oil too; the Mission +Fathers had that. Yes, and there was wheat as well, now that I +come to think; but a very little--in the field north of the +Mission where now it is the Seed ranch; wheat fields were there, +and also a vineyard, all on Mission grounds. Wheat, olives, and +the vine; the Fathers planted those, to provide the elements of +the Holy Sacrament--bread, oil, and wine, you understand. It was +like that, those industries began in California--from the Church; +and now," he put his chin in the air, "what would Father Ullivari +have said to such a crop as Senor Derrick plants these days? Ten +thousand acres of wheat! Nothing but wheat from the Sierra to +the Coast Range. I remember when De La Cuesta was married. He +had never seen the young lady, only her miniature portrait, +painted"--he raised a shoulder--"I do not know by whom, small, a +little thing to be held in the palm. But he fell in love with +that, and marry her he would. The affair was arranged between +him and the girl's parents. But when the time came that De La +Cuesta was to go to Monterey to meet and marry the girl, behold, +Jesus Tejeda broke in upon the small rancheros near Terrabella. +It was no time for De La Cuesta to be away, so he sent his +brother Esteban to Monterey to marry the girl by proxy for him. +I went with Esteban. We were a company, nearly a hundred men. +And De La Cuesta sent a horse for the girl to ride, white, pure +white; and the saddle was of red leather; the head-stall, the +bit, and buckles, all the metal work, of virgin silver. Well, +there was a ceremony in the Monterey Mission, and Esteban, in the +name of his brother, was married to the girl. On our way back, +De La Cuesta rode out to meet us. His company met ours at Agatha +dos Palos. Never will I forget De La Cuesta's face as his eyes +fell upon the girl. It was a look, a glance, come and gone like +THAT," he snapped his fingers. "No one but I saw it, but I was +close by. There was no mistaking that look. De La Cuesta was +disappointed." + +"And the girl?" demanded Presley. + +"She never knew. Ah, he was a grand gentleman, De La Cuesta. +Always he treated her as a queen. Never was husband more +devoted, more respectful, more chivalrous. But love?" The old +fellow put his chin in the air, shutting his eyes in a knowing +fashion. "It was not there. I could tell. They were married +over again at the Mission San Juan de Guadalajara--OUR Mission-- +and for a week all the town of Guadalajara was in fete. There +were bull-fights in the Plaza--this very one--for five days, and +to each of his tenants-in-chief, De La Cuesta gave a horse, a +barrel of tallow, an ounce of silver, and half an ounce of gold +dust. Ah, those were days. That was a gay life. This"--he made +a comprehensive gesture with his left hand--"this is stupid." + +"You may well say that," observed Presley moodily, discouraged by +the other's talk. All his doubts and uncertainty had returned to +him. Never would he grasp the subject of his great poem. To- +day, the life was colourless. Romance was dead. He had lived +too late. To write of the past was not what he desired. Reality +was what he longed for, things that he had seen. Yet how to make +this compatible with romance. He rose, putting on his hat, +offering the old man a cigarette. The centenarian accepted with +the air of a grandee, and extended his horn snuff-box. Presley +shook his head. + +"I was born too late for that," he declared, "for that, and for +many other things. Adios." + +"You are travelling to-day, senor?" + +"A little turn through the country, to get the kinks out of the +muscles," Presley answered. "I go up into the Quien Sabe, into +the high country beyond the Mission." + +"Ah, the Quien Sabe rancho. The sheep are grazing there this +week." + +Solotari, the keeper of the restaurant, explained: + +"Young Annixter sold his wheat stubble on the ground to the sheep +raisers off yonder;" he motioned eastward toward the Sierra +foothills. "Since Sunday the herd has been down. Very clever, +that young Annixter. He gets a price for his stubble, which else +he would have to burn, and also manures his land as the sheep +move from place to place. A true Yankee, that Annixter, a good +gringo." + +After his meal, Presley once more mounted his bicycle, and +leaving the restaurant and the Plaza behind him, held on through +the main street of the drowsing town--the street that farther on +developed into the road which turned abruptly northward and led +onward through the hop-fields and the Quien Sabe ranch toward the +Mission of San Juan. + +The Home ranch of the Quien Sabe was in the little triangle +bounded on the south by the railroad, on the northwest by +Broderson Creek, and on the east by the hop fields and the +Mission lands. It was traversed in all directions, now by the +trail from Hooven's, now by the irrigating ditch--the same which +Presley had crossed earlier in the day--and again by the road +upon which Presley then found himself. In its centre were +Annixter's ranch house and barns, topped by the skeleton-like +tower of the artesian well that was to feed the irrigating ditch. +Farther on, the course of Broderson Creek was marked by a curved +line of grey-green willows, while on the low hills to the north, +as Presley advanced, the ancient Mission of San Juan de +Guadalajara, with its belfry tower and red-tiled roof, began to +show itself over the crests of the venerable pear trees that +clustered in its garden. + +When Presley reached Annixter's ranch house, he found young +Annixter himself stretched in his hammock behind the mosquito-bar +on the front porch, reading "David Copperfield," and gorging +himself with dried prunes. + +Annixter--after the two had exchanged greetings--complained of +terrific colics all the preceding night. His stomach was out of +whack, but you bet he knew how to take care of himself; the last +spell, he had consulted a doctor at Bonneville, a gibbering busy- +face who had filled him up to the neck with a dose of some +hogwash stuff that had made him worse--a healthy lot the doctors +knew, anyhow. HIS case was peculiar. HE knew; prunes were what +he needed, and by the pound. + +Annixter, who worked the Quien Sabe ranch--some four thousand +acres of rich clay and heavy loams--was a very young man, younger +even than Presley, like him a college graduate. He looked never +a year older than he was. He was smooth-shaven and lean built. +But his youthful appearance was offset by a certain male cast of +countenance, the lower lip thrust out, the chin large and deeply +cleft. His university course had hardened rather than polished +him. He still remained one of the people, rough almost to +insolence, direct in speech, intolerant in his opinions, relying +upon absolutely no one but himself; yet, with all this, of an +astonishing degree of intelligence, and possessed of an executive +ability little short of positive genius. He was a ferocious +worker, allowing himself no pleasures, and exacting the same +degree of energy from all his subordinates. He was widely hated, +and as widely trusted. Every one spoke of his crusty temper and +bullying disposition, invariably qualifying the statement with a +commendation of his resources and capabilities. The devil of a +driver, a hard man to get along with, obstinate, contrary, +cantankerous; but brains! No doubt of that; brains to his boots. +One would like to see the man who could get ahead of him on a +deal. Twice he had been shot at, once from ambush on Osterman's +ranch, and once by one of his own men whom he had kicked from the +sacking platform of his harvester for gross negligence. At +college, he had specialised on finance, political economy, and +scientific agriculture. After his graduation (he stood almost at +the very top of his class) he had returned and obtained the +degree of civil engineer. Then suddenly he had taken a notion +that a practical knowledge of law was indispensable to a modern +farmer. In eight months he did the work of three years, studying +for his bar examinations. His method of study was +characteristic. He reduced all the material of his text-books to +notes. Tearing out the leaves of these note-books, he pasted +them upon the walls of his room; then, in his shirt-sleeves, a +cheap cigar in his teeth, his hands in his pockets, he walked +around and around the room, scowling fiercely at his notes, +memorising, devouring, digesting. At intervals, he drank great +cupfuls of unsweetened, black coffee. When the bar examinations +were held, he was admitted at the very head of all the +applicants, and was complimented by the judge. Immediately +afterwards, he collapsed with nervous prostration; his stomach +"got out of whack," and he all but died in a Sacramento boarding- +house, obstinately refusing to have anything to do with doctors, +whom he vituperated as a rabble of quacks, dosing himself with a +patent medicine and stuffing himself almost to bursting with +liver pills and dried prunes. + +He had taken a trip to Europe after this sickness to put himself +completely to rights. He intended to be gone a year, but +returned at the end of six weeks, fulminating abuse of European +cooking. Nearly his entire time had been spent in Paris; but of +this sojourn he had brought back but two souvenirs, an electro- +plated bill-hook and an empty bird cage which had tickled his +fancy immensely. + +He was wealthy. Only a year previous to this his father--a +widower, who had amassed a fortune in land speculation--had died, +and Annixter, the only son, had come into the inheritance. + +For Presley, Annixter professed a great admiration, holding in +deep respect the man who could rhyme words, deferring to him +whenever there was question of literature or works of fiction. +No doubt, there was not much use in poetry, and as for novels, to +his mind, there were only Dickens's works. Everything else was a +lot of lies. But just the same, it took brains to grind out a +poem. It wasn't every one who could rhyme "brave" and "glaive," +and make sense out of it. Sure not. + +But Presley's case was a notable exception. On no occasion was +Annixter prepared to accept another man's opinion without +reserve. In conversation with him, it was almost impossible to +make any direct statement, however trivial, that he would accept +without either modification or open contradiction. He had a +passion for violent discussion. He would argue upon every +subject in the range of human knowledge, from astronomy to the +tariff, from the doctrine of predestination to the height of a +horse. Never would he admit himself to be mistaken; when +cornered, he would intrench himself behind the remark, "Yes, +that's all very well. In some ways, it is, and then, again, in +some ways, it ISN'T." + +Singularly enough, he and Presley were the best of friends. More +than once, Presley marvelled at this state of affairs, telling +himself that he and Annixter had nothing in common. In all his +circle of acquaintances, Presley was the one man with whom +Annixter had never quarrelled. The two men were diametrically +opposed in temperament. Presley was easy-going; Annixter, alert. +Presley was a confirmed dreamer, irresolute, inactive, with a +strong tendency to melancholy; the young farmer was a man of +affairs, decisive, combative, whose only reflection upon his +interior economy was a morbid concern in the vagaries of his +stomach. Yet the two never met without a mutual pleasure, taking +a genuine interest in each other's affairs, and often putting +themselves to great inconvenience to be of trifling service to +help one another. + +As a last characteristic, Annixter pretended to be a woman-hater, +for no other reason than that he was a very bull-calf of +awkwardness in feminine surroundings. Feemales! Rot! There was +a fine way for a man to waste his time and his good money, lally +gagging with a lot of feemales. No, thank you; none of it in +HIS, if you please. Once only he had an affair--a timid, little +creature in a glove-cleaning establishment in Sacramento, whom he +had picked up, Heaven knew how. After his return to his ranch, a +correspondence had been maintained between the two, Annixter +taking the precaution to typewrite his letters, and never +affixing his signature, in an excess of prudence. He furthermore +made carbon copies of all his letters, filing them away in a +compartment of his safe. Ah, it would be a clever feemale who +would get him into a mess. Then, suddenly smitten with a panic +terror that he had committed himself, that he was involving +himself too deeply, he had abruptly sent the little woman about +her business. It was his only love affair. After that, he kept +himself free. No petticoats should ever have a hold on him. +Sure not. + +As Presley came up to the edge of the porch, pushing his bicycle +in front of him, Annixter excused himself for not getting up, +alleging that the cramps returned the moment he was off his back. + +"What are you doing up this way?" he demanded. + +"Oh, just having a look around," answered Presley. "How's the +ranch?" + +"Say," observed the other, ignoring his question, "what's this I +hear about Derrick giving his tenants the bounce, and working Los +Muertos himself--working ALL his land?" + +Presley made a sharp movement of impatience with his free hand. +"I've heard nothing else myself since morning. I suppose it must +be so." + +"Huh!" grunted Annixter, spitting out a prune stone. "You give +Magnus Derrick my compliments and tell him he's a fool." +"What do you mean?" + +"I suppose Derrick thinks he's still running his mine, and that +the same principles will apply to getting grain out of the earth +as to getting gold. Oh, let him go on and see where he brings +up. That's right, there's your Western farmer," he exclaimed +contemptuously. "Get the guts out of your land; work it to +death; never give it a rest. Never alternate your crop, and then +when your soil is exhausted, sit down and roar about hard times." + +"I suppose Magnus thinks the land has had rest enough these last +two dry seasons," observed Presley. "He has raised no crop to +speak of for two years. The land has had a good rest." + +"Ah, yes, that sounds well," Annixter contradicted, unwilling to +be convinced. "In a way, the land's been rested, and then, +again, in a way, it hasn't." + +But Presley, scenting an argument, refrained from answering, and +bethought himself of moving on. + +"I'm going to leave my wheel here for a while, Buck," he said, +"if you don't mind. I'm going up to the spring, and the road is +rough between here and there." + +"Stop in for dinner on your way back," said Annixter. "There'll +be a venison steak. One of the boys got a deer over in the +foothills last week. Out of season, but never mind that. I +can't eat it. This stomach of mine wouldn't digest sweet oil to- +day. Get here about six." + +"Well, maybe I will, thank you," said Presley, moving off. "By +the way," he added, "I see your barn is about done." + +"You bet," answered Annixter. "In about a fortnight now she'll +be all ready." + +"It's a big barn," murmured Presley, glancing around the angle of +the house toward where the great structure stood. + +"Guess we'll have to have a dance there before we move the stock +in," observed Annixter. "That's the custom all around here." + +Presley took himself off, but at the gate Annixter called after +him, his mouth full of prunes, "Say, take a look at that herd of +sheep as you go up. They are right off here to the east of the +road, about half a mile from here. I guess that's the biggest +lot of sheep YOU ever saw. You might write a poem about 'em. +Lamb--ram; sheep graze--sunny days. Catch on?" + +Beyond Broderson Creek, as Presley advanced, tramping along on +foot now, the land opened out again into the same vast spaces of +dull brown earth, sprinkled with stubble, such as had been +characteristic of Derrick's ranch. To the east the reach seemed +infinite, flat, cheerless, heat-ridden, unrolling like a gigantic +scroll toward the faint shimmer of the distant horizons, with +here and there an isolated live-oak to break the sombre monotony. +But bordering the road to the westward, the surface roughened and +raised, clambering up to the higher ground, on the crest of which +the old Mission and its surrounding pear trees were now plainly +visible. + +Just beyond the Mission, the road bent abruptly eastward, +striking off across the Seed ranch. But Presley left the road at +this point, going on across the open fields. There was no longer +any trail. It was toward three o'clock. The sun still spun, a +silent, blazing disc, high in the heavens, and tramping through +the clods of uneven, broken plough was fatiguing work. The slope +of the lowest foothills begun, the surface of the country became +rolling, and, suddenly, as he topped a higher ridge, Presley came +upon the sheep. + +Already he had passed the larger part of the herd--an intervening +rise of ground having hidden it from sight. Now, as he turned +half way about, looking down into the shallow hollow between him +and the curve of the creek, he saw them very plainly. The fringe +of the herd was some two hundred yards distant, but its farther +side, in that illusive shimmer of hot surface air, seemed miles +away. The sheep were spread out roughly in the shape of a figure +eight, two larger herds connected by a smaller, and were headed +to the southward, moving slowly, grazing on the wheat stubble as +they proceeded. But the number seemed incalculable. Hundreds +upon hundreds upon hundreds of grey, rounded backs, all exactly +alike, huddled, close-packed, alive, hid the earth from sight. +It was no longer an aggregate of individuals. It was a mass--a +compact, solid, slowly moving mass, huge, without form, like a +thick-pressed growth of mushrooms, spreading out in all +directions over the earth. From it there arose a vague murmur, +confused, inarticulate, like the sound of very distant surf, +while all the air in the vicinity was heavy with the warm, +ammoniacal odour of the thousands of crowding bodies. + +All the colours of the scene were sombre--the brown of the earth, +the faded yellow of the dead stubble, the grey of the myriad of +undulating backs. Only on the far side of the herd, erect, +motionless--a single note of black, a speck, a dot--the shepherd +stood, leaning upon an empty water-trough, solitary, grave, +impressive. + +For a few moments, Presley stood, watching. Then, as he started +to move on, a curious thing occurred. At first, he thought he +had heard some one call his name. He paused, listening; there +was no sound but the vague noise of the moving sheep. Then, as +this first impression passed, it seemed to him that he had been +beckoned to. Yet nothing stirred; except for the lonely figure +beyond the herd there was no one in sight. He started on again, +and in half a dozen steps found himself looking over his +shoulder. Without knowing why, he looked toward the shepherd; +then halted and looked a second time and a third. Had the +shepherd called to him? Presley knew that he had heard no +voice. Brusquely, all his attention seemed riveted upon this +distant figure. He put one forearm over his eyes, to keep off +the sun, gazing across the intervening herd. Surely, the +shepherd had called him. But at the next instant he started, +uttering an exclamation under his breath. The far-away speck of +black became animated. Presley remarked a sweeping gesture. +Though the man had not beckoned to him before, there was no doubt +that he was beckoning now. Without any hesitation, and +singularly interested in the incident, Presley turned sharply +aside and hurried on toward the shepherd, skirting the herd, +wondering all the time that he should answer the call with so +little question, so little hesitation. + +But the shepherd came forward to meet Presley, followed by one of +his dogs. As the two men approached each other, Presley, closely +studying the other, began to wonder where he had seen him before. +It must have been a very long time ago, upon one of his previous +visits to the ranch. Certainly, however, there was something +familiar in the shepherd's face and figure. When they came +closer to each other, and Presley could see him more distinctly, +this sense of a previous acquaintance was increased and +sharpened. + +The shepherd was a man of about thirty-five. He was very lean +and spare. His brown canvas overalls were thrust into laced +boots. A cartridge belt without any cartridges encircled his +waist. A grey flannel shirt, open at the throat, showed his +breast, tanned and ruddy. He wore no hat. His hair was very +black and rather long. A pointed beard covered his chin, growing +straight and fine from the hollow cheeks. The absence of any +covering for his head was, no doubt, habitual with him, for his +face was as brown as an Indian's--a ruddy brown quite different +from Presley's dark olive. To Presley's morbidly keen +observation, the general impression of the shepherd's face was +intensely interesting. It was uncommon to an astonishing degree. +Presley's vivid imagination chose to see in it the face of an +ascetic, of a recluse, almost that of a young seer. So must have +appeared the half-inspired shepherds of the Hebraic legends, the +younger prophets of Israel, dwellers in the wilderness, beholders +of visions, having their existence in a continual dream, talkers +with God, gifted with strange powers. + +Suddenly, at some twenty paces distant from the approaching +shepherd, Presley stopped short, his eyes riveted upon the other. + +"Vanamee!" he exclaimed. + +The shepherd smiled and came forward, holding out his hands, +saying, "I thought it was you. When I saw you come over the +hill, I called you." + +"But not with your voice," returned Presley. "I knew that some +one wanted me. I felt it. I should have remembered that you +could do that kind of thing." + +"I have never known it to fail. It helps with the sheep." + +"With the sheep?" + +"In a way. I can't tell exactly how. We don't understand these +things yet. There are times when, if I close my eyes and dig my +fists into my temples, I can hold the entire herd for perhaps a +minute. Perhaps, though, it's imagination, who knows? But it's +good to see you again. How long has it been since the last time? +Two, three, nearly five years." + +It was more than that. It was six years since Presley and +Vanamee had met, and then it had been for a short time only, +during one of the shepherd's periodical brief returns to that +part of the country. During a week he and Presley had been much +together, for the two were devoted friends. Then, as abruptly, +as mysteriously as he had come, Vanamee disappeared. Presley +awoke one morning to find him gone. Thus, it had been with +Vanamee for a period of sixteen years. He lived his life in the +unknown, one could not tell where--in the desert, in the +mountains, throughout all the vast and vague South-west, +solitary, strange. Three, four, five years passed. The shepherd +would be almost forgotten. Never the most trivial scrap of +information as to his whereabouts reached Los Muertos. He had +melted off into the surface-shimmer of the desert, into the +mirage; he sank below the horizons; he was swallowed up in the +waste of sand and sage. Then, without warning, he would +reappear, coming in from the wilderness, emerging from the +unknown. No one knew him well. In all that countryside he had +but three friends, Presley, Magnus Derrick, and the priest at the +Mission of San Juan de Guadalajara, Father Sarria. He remained +always a mystery, living a life half-real, half-legendary. In +all those years he did not seem to have grown older by a single +day. At this time, Presley knew him to be thirty-six years of +age. But since the first day the two had met, the shepherd's +face and bearing had, to his eyes, remained the same. At this +moment, Presley was looking into the same face he had first seen +many, many years ago. It was a face stamped with an unspeakable +sadness, a deathless grief, the permanent imprint of a tragedy +long past, but yet a living issue. Presley told himself that it +was impossible to look long into Vanamee's eyes without knowing +that here was a man whose whole being had been at one time +shattered and riven to its lowest depths, whose life had suddenly +stopped at a certain moment of its development. + +The two friends sat down upon the ledge of the watering-trough, +their eyes wandering incessantly toward the slow moving herd, +grazing on the wheat stubble, moving southward as they grazed. + +"Where have you come from this time?" Presley had asked. "Where +have you kept yourself?" + +The other swept the horizon to the south and east with a vague +gesture. + +"Off there, down to the south, very far off. So many places that +I can't remember. I went the Long Trail this time; a long, long +ways. Arizona, The Mexicos, and, then, afterwards, Utah and +Nevada, following the horizon, travelling at hazard. Into +Arizona first, going in by Monument Pass, and then on to the +south, through the country of the Navajos, down by the Aga Thia +Needle--a great blade of red rock jutting from out the desert, +like a knife thrust. Then on and on through The Mexicos, all +through the Southwest, then back again in a great circle by +Chihuahua and Aldama to Laredo, to Torreon, and Albuquerque. +From there across the Uncompahgre plateau into the Uintah +country; then at last due west through Nevada to California and +to the valley of the San Joaquin." +His voice lapsed to a monotone, his eyes becoming fixed; he +continued to speak as though half awake, his thoughts elsewhere, +seeing again in the eye of his mind the reach of desert and red +hill, the purple mountain, the level stretch of alkali, leper +white, all the savage, gorgeous desolation of the Long Trail. + +He ignored Presley for the moment, but, on the other hand, +Presley himself gave him but half his attention. The return of +Vanamee had stimulated the poet's memory. He recalled the +incidents of Vanamee's life, reviewing again that terrible drama +which had uprooted his soul, which had driven him forth a +wanderer, a shunner of men, a sojourner in waste places. He was, +strangely enough, a college graduate and a man of wide reading +and great intelligence, but he had chosen to lead his own life, +which was that of a recluse. + +Of a temperament similar in many ways to Presley's, there were +capabilities in Vanamee that were not ordinarily to be found in +the rank and file of men. Living close to nature, a poet by +instinct, where Presley was but a poet by training, there +developed in him a great sensitiveness to beauty and an almost +abnormal capacity for great happiness and great sorrow; he felt +things intensely, deeply. He never forgot. It was when he was +eighteen or nineteen, at the formative and most impressionable +period of his life, that he had met Angele Varian. Presley +barely remembered her as a girl of sixteen, beautiful almost +beyond expression, who lived with an aged aunt on the Seed ranch +back of the Mission. At this moment he was trying to recall how +she looked, with her hair of gold hanging in two straight plaits +on either side of her face, making three-cornered her round, +white forehead; her wonderful eyes, violet blue, heavy lidded, +with their astonishing upward slant toward the temples, the slant +that gave a strange, oriental cast to her face, perplexing, +enchanting. He remembered the Egyptian fulness of the lips, the +strange balancing movement of her head upon her slender neck, the +same movement that one sees in a snake at poise. Never had he +seen a girl more radiantly beautiful, never a beauty so strange, +so troublous, so out of all accepted standards. It was small +wonder that Vanamee had loved her, and less wonder, still, that +his love had been so intense, so passionate, so part of himself. +Angele had loved him with a love no less than his own. It was +one of those legendary passions that sometimes occur, idyllic, +untouched by civilisation, spontaneous as the growth of trees, +natural as dew-fall, strong as the firm-seated mountains. + +At the time of his meeting with Angele, Vanamee was living on the +Los Muertos ranch. It was there he had chosen to spend one of +his college vacations. But he preferred to pass it in out-of- +door work, sometimes herding cattle, sometimes pitching hay, +sometimes working with pick and dynamite-stick on the ditches in +the fourth division of the ranch, riding the range, mending +breaks in the wire fences, making himself generally useful. +College bred though he was, the life pleased him. He was, as he +desired, close to nature, living the full measure of life, a +worker among workers, taking enjoyment in simple pleasures, +healthy in mind and body. He believed in an existence passed in +this fashion in the country, working hard, eating full, drinking +deep, sleeping dreamlessly. + +But every night, after supper, he saddled his pony and rode over +to the garden of the old Mission. The 'dobe dividing wall on +that side, which once had separated the Mission garden and the +Seed ranch, had long since crumbled away, and the boundary +between the two pieces of ground was marked only by a line of +venerable pear trees. Here, under these trees, he found Angele +awaiting him, and there the two would sit through the hot, still +evening, their arms about each other, watching the moon rise over +the foothills, listening to the trickle of the water in the moss- +encrusted fountain in the garden, and the steady croak of the +great frogs that lived in the damp north corner of the enclosure. +Through all one summer the enchantment of that new-found, +wonderful love, pure and untainted, filled the lives of each of +them with its sweetness. The summer passed, the harvest moon +came and went. The nights were very dark. In the deep shade of +the pear trees they could no longer see each other. When they +met at the rendezvous, Vanamee found her only with his groping +hands. They did not speak, mere words were useless between them. +Silently as his reaching hands touched her warm body, he took her +in his arms, searching for her lips with his. Then one night the +tragedy had suddenly leaped from out the shadow with the +abruptness of an explosion. + +It was impossible afterwards to reconstruct the manner of its +occurrence. To Angele's mind--what there was left of it--the +matter always remained a hideous blur, a blot, a vague, terrible +confusion. No doubt they two had been watched; the plan +succeeded too well for any other supposition. One moonless +night, Angele, arriving under the black shadow of the pear trees +a little earlier than usual, found the apparently familiar figure +waiting for her. All unsuspecting she gave herself to the +embrace of a strange pair of arms, and Vanamee arriving but a +score of moments later, stumbled over her prostrate body, inert +and unconscious, in the shadow of the overspiring trees. + +Who was the Other? Angele was carried to her home on the Seed +ranch, delirious, all but raving, and Vanamee, with knife and +revolver ready, ranged the country-side like a wolf. He was not +alone. The whole county rose, raging, horror-struck. Posse +after posse was formed, sent out, and returned, without so much +as a clue. Upon no one could even the shadow of suspicion be +thrown. The Other had withdrawn into an impenetrable mystery. +There he remained. He never was found; he never was so much as +heard of. A legend arose about him, this prowler of the night, +this strange, fearful figure, with an unseen face, swooping in +there from out the darkness, come and gone in an instant, but +leaving behind him a track of terror and death and rage and +undying grief. Within the year, in giving birth to the child, +Angele had died. + +The little babe was taken by Angele's parents, and Angele was +buried in the Mission garden near to the aged, grey sun dial. +Vanamee stood by during the ceremony, but half conscious of what +was going forward. At the last moment he had stepped forward, +looked long into the dead face framed in its plaits of gold hair, +the hair that made three-cornered the round, white forehead; +looked again at the closed eyes, with their perplexing upward +slant toward the temples, oriental, bizarre; at the lips with +their Egyptian fulness; at the sweet, slender neck; the long, +slim hands; then abruptly turned about. The last clods were +filling the grave at a time when he was already far away, his +horse's head turned toward the desert. + +For two years no syllable was heard of him. It was believed that +he had killed himself. But Vanamee had no thought of that. For +two years he wandered through Arizona, living in the desert, in +the wilderness, a recluse, a nomad, an ascetic. But, doubtless, +all his heart was in the little coffin in the Mission garden. +Once in so often he must come back thither. One day he was seen +again in the San Joaquin. The priest, Father Sarria, returning +from a visit to the sick at Bonneville, met him on the Upper +Road. +Eighteen years had passed since Angele had died, but the thread +of Vanamee's life had been snapped. Nothing remained now but the +tangled ends. He had never forgotten. The long, dull ache, the +poignant grief had now become a part of him. Presley knew this +to be so. + +While Presley had been reflecting upon all this, Vanamee had +continued to speak. Presley, however, had not been wholly +inattentive. While his memory was busy reconstructing the +details of the drama of the shepherd's life, another part of his +brain had been swiftly registering picture after picture that +Vanamee's monotonous flow of words struck off, as it were, upon a +steadily moving scroll. The music of the unfamiliar names that +occurred in his recital was a stimulant to the poet's +imagination. Presley had the poet's passion for expressive, +sonorous names. As these came and went in Vanamee's monotonous +undertones, like little notes of harmony in a musical +progression, he listened, delighted with their resonance. - +Navajo, Quijotoa, Uintah, Sonora, Laredo, Uncompahgre--to him +they were so many symbols. It was his West that passed, +unrolling there before the eye of his mind: the open, heat- +scourged round of desert; the mesa, like a vast altar, shimmering +purple in the royal sunset; the still, gigantic mountains, +heaving into the sky from out the canyons; the strenuous, fierce +life of isolated towns, lost and forgotten, down there, far off, +below the horizon. Abruptly his great poem, his Song of the +West, leaped up again in his imagination. For the moment, he all +but held it. It was there, close at hand. In another instant he +would grasp it. + +"Yes, yes," he exclaimed, "I can see it all. The desert, the +mountains, all wild, primordial, untamed. How I should have +loved to have been with you. Then, perhaps, I should have got +hold of my idea." + +"Your idea?" + +"The great poem of the West. It's that which I want to write. +Oh, to put it all into hexameters; strike the great iron note; +sing the vast, terrible song; the song of the People; the +forerunners of empire!" + +Vanamee understood him perfectly. He nodded gravely. + +"Yes, it is there. It is Life, the primitive, simple, direct +Life, passionate, tumultuous. Yes, there is an epic there." + +Presley caught at the word. It had never before occurred to him. + +"Epic, yes, that's it. It is the epic I'm searching for. And +HOW I search for it. You don't know. It is sometimes almost an +agony. Often and often I can feel it right there, there, at my +finger-tips, but I never quite catch it. It always eludes me. I +was born too late. Ah, to get back to that first clear-eyed view +of things, to see as Homer saw, as Beowulf saw, as the Nibelungen +poets saw. The life is here, the same as then; the Poem is here; +my West is here; the primeval, epic life is here, here under our +hands, in the desert, in the mountain, on the ranch, all over +here, from Winnipeg to Guadalupe. It is the man who is lacking, +the poet; we have been educated away from it all. We are out of +touch. We are out of tune." + +Vanamee heard him to the end, his grave, sad face thoughtful and +attentive. Then he rose. + +"I am going over to the Mission," he said, "to see Father Sarria. +I have not seen him yet." + +"How about the sheep?" + +"The dogs will keep them in hand, and I shall not be gone long. +Besides that, I have a boy here to help. He is over yonder on +the other side of the herd. We can't see him from here." + +Presley wondered at the heedlessness of leaving the sheep so +slightly guarded, but made no comment, and the two started off +across the field in the direction of the Mission church. + +"Well, yes, it is there--your epic," observed Vanamee, as they +went along. "But why write? Why not LIVE in it? Steep oneself +in the heat of the desert, the glory of the sunset, the blue haze +of the mesa and the canyon." + +"As you have done, for instance?" + +Vanamee nodded. + +"No, I could not do that," declared Presley; "I want to go back, +but not so far as you. I feel that I must compromise. I must +find expression. I could not lose myself like that in your +desert. When its vastness overwhelmed me, or its beauty dazzled +me, or its loneliness weighed down upon me, I should have to +record my impressions. Otherwise, I should suffocate." + +"Each to his own life," observed Vanamee. + +The Mission of San Juan, built of brown 'dobe blocks, covered +with yellow plaster, that at many points had dropped away from +the walls, stood on the crest of a low rise of the ground, facing +to the south. A covered colonnade, paved with round, worn +bricks, from whence opened the doors of the abandoned cells, once +used by the monks, adjoined it on the left. The roof was of +tiled half-cylinders, split longitudinally, and laid in alternate +rows, now concave, now convex. The main body of the church +itself was at right angles to the colonnade, and at the point of +intersection rose the belfry tower, an ancient campanile, where +swung the three cracked bells, the gift of the King of Spain. +Beyond the church was the Mission garden and the graveyard that +overlooked the Seed ranch in a little hollow beyond. + +Presley and Vanamee went down the long colonnade to the last door +next the belfry tower, and Vanamee pulled the leather thong that +hung from a hole in the door, setting a little bell jangling +somewhere in the interior. The place, but for this noise, was +shrouded in a Sunday stillness, an absolute repose. Only at +intervals, one heard the trickle of the unseen fountain, and the +liquid cooing of doves in the garden. + +Father Sarria opened the door. He was a small man, somewhat +stout, with a smooth and shiny face. He wore a frock coat that +was rather dirty, slippers, and an old yachting cap of blue +cloth, with a broken leather vizor. He was smoking a cheap +cigar, very fat and black. + +But instantly he recognised Vanamee. His face went all alight +with pleasure and astonishment. It seemed as if he would never +have finished shaking both his hands; and, as it was, he released +but one of them, patting him affectionately on the shoulder with +the other. He was voluble in his welcome, talking partly in +Spanish, partly in English. +So he had come back again, this great fellow, tanned as an +Indian, lean as an Indian, with an Indian's long, black hair. +But he had not changed, not in the very least. His beard had not +grown an inch. Aha! The rascal, never to give warning, to drop +down, as it were, from out the sky. Such a hermit! To live in +the desert! A veritable Saint Jerome. Did a lion feed him down +there in Arizona, or was it a raven, like Elijah? The good God +had not fattened him, at any rate, and, apropos, he was just +about to dine himself. He had made a salad from his own lettuce. +The two would dine with him, eh? For this, my son, that was lost +is found again. + +But Presley excused himself. Instinctively, he felt that Sarria +and Vanamee wanted to talk of things concerning which he was an +outsider. It was not at all unlikely that Vanamee would spend +half the night before the high altar in the church. + +He took himself away, his mind still busy with Vanamee's +extraordinary life and character. But, as he descended the hill, +he was startled by a prolonged and raucous cry, discordant, very +harsh, thrice repeated at exact intervals, and, looking up, he +saw one of Father Sarria's peacocks balancing himself upon the +topmost wire of the fence, his long tail trailing, his neck +outstretched, filling the air with his stupid outcry, for no +reason than the desire to make a noise. + +About an hour later, toward four in the afternoon, Presley +reached the spring at the head of the little canyon in the +northeast corner of the Quien Sabe ranch, the point toward which +he had been travelling since early in the forenoon. The place +was not without its charm. Innumerable live-oaks overhung the +canyon, and Broderson Creek--there a mere rivulet, running down +from the spring--gave a certain coolness to the air. It was one +of the few spots thereabouts that had survived the dry season of +the last year. Nearly all the other springs had dried +completely, while Mission Creek on Derrick's ranch was nothing +better than a dusty cutting in the ground, filled with brittle, +concave flakes of dried and sun-cracked mud. + +Presley climbed to the summit of one of the hills--the highest-- +that rose out of the canyon, from the crest of which he could see +for thirty, fifty, sixty miles down the valley, and, filling his +pipe, smoked lazily for upwards of an hour, his head empty of +thought, allowing himself to succumb to a pleasant, gentle +inanition, a little drowsy comfortable in his place, prone upon +the ground, warmed just enough by such sunlight as filtered +through the live-oaks, soothed by the good tobacco and the +prolonged murmur of the spring and creek. By degrees, the sense +of his own personality became blunted, the little wheels and cogs +of thought moved slower and slower; consciousness dwindled to a +point, the animal in him stretched itself, purring. A delightful +numbness invaded his mind and his body. He was not asleep, he +was not awake, stupefied merely, lapsing back to the state of the +faun, the satyr. + +After a while, rousing himself a little, he shifted his position +and, drawing from the pocket of his shooting coat his little +tree-calf edition of the Odyssey, read far into the twenty-first +book, where, after the failure of all the suitors to bend +Ulysses's bow, it is finally put, with mockery, into his own +hands. Abruptly the drama of the story roused him from all his +languor. In an instant he was the poet again, his nerves +tingling, alive to every sensation, responsive to every +impression. The desire of creation, of composition, grew big +within him. Hexameters of his own clamoured, tumultuous, in his +brain. Not for a long time had he "felt his poem," as he called +this sensation, so poignantly. For an instant he told himself +that he actually held it. + +It was, no doubt, Vanamee's talk that had stimulated him to this +point. The story of the Long Trail, with its desert and +mountain, its cliff-dwellers, its Aztec ruins, its colour, +movement, and romance, filled his mind with picture after +picture. The epic defiled before his vision like a pageant. +Once more, he shot a glance about him, as if in search of the +inspiration, and this time he all but found it. He rose to his +feet, looking out and off below him. + +As from a pinnacle, Presley, from where he now stood, dominated +the entire country. The sun had begun to set, everything in the +range of his vision was overlaid with a sheen of gold. + +First, close at hand, it was the Seed ranch, carpeting the little +hollow behind the Mission with a spread of greens, some dark, +some vivid, some pale almost to yellowness. Beyond that was the +Mission itself, its venerable campanile, in whose arches hung the +Spanish King's bells, already glowing ruddy in the sunset. +Farther on, he could make out Annixter's ranch house, marked by +the skeleton-like tower of the artesian well, and, a little +farther to the east, the huddled, tiled roofs of Guadalajara. +Far to the west and north, he saw Bonneville very plain, and the +dome of the courthouse, a purple silhouette against the glare of +the sky. Other points detached themselves, swimming in a golden +mist, projecting blue shadows far before them; the mammoth live- +oak by Hooven's, towering superb and magnificent; the line of +eucalyptus trees, behind which he knew was the Los Muertos ranch +house--his home; the watering-tank, the great iron-hooped tower +of wood that stood at the joining of the Lower Road and the +County Road; the long wind-break of poplar trees and the white +walls of Caraher's saloon on the County Road. + +But all this seemed to be only foreground, a mere array of +accessories--a mass of irrelevant details. Beyond Annixter's, +beyond Guadalajara, beyond the Lower Road, beyond Broderson +Creek, on to the south and west, infinite, illimitable, +stretching out there under the sheen of the sunset forever and +forever, flat, vast, unbroken, a huge scroll, unrolling between +the horizons, spread the great stretches of the ranch of Los +Muertos, bare of crops, shaved close in the recent harvest. Near +at hand were hills, but on that far southern horizon only the +curve of the great earth itself checked the view. Adjoining Los +Muertos, and widening to the west, opened the Broderson ranch. +The Osterman ranch to the northwest carried on the great sweep of +landscape; ranch after ranch. Then, as the imagination itself +expanded under the stimulus of that measureless range of vision, +even those great ranches resolved themselves into mere +foreground, mere accessories, irrelevant details. Beyond the +fine line of the horizons, over the curve of the globe, the +shoulder of the earth, were other ranches, equally vast, and +beyond these, others, and beyond these, still others, the +immensities multiplying, lengthening out vaster and vaster. The +whole gigantic sweep of the San Joaquin expanded, Titanic, before +the eye of the mind, flagellated with heat, quivering and +shimmering under the sun's red eye. At long intervals, a faint +breath of wind out of the south passed slowly over the levels of +the baked and empty earth, accentuating the silence, marking off +the stillness. It seemed to exhale from the land itself, a +prolonged sigh as of deep fatigue. It was the season after the +harvest, and the great earth, the mother, after its period of +reproduction, its pains of labour, delivered of the fruit of its +loins, slept the sleep of exhaustion, the infinite repose of the +colossus, benignant, eternal, strong, the nourisher of nations, +the feeder of an entire world. +Ha! there it was, his epic, his inspiration, his West, his +thundering progression of hexameters. A sudden uplift, a sense +of exhilaration, of physical exaltation appeared abruptly to +sweep Presley from his feet. As from a point high above the +world, he seemed to dominate a universe, a whole order of things. +He was dizzied, stunned, stupefied, his morbid supersensitive +mind reeling, drunk with the intoxication of mere immensity. +Stupendous ideas for which there were no names drove headlong +through his brain. Terrible, formless shapes, vague figures, +gigantic, monstrous, distorted, whirled at a gallop through his +imagination. + +He started homeward, still in his dream, descending from the +hill, emerging from the canyon, and took the short cut straight +across the Quien Sabe ranch, leaving Guadalajara far to his left. +He tramped steadily on through the wheat stubble, walking fast, +his head in a whirl. + +Never had he so nearly grasped his inspiration as at that moment +on the hilltop. Even now, though the sunset was fading, though +the wide reach of valley was shut from sight, it still kept him +company. Now the details came thronging back--the component +parts of his poem, the signs and symbols of the West. It was +there, close at hand, he had been in touch with it all day. It +was in the centenarian's vividly coloured reminiscences--De La +Cuesta, holding his grant from the Spanish crown, with his power +of life and death; the romance of his marriage; the white horse +with its pillion of red leather and silver bridle mountings; the +bull-fights in the Plaza; the gifts of gold dust, and horses and +tallow. It was in Vanamee's strange history, the tragedy of his +love; Angele Varian, with her marvellous loveliness; the Egyptian +fulness of her lips, the perplexing upward slant of her violet +eyes, bizarre, oriental; her white forehead made three cornered +by her plaits of gold hair; the mystery of the Other; her death +at the moment of her child's birth. It was in Vanamee's flight +into the wilderness; the story of the Long Trail, the sunsets +behind the altar-like mesas, the baking desolation of the +deserts; the strenuous, fierce life of forgotten towns, down +there, far off, lost below the horizons of the southwest; the +sonorous music of unfamiliar names--Quijotoa, Uintah, Sonora, +Laredo, Uncompahgre. It was in the Mission, with its cracked +bells, its decaying walls, its venerable sun dial, its fountain +and old garden, and in the Mission Fathers themselves, the +priests, the padres, planting the first wheat and oil and wine to +produce the elements of the Sacrament--a trinity of great +industries, taking their rise in a religious rite. + +Abruptly, as if in confirmation, Presley heard the sound of a +bell from the direction of the Mission itself. It was the de +Profundis, a note of the Old World; of the ancient regime, an +echo from the hillsides of mediaeval Europe, sounding there in +this new land, unfamiliar and strange at this end-of-the-century +time. + +By now, however, it was dark. Presley hurried forward. He came +to the line fence of the Quien Sabe ranch. Everything was very +still. The stars were all out. There was not a sound other than +the de Profundis, still sounding from very far away. At long +intervals the great earth sighed dreamily in its sleep. All +about, the feeling of absolute peace and quiet and security and +untroubled happiness and content seemed descending from the stars +like a benediction. The beauty of his poem, its idyl, came to +him like a caress; that alone had been lacking. It was that, +perhaps, which had left it hitherto incomplete. At last he was +to grasp his song in all its entity. +But suddenly there was an interruption. Presley had climbed the +fence at the limit of the Quien Sabe ranch. Beyond was Los +Muertos, but between the two ran the railroad. He had only time +to jump back upon the embankment when, with a quivering of all +the earth, a locomotive, single, unattached, shot by him with a +roar, filling the air with the reek of hot oil, vomiting smoke +and sparks; its enormous eye, cyclopean, red, throwing a glare +far in advance, shooting by in a sudden crash of confused +thunder; filling the night with the terrific clamour of its iron +hoofs. + +Abruptly Presley remembered. This must be the crack passenger +engine of which Dyke had told him, the one delayed by the +accident on the Bakersfield division and for whose passage the +track had been opened all the way to Fresno. + +Before Presley could recover from the shock of the irruption, +while the earth was still vibrating, the rails still humming, the +engine was far away, flinging the echo of its frantic gallop over +all the valley. For a brief instant it roared with a hollow +diapason on the Long Trestle over Broderson Creek, then plunged +into a cutting farther on, the quivering glare of its fires +losing itself in the night, its thunder abruptly diminishing to a +subdued and distant humming. All at once this ceased. The +engine was gone. + +But the moment the noise of the engine lapsed, Presley--about to +start forward again--was conscious of a confusion of lamentable +sounds that rose into the night from out the engine's wake. +Prolonged cries of agony, sobbing wails of infinite pain, heart- +rending, pitiful. + +The noises came from a little distance. He ran down the track, +crossing the culvert, over the irrigating ditch, and at the head +of the long reach of track--between the culvert and the Long +Trestle--paused abruptly, held immovable at the sight of the +ground and rails all about him. + +In some way, the herd of sheep--Vanamee's herd--had found a +breach in the wire fence by the right of way and had wandered out +upon the tracks. A band had been crossing just at the moment of +the engine's passage. The pathos of it was beyond expression. +It was a slaughter, a massacre of innocents. The iron monster +had charged full into the midst, merciless, inexorable. To the +right and left, all the width of the right of way, the little +bodies had been flung; backs were snapped against the fence +posts; brains knocked out. Caught in the barbs of the wire, +wedged in, the bodies hung suspended. Under foot it was +terrible. The black blood, winking in the starlight, seeped down +into the clinkers between the ties with a prolonged sucking +murmur. + +Presley turned away, horror-struck, sick at heart, overwhelmed +with a quick burst of irresistible compassion for this brute +agony he could not relieve. The sweetness was gone from the +evening, the sense of peace, of security, and placid contentment +was stricken from the landscape. The hideous ruin in the +engine's path drove all thought of his poem from his mind. The +inspiration vanished like a mist. The de Profundis had ceased to +ring. + +He hurried on across the Los Muertos ranch, almost running, even +putting his hands over his ears till he was out of hearing +distance of that all but human distress. Not until he was beyond +ear-shot did he pause, looking back, listening. The night had +shut down again. For a moment the silence was profound, +unbroken. + +Then, faint and prolonged, across the levels of the ranch, he +heard the engine whistling for Bonneville. Again and again, at +rapid intervals in its flying course, it whistled for road +crossings, for sharp curves, for trestles; ominous notes, hoarse, +bellowing, ringing with the accents of menace and defiance; and +abruptly Presley saw again, in his imagination, the galloping +monster, the terror of steel and steam, with its single eye, +cyclopean, red, shooting from horizon to horizon; but saw it now +as the symbol of a vast power, huge, terrible, flinging the echo +of its thunder over all the reaches of the valley, leaving blood +and destruction in its path; the leviathan, with tentacles of +steel clutching into the soil, the soulless Force, the iron- +hearted Power, the monster, the Colossus, the Octopus. + + +CHAPTER II + + +On the following morning, Harran Derrick was up and about by a +little after six o'clock, and a quarter of an hour later had +breakfast in the kitchen of the ranch house, preferring not to +wait until the Chinese cook laid the table in the regular dining- +room. He scented a hard day's work ahead of him, and was anxious +to be at it betimes. He was practically the manager of Los +Muertos, and, with the aid of his foreman and three division +superintendents, carried forward nearly the entire direction of +the ranch, occupying himself with the details of his father's +plans, executing his orders, signing contracts, paying bills, and +keeping the books. + +For the last three weeks little had been done. The crop--such as +it was--had been harvested and sold, and there had been a general +relaxation of activity for upwards of a month. Now, however, the +fall was coming on, the dry season was about at its end; any time +after the twentieth of the month the first rains might be +expected, softening the ground, putting it into condition for the +plough. Two days before this, Harran had notified his +superintendents on Three and Four to send in such grain as they +had reserved for seed. On Two the wheat had not even shown +itself above the ground, while on One, the Home ranch, which was +under his own immediate supervision, the seed had already been +graded and selected. + +It was Harran's intention to commence blue-stoning his seed that +day, a delicate and important process which prevented rust and +smut appearing in the crop when the wheat should come up. But, +furthermore, he wanted to find time to go to Guadalajara to meet +the Governor on the morning train. His day promised to be busy. + +But as Harran was finishing his last cup of coffee, Phelps, the +foreman on the Home ranch, who also looked after the storage +barns where the seed was kept, presented himself, cap in hand, on +the back porch by the kitchen door. + +"I thought I'd speak to you about the seed from Four, sir," he +said. "That hasn't been brought in yet." + +Harran nodded. + +"I'll see about it. You've got all the blue-stone you want, have +you, Phelps?" and without waiting for an answer he added, "Tell +the stableman I shall want the team about nine o'clock to go to +Guadalajara. Put them in the buggy. The bays, you understand." +When the other had gone, Harran drank off the rest of his coffee, +and, rising, passed through the dining-room and across a stone- +paved hallway with a glass roof into the office just beyond. + +The office was the nerve-centre of the entire ten thousand acres +of Los Muertos, but its appearance and furnishings were not in +the least suggestive of a farm. It was divided at about its +middle by a wire railing, painted green and gold, and behind this +railing were the high desks where the books were kept, the safe, +the letter-press and letter-files, and Harran's typewriting +machine. A great map of Los Muertos with every water-course, +depression, and elevation, together with indications of the +varying depths of the clays and loams in the soil, accurately +plotted, hung against the wall between the windows, while near at +hand by the safe was the telephone. + +But, no doubt, the most significant object in the office was the +ticker. This was an innovation in the San Joaquin, an idea of +shrewd, quick-witted young Annixter, which Harran and Magnus +Derrick had been quick to adopt, and after them Broderson and +Osterman, and many others of the wheat growers of the county. +The offices of the ranches were thus connected by wire with San +Francisco, and through that city with Minneapolis, Duluth, +Chicago, New York, and at last, and most important of all, with +Liverpool. Fluctuations in the price of the world's crop during +and after the harvest thrilled straight to the office of Los +Muertos, to that of the Quien Sabe, to Osterman's, and to +Broderson's. During a flurry in the Chicago wheat pits in the +August of that year, which had affected even the San Francisco +market, Harran and Magnus had sat up nearly half of one night +watching the strip of white tape jerking unsteadily from the +reel. At such moments they no longer felt their individuality. +The ranch became merely the part of an enormous whole, a unit in +the vast agglomeration of wheat land the whole world round, +feeling the effects of causes thousands of miles distant--a +drought on the prairies of Dakota, a rain on the plains of India, +a frost on the Russian steppes, a hot wind on the llanos of the +Argentine. + +Harran crossed over to the telephone and rang six bells, the call +for the division house on Four. It was the most distant, the +most isolated point on all the ranch, situated at its far +southeastern extremity, where few people ever went, close to the +line fence, a dot, a speck, lost in the immensity of the open +country. By the road it was eleven miles distant from the +office, and by the trail to Hooven's and the Lower Road all of +nine. + +"How about that seed?" demanded Harran when he had got Cutter on +the line. + +The other made excuses for an unavoidable delay, and was adding +that he was on the point of starting out, when Harran cut in +with: + +"You had better go the trail. It will save a little time and I +am in a hurry. Put your sacks on the horses' backs. And, +Cutter, if you see Hooven when you go by his place, tell him I +want him, and, by the way, take a look at the end of the +irrigating ditch when you get to it. See how they are getting +along there and if Billy wants anything. Tell him we are +expecting those new scoops down to-morrow or next day and to get +along with what he has until then. . . . How's everything on +Four? . . . All right, then. Give your seed to Phelps when you +get here if I am not about. I am going to Guadalajara to meet +the Governor. He's coming down to-day. And that makes me think; +we lost the case, you know. I had a letter from the Governor +yesterday. . . . Yes, hard luck. S. Behrman did us up. Well, +good-bye, and don't lose any time with that seed. I want to +blue-stone to-day." + +After telephoning Cutter, Harran put on his hat, went over to the +barns, and found Phelps. Phelps had already cleaned out the vat +which was to contain the solution of blue-stone, and was now at +work regrading the seed. Against the wall behind him ranged the +row of sacks. Harran cut the fastenings of these and examined +the contents carefully, taking handfuls of wheat from each and +allowing it to run through his fingers, or nipping the grains +between his nails, testing their hardness. + +The seed was all of the white varieties of wheat and of a very +high grade, the berries hard and heavy, rigid and swollen with +starch. + +"If it was all like that, sir, hey?" observed Phelps. + +Harran put his chin in the air. + +"Bread would be as good as cake, then," he answered, going from +sack to sack, inspecting the contents and consulting the tags +affixed to the mouths. + +"Hello," he remarked, "here's a red wheat. Where did this come +from?" + +"That's that red Clawson we sowed to the piece on Four, north the +Mission Creek, just to see how it would do here. We didn't get a +very good catch." + +"We can't do better than to stay by White Sonora and Propo," +remarked Harran. "We've got our best results with that, and +European millers like it to mix with the Eastern wheats that have +more gluten than ours. That is, if we have any wheat at all next +year." + +A feeling of discouragement for the moment bore down heavily upon +him. At intervals this came to him and for the moment it was +overpowering. The idea of "what's-the-use" was upon occasion a +veritable oppression. Everything seemed to combine to lower the +price of wheat. The extension of wheat areas always exceeded +increase of population; competition was growing fiercer every +year. The farmer's profits were the object of attack from a +score of different quarters. It was a flock of vultures +descending upon a common prey--the commission merchant, the +elevator combine, the mixing-house ring, the banks, the warehouse +men, the labouring man, and, above all, the railroad. Steadily +the Liverpool buyers cut and cut and cut. Everything, every +element of the world's markets, tended to force down the price to +the lowest possible figure at which it could be profitably +farmed. Now it was down to eighty-seven. It was at that figure +the crop had sold that year; and to think that the Governor had +seen wheat at two dollars and five cents in the year of the +Turko-Russian War! + +He turned back to the house after giving Phelps final directions, +gloomy, disheartened, his hands deep in his pockets, wondering +what was to be the outcome. So narrow had the margin of profit +shrunk that a dry season meant bankruptcy to the smaller farmers +throughout all the valley. He knew very well how widespread had +been the distress the last two years. With their own tenants on +Los Muertos, affairs had reached the stage of desperation. +Derrick had practically been obliged to "carry" Hooven and some +of the others. The Governor himself had made almost nothing +during the last season; a third year like the last, with the +price steadily sagging, meant nothing else but ruin. + +But here he checked himself. Two consecutive dry seasons in +California were almost unprecedented; a third would be beyond +belief, and the complete rest for nearly all the land was a +compensation. They had made no money, that was true; but they +had lost none. Thank God, the homestead was free of mortgage; +one good season would more than make up the difference. + +He was in a better mood by the time he reached the driveway that +led up to the ranch house, and as he raised his eyes toward the +house itself, he could not but feel that the sight of his home +was cheering. The ranch house was set in a great grove of +eucalyptus, oak, and cypress, enormous trees growing from out a +lawn that was as green, as fresh, and as well-groomed as any in a +garden in the city. This lawn flanked all one side of the house, +and it was on this side that the family elected to spend most of +its time. The other side, looking out upon the Home ranch toward +Bonneville and the railroad, was but little used. A deep porch +ran the whole length of the house here, and in the lower branches +of a live-oak near the steps Harran had built a little summer +house for his mother. To the left of the ranch house itself, +toward the County Road, was the bunk-house and kitchen for some +of the hands. From the steps of the porch the view to the +southward expanded to infinity. There was not so much as a twig +to obstruct the view. In one leap the eye reached the fine, +delicate line where earth and sky met, miles away. The flat +monotony of the land, clean of fencing, was broken by one spot +only, the roof of the Division Superintendent's house on Three--a +mere speck, just darker than the ground. Cutter's house on Four +was not even in sight. That was below the horizon. + +As Harran came up he saw his mother at breakfast. The table had +been set on the porch and Mrs. Derrick, stirring her coffee with +one hand, held open with the other the pages of Walter Pater's +"Marius." At her feet, Princess Nathalie, the white Angora cat, +sleek, over-fed, self-centred, sat on her haunches, industriously +licking at the white fur of her breast, while near at hand, by +the railing of the porch, Presley pottered with a new bicycle +lamp, filling it with oil, adjusting the wicks. + +Harran kissed his mother and sat down in a wicker chair on the +porch, removing his hat, running his fingers through his yellow +hair. + +Magnus Derrick's wife looked hardly old enough to be the mother +of two such big fellows as Harran and Lyman Derrick. She was not +far into the fifties, and her brown hair still retained much of +its brightness. She could yet be called pretty. Her eyes were +large and easily assumed a look of inquiry and innocence, such as +one might expect to see in a young girl. By disposition she was +retiring; she easily obliterated herself. She was not made for +the harshness of the world, and yet she had known these +harshnesses in her younger days. Magnus had married her when she +was twenty-one years old, at a time when she was a graduate of +some years' standing from the State Normal School and was +teaching literature, music, and penmanship in a seminary in the +town of Marysville. She overworked herself here continually, +loathing the strain of teaching, yet clinging to it with a +tenacity born of the knowledge that it was her only means of +support. Both her parents were dead; she was dependent upon +herself. Her one ambition was to see Italy and the Bay of +Naples. The "Marble Faun," Raphael's "Madonnas" and "Il +Trovatore" were her beau ideals of literature and art. She +dreamed of Italy, Rome, Naples, and the world's great "art- +centres." There was no doubt that her affair with Magnus had +been a love-match, but Annie Payne would have loved any man who +would have taken her out of the droning, heart-breaking routine +of the class and music room. She had followed his fortunes +unquestioningly. First at Sacramento, during the turmoil of his +political career, later on at Placerville in El Dorado County, +after Derrick had interested himself in the Corpus Christi group +of mines, and finally at Los Muertos, where, after selling out +his fourth interest in Corpus Christi, he had turned rancher and +had "come in" on the new tracts of wheat land just thrown open by +the railroad. She had lived here now for nearly ten years. But +never for one moment since the time her glance first lost itself +in the unbroken immensity of the ranches had she known a moment's +content. Continually there came into her pretty, wide-open eyes-- +the eyes of a young doe--a look of uneasiness, of distrust, and +aversion. Los Muertos frightened her. She remembered the days +of her young girlhood passed on a farm in eastern Ohio--five +hundred acres, neatly partitioned into the water lot, the cow +pasture, the corn lot, the barley field, and wheat farm; cosey, +comfortable, home-like; where the farmers loved their land, +caressing it, coaxing it, nourishing it as though it were a thing +almost conscious; where the seed was sown by hand, and a single +two-horse plough was sufficient for the entire farm; where the +scythe sufficed to cut the harvest and the grain was thrashed +with flails. + +But this new order of things--a ranch bounded only by the +horizons, where, as far as one could see, to the north, to the +east, to the south and to the west, was all one holding, a +principality ruled with iron and steam, bullied into a yield of +three hundred and fifty thousand bushels, where even when the +land was resting, unploughed, unharrowed, and unsown, the wheat +came up--troubled her, and even at times filled her with an +undefinable terror. To her mind there was something inordinate +about it all; something almost unnatural. The direct brutality +of ten thousand acres of wheat, nothing but wheat as far as the +eye could see, stunned her a little. The one-time writing- +teacher of a young ladies' seminary, with her pretty deer-like +eyes and delicate fingers, shrank from it. She did not want to +look at so much wheat. There was something vaguely indecent in +the sight, this food of the people, this elemental force, this +basic energy, weltering here under the sun in all the unconscious +nakedness of a sprawling, primordial Titan. + +The monotony of the ranch ate into her heart hour by hour, year +by year. And with it all, when was she to see Rome, Italy, and +the Bay of Naples? It was a different prospect truly. Magnus +had given her his promise that once the ranch was well +established, they two should travel. But continually he had been +obliged to put her off, now for one reason, now for another; the +machine would not as yet run of itself, he must still feel his +hand upon the lever; next year, perhaps, when wheat should go to +ninety, or the rains were good. She did not insist. She +obliterated herself, only allowing, from time to time, her +pretty, questioning eyes to meet his. In the meantime she +retired within herself. She surrounded herself with books. Her +taste was of the delicacy of point lace. She knew her Austin +Dobson by heart. She read poems, essays, the ideas of the +seminary at Marysville persisting in her mind. "Marius the +Epicurean," "The Essays of Elia," "Sesame and Lilies," "The +Stones of Venice," and the little toy magazines, full of the +flaccid banalities of the "Minor Poets," were continually in her +hands. + +When Presley had appeared on Los Muertos, she had welcomed his +arrival with delight. Here at last was a congenial spirit. She +looked forward to long conversations with the young man on +literature, art, and ethics. But Presley had disappointed her. +That he--outside of his few chosen deities--should care little +for literature, shocked her beyond words. His indifference to +"style," to elegant English, was a positive affront. His savage +abuse and open ridicule of the neatly phrased rondeaux and +sestinas and chansonettes of the little magazines was to her mind +a wanton and uncalled-for cruelty. She found his Homer, with its +slaughters and hecatombs and barbaric feastings and headstrong +passions, violent and coarse. She could not see with him any +romance, any poetry in the life around her; she looked to Italy +for that. His "Song of the West," which only once, incoherent +and fierce, he had tried to explain to her, its swift, tumultous +life, its truth, its nobility and savagery, its heroism and +obscenity had revolted her. + +"But, Presley," she had murmured, "that is not literature." + +"No," he had cried between his teeth, "no, thank God, it is not." + +A little later, one of the stablemen brought the buggy with the +team of bays up to the steps of the porch, and Harran, putting on +a different coat and a black hat, took himself off to +Guadalajara. +The morning was fine; there was no cloud in the sky, but as +Harran's buggy drew away from the grove of trees about the ranch +house, emerging into the open country on either side of the Lower +Road, he caught himself looking sharply at the sky and the faint +line of hills beyond the Quien Sabe ranch. There was a certain +indefinite cast to the landscape that to Harran's eye was not to +be mistaken. Rain, the first of the season, was not far off. + +"That's good," he muttered, touching the bays with the whip, "we +can't get our ploughs to hand any too soon." + +These ploughs Magnus Derrick had ordered from an Eastern +manufacturer some months before, since he was dissatisfied with +the results obtained from the ones he had used hitherto, which +were of local make. However, there had been exasperating and +unexpected delays in their shipment. Magnus and Harran both had +counted upon having the ploughs in their implement barns that +very week, but a tracer sent after them had only resulted in +locating them, still en route, somewhere between The Needles and +Bakersfield. Now there was likelihood of rain within the week. +Ploughing could be undertaken immediately afterward, so soon as +the ground was softened, but there was a fair chance that the +ranch would lie idle for want of proper machinery. + +It was ten minutes before train time when Harran reached the +depot at Guadalajara. The San Francisco papers of the preceding +day had arrived on an earlier train. He bought a couple from the +station agent and looked them over till a distant and prolonged +whistle announced the approach of the down train. + +In one of the four passengers that alighted from the train, he +recognised his father. He half rose in his seat, whistling +shrilly between his teeth, waving his hand, and Magnus Derrick, +catching sight of him, came forward quickly. + +Magnus--the Governor--was all of six feet tall, and though now +well toward his sixtieth year, was as erect as an officer of +cavalry. He was broad in proportion, a fine commanding figure, +imposing an immediate respect, impressing one with a sense of +gravity, of dignity and a certain pride of race. He was smooth- +shaven, thin-lipped, with a broad chin, and a prominent hawk-like +nose--the characteristic of the family--thin, with a high bridge, +such as one sees in the later portraits of the Duke of +Wellington. His hair was thick and iron-grey, and had a tendency +to curl in a forward direction just in front of his ears. He +wore a top-hat of grey, with a wide brim, and a frock coat, and +carried a cane with a yellowed ivory head. + +As a young man it had been his ambition to represent his native +State--North Carolina--in the United States Senate. Calhoun was +his "great man," but in two successive campaigns he had been +defeated. His career checked in this direction, he had come to +California in the fifties. He had known and had been the +intimate friend of such men as Terry, Broderick, General Baker, +Lick, Alvarado, Emerich, Larkin, and, above all, of the +unfortunate and misunderstood Ralston. Once he had been put +forward as the Democratic candidate for governor, but failed of +election. After this Magnus had definitely abandoned politics +and had invested all his money in the Corpus Christi mines. Then +he had sold out his interest at a small profit--just in time to +miss his chance of becoming a multi-millionaire in the Comstock +boom--and was looking for reinvestments in other lines when the +news that "wheat had been discovered in California" was passed +from mouth to mouth. Practically it amounted to a discovery. +Dr. Glenn's first harvest of wheat in Colusa County, quietly +undertaken but suddenly realised with dramatic abruptness, gave a +new matter for reflection to the thinking men of the New West. +California suddenly leaped unheralded into the world's market as +a competitor in wheat production. In a few years her output of +wheat exceeded the value of her out-put of gold, and when, later +on, the Pacific and Southwestern Railroad threw open to settlers +the rich lands of Tulare County--conceded to the corporation by +the government as a bonus for the construction of the road-- +Magnus had been quick to seize the opportunity and had taken up +the ten thousand acres of Los Muertos. Wherever he had gone, +Magnus had taken his family with him. Lyman had been born at +Sacramento during the turmoil and excitement of Derrick's +campaign for governor, and Harran at Shingle Springs, in El +Dorado County, six years later. + +But Magnus was in every sense the "prominent man." In whatever +circle he moved he was the chief figure. Instinctively other men +looked to him as the leader. He himself was proud of this +distinction; he assumed the grand manner very easily and carried +it well. As a public speaker he was one of the last of the +followers of the old school of orators. He even carried the +diction and manner of the rostrum into private life. It was said +of him that his most colloquial conversation could be taken down +in shorthand and read off as an admirable specimen of pure, well- +chosen English. He loved to do things upon a grand scale, to +preside, to dominate. In his good humour there was something +Jovian. When angry, everybody around him trembled. But he had +not the genius for detail, was not patient. The certain +grandiose lavishness of his disposition occupied itself more with +results than with means. He was always ready to take chances, to +hazard everything on the hopes of colossal returns. In the +mining days at Placerville there was no more redoubtable poker +player in the county. He had been as lucky in his mines as in +his gambling, sinking shafts and tunnelling in violation of +expert theory and finding "pay" in every case. Without knowing +it, he allowed himself to work his ranch much as if he was still +working his mine. The old-time spirit of '49, hap-hazard, +unscientific, persisted in his mind. Everything was a gamble-- +who took the greatest chances was most apt to be the greatest +winner. The idea of manuring Los Muertos, of husbanding his +great resources, he would have scouted as niggardly, Hebraic, +ungenerous. + +Magnus climbed into the buggy, helping himself with Harran's +outstretched hand which he still held. The two were immensely +fond of each other, proud of each other. They were constantly +together and Magnus kept no secrets from his favourite son. + +"Well, boy." + +"Well, Governor." + +"I am very pleased you came yourself, Harran. I feared that you +might be too busy and send Phelps. It was thoughtful." + +Harran was ahout to reply, but at that moment Magnus caught sight +of the three flat cars loaded with bright-painted farming +machines which still remained on the siding above the station. +He laid his hands on the reins and Harran checked the team. + +"Harran," observed Magnus, fixing the machinery with a judicial +frown, "Harran, those look singularly like our ploughs. Drive +over, boy." + +The train had by this time gone on its way and Harran brought the +team up to the siding. + +"Ah, I was right," said the Governor. "'Magnus Derrick, Los +Muertos, Bonneville, from Ditson & Co., Rochester.' These are +ours, boy." + +Harran breathed a sigh of relief. + + +"At last," he answered, "and just in time, too. We'll have rain +before the week is out. I think, now that I am here, I will +telephone Phelps to send the wagon right down for these. I +started blue-stoning to-day." + +Magnus nodded a grave approval. + +"That was shrewd, boy. As to the rain, I think you are well +informed; we will have an early season. The ploughs have arrived +at a happy moment." + +"It means money to us, Governor," remarked Harran. + +But as he turned the horses to allow his father to get into the +buggy again, the two were surprised to hear a thick, throaty +voice wishing them good-morning, and turning about were aware of +S. Behrman, who had come up while they were examining the +ploughs. Harran's eyes flashed on the instant and through his +nostrils he drew a sharp, quick breath, while a certain rigour of +carriage stiffened the set of Magnus Derrick's shoulders and +back. Magnus had not yet got into the buggy, but stood with the +team between him and S. Behrman, eyeing him calmly across the +horses' backs. S. Behrman came around to the other side of the +buggy and faced Magnus. + +He was a large, fat man, with a great stomach; his cheek and the +upper part of his thick neck ran together to form a great +tremulous jowl, shaven and blue-grey in colour; a roll of fat, +sprinkled with sparse hair, moist with perspiration, protruded +over the back of his collar. He wore a heavy black moustache. +On his head was a round-topped hat of stiff brown straw, highly +varnished. A light-brown linen vest, stamped with innumerable +interlocked horseshoes, covered his protuberant stomach, upon +which a heavy watch chain of hollow links rose and fell with his +difficult breathing, clinking against the vest buttons of +imitation mother-of-pearl. + +S. Behrman was the banker of Bonneville. But besides this he was +many other things. He was a real estate agent. He bought grain; +he dealt in mortgages. He was one of the local political bosses, +but more important than all this, he was the representative of +the Pacific and Southwestern Railroad in that section of Tulare +County. The railroad did little business in that part of the +country that S. Behrman did not supervise, from the consignment +of a shipment of wheat to the management of a damage suit, or +even to the repair and maintenance of the right of way. During +the time when the ranchers of the county were fighting the grain- +rate case, S. Behrman had been much in evidence in and about the +San Francisco court rooms and the lobby of the legislature in +Sacramento. He had returned to Bonneville only recently, a +decision adverse to the ranchers being foreseen. The position he +occupied on the salary list of the Pacific and Southwestern could +not readily be defined, for he was neither freight agent, +passenger agent, attorney, real-estate broker, nor political +servant, though his influence in all these offices was undoubted +and enormous. But for all that, the ranchers about Bonneville +knew whom to look to as a source of trouble. There was no +denying the fact that for Osterman, Broderson, Annixter and +Derrick, S. Behrman was the railroad. + +"Mr. Derrick, good-morning," he cried as he came up. "Good- +morning, Harran. Glad to see you back, Mr. Derrick." He held +out a thick hand. + +Magnus, head and shoulders above the other, tall, thin, erect, +looked down upon S. Behrman, inclining his head, failing to see +his extended hand. + +"Good-morning, sir," he observed, and waited for S. Behrman's +further speech. + +"Well, Mr. Derrick," continued S. Behrman, wiping the back of his +neck with his handkerchief, "I saw in the city papers yesterday +that our case had gone against you." + +"I guess it wasn't any great news to YOU," commented Harran, his +face scarlet. "I guess you knew which way Ulsteen was going to +jump after your very first interview with him. You don't like to +be surprised in this sort of thing, S. Behrman." + +"Now, you know better than that, Harran," remonstrated S. Behrman +blandly. "I know what you mean to imply, but I ain't going to +let it make me get mad. I wanted to say to your Governor--I +wanted to say to you, Mr. Derrick--as one man to another--letting +alone for the minute that we were on opposite sides of the case-- +that I'm sorry you didn't win. Your side made a good fight, but +it was in a mistaken cause. That's the whole trouble. Why, you +could have figured out before you ever went into the case that +such rates are confiscation of property. You must allow us--must +allow the railroad--a fair interest on the investment. You don't +want us to go into the receiver's hands, do you now, Mr. +Derrick?" + +"The Board of Railroad Commissioners was bought," remarked Magnus +sharply, a keen, brisk flash glinting in his eye. + +"It was part of the game," put in Harran, "for the Railroad +Commission to cut rates to a ridiculous figure, far below a +REASONABLE figure, just so that it WOULD be confiscation. +Whether Ulsteen is a tool of yours or not, he had to put the +rates back to what they were originally." + +"If you enforced those rates, Mr. Harran," returned S. Behrman +calmly, "we wouldn't be able to earn sufficient money to meet +operating expenses or fixed charges, to say nothing of a surplus +left over to pay dividends----" + +"Tell me when the P. and S. W. ever paid dividends." + +"The lowest rates," continued S. Behrman, "that the legislature +can establish must be such as will secure us a fair interest on +our investment." + +"Well, what's your standard? Come, let's hear it. Who is to say +what's a fair rate? The railroad has its own notions of fairness +sometimes." + +"The laws of the State," returned S. Behrman, "fix the rate of +interest at seven per cent. That's a good enough standard for +us. There is no reason, Mr. Harran, why a dollar invested in a +railroad should not earn as much as a dollar represented by a +promissory note--seven per cent. By applying your schedule of +rates we would not earn a cent; we would be bankrupt." + +"Interest on your investment!" cried Harran, furious. "It's fine +to talk about fair interest. I know and you know that the total +earnings of the P. and S. W.--their main, branch and leased lines +for last year--was between nineteen and twenty millions of +dollars. Do you mean to say that twenty million dollars is seven +per cent. of the original cost of the road?" + +S. Behrman spread out his hands, smiling. + +"That was the gross, not the net figure--and how can you tell +what was the original cost of the road?" +"Ah, that's just it," shouted Harran, emphasising each word with +a blow of his fist upon his knee, his eyes sparkling, "you take +cursed good care that we don't know anything about the original +cost of the road. But we know you are bonded for treble your +value; and we know this: that the road COULD have been built for +fifty-four thousand dollars per mile and that you SAY it cost you +eighty-seven thousand. It makes a difference, S. Behrman, on +which of these two figures you are basing your seven per cent." + +"That all may show obstinacy, Harran," observed S. Behrman +vaguely, "but it don't show common sense." + +"We are threshing out old straw, I believe, gentlemen," remarked +Magnus. "The question was thoroughly sifted in the courts." + +"Quite right," assented S. Behrman. "The best way is that the +railroad and the farmer understand each other and get along +peaceably. We are both dependent on each other. Your ploughs, I +believe, Mr. Derrick." S. Behrman nodded toward the flat cars. + +"They are consigned to me," admitted Magnus. + +"It looks a trifle like rain," observed S. Behrman, easing his +neck and jowl in his limp collar. "I suppose you will want to +begin ploughing next week." + +"Possibly," said Magnus. + +"I'll see that your ploughs are hurried through for you then, Mr. +Derrick. We will route them by fast freight for you and it won't +cost you anything extra." + +"What do you mean?" demanded Harran. "The ploughs are here. We +have nothing more to do with the railroad. I am going to have my +wagons down here this afternoon." + +"I am sorry," answered S. Behrman, "but the cars are going north, +not, as you thought, coming FROM the north. They have not been +to San Francisco yet." + +Magnus made a slight movement of the head as one who remembers a +fact hitherto forgotten. But Harran was as yet unenlightened. + +"To San Francisco!" he answered, "we want them here--what are you +talking about?" + +"Well, you know, of course, the regulations," answered +S. Behrman. "Freight of this kind coming from the Eastern points +into the State must go first to one of our common points and be +reshipped from there." + +Harran did remember now, but never before had the matter so +struck home. He leaned back in his seat in dumb amazement for +the instant. Even Magnus had turned a little pale. Then, +abruptly, Harran broke out violent and raging. + +"What next? My God, why don't you break into our houses at +night? Why don't you steal the watch out of my pocket, steal the +horses out of the harness, hold us up with a shot-gun; yes, +'stand and deliver; your money or your life.' Here we bring our +ploughs from the East over your lines, but you're not content +with your long-haul rate between Eastern points and Bonneville. +You want to get us under your ruinous short-haul rate between +Bonneville and San Francisco, AND RETURN. Think of it! Here's a +load of stuff for Bonneville that can't stop at Bonneville, where +it is consigned, but has got to go up to San Francisco first BY +WAY OF Bonneville, at forty cents per ton and then be reshipped +from San Francisco back to Bonneville again at FIFTY-ONE cents +per ton, the short-haul rate. And we have to pay it all or go +without. Here are the ploughs right here, in sight of the land +they have got to be used on, the season just ready for them, and +we can't touch them. Oh," he exclaimed in deep disgust, "isn't +it a pretty mess! Isn't it a farce! the whole dirty business!" + +S. Behrman listened to him unmoved, his little eyes blinking +under his fat forehead, the gold chain of hollow links clicking +against the pearl buttons of his waistcoat as he breathed. + +"It don't do any good to let loose like that, Harran," he said at +length. "I am willing to do what I can for you. I'll hurry the +ploughs through, but I can't change the freight regulation of the +road." + +"What's your blackmail for this?" vociferated Harran. "How much +do you want to let us go? How much have we got to pay you to be +ALLOWED to use our own ploughs--what's your figure? Come, spit +it out." + +"I see you are trying to make me angry, Harran," returned S. +Behrman, "but you won't succeed. Better give up trying, my boy. +As I said, the best way is to have the railroad and the farmer +get along amicably. It is the only way we can do business. +Well, s'long, Governor, I must trot along. S'long, Harran." He +took himself off. + +But before leaving Guadalajara Magnus dropped into the town's +small grocery store to purchase a box of cigars of a certain +Mexican brand, unprocurable elsewhere. Harran remained in the +buggy. + +While he waited, Dyke appeared at the end of the street, and, +seeing Derrick's younger son, came over to shake hands with him. +He explained his affair with the P. and S. W., and asked the +young man what he thought of the expected rise in the price of +hops. + +"Hops ought to be a good thing," Harran told him. "The crop in +Germany and in New York has been a dead failure for the last +three years, and so many people have gone out of the business +that there's likely to be a shortage and a stiff advance in the +price. They ought to go to a dollar next year. Sure, hops ought +to be a good thing. How's the old lady and Sidney, Dyke?" + +"Why, fairly well, thank you, Harran. They're up to Sacramento +just now to see my brother. I was thinking of going in with my +brother into this hop business. But I had a letter from him this +morning. He may not be able to meet me on this proposition. +He's got other business on hand. If he pulls out--and he +probably will--I'll have to go it alone, but I'll have to borrow. +I had thought with his money and mine we would have enough to +pull off the affair without mortgaging anything. As it is, I +guess I'll have to see S. Behrman." + +"I'll be cursed if I would!" exclaimed Harran. + +"Well, S. Behrman is a screw," admitted the engineer, "and he is +'railroad' to his boots; but business is business, and he would +have to stand by a contract in black and white, and this chance +in hops is too good to let slide. I guess we'll try it on, +Harran. I can get a good foreman that knows all about hops just +now, and if the deal pays--well, I want to send Sid to a seminary +up in San Francisco." + +"Well, mortgage the crops, but don't mortgage the homestead, +Dyke," said Harran. "And, by the way, have you looked up the +freight rates on hops?" + +"No, I haven't yet," answered Dyke, "and I had better be sure of +that, hadn't I? I hear that the rate is reasonable, though." + +"You be sure to have a clear understanding with the railroad +first about the rate," Harran warned him. + +When Magnus came out of the grocery store and once more seated +himself in the buggy, he said to Harran, "Boy, drive over here to +Annixter's before we start home. I want to ask him to dine with +us to-night. Osterman and Broderson are to drop in, I believe, +and I should like to have Annixter as well." + +Magnus was lavishly hospitable. Los Muertos's doors invariably +stood open to all the Derricks' neighbours, and once in so often +Magnus had a few of his intimates to dinner. + +As Harran and his father drove along the road toward Annixter's +ranch house, Magnus asked about what had happened during his +absence. + +He inquired after his wife and the ranch, commenting upon the +work on the irrigating ditch. Harran gave him the news of the +past week, Dyke's discharge, his resolve to raise a crop of hops; +Vanamee's return, the killing of the sheep, and Hooven's petition +to remain upon the ranch as Magnus's tenant. It needed only +Harran's recommendation that the German should remain to have +Magnus consent upon the instant. +"You know more about it than I, boy," he said, "and whatever you +think is wise shall be done." + +Harran touched the bays with the whip, urging them to their +briskest pace. They were not yet at Annixter's and he was +anxious to get back to the ranch house to supervise the blue- +stoning of his seed. + +"By the way, Governor," he demanded suddenly, "how is Lyman +getting on?" + +Lyman, Magnus's eldest son, had never taken kindly toward ranch +life. He resembled his mother more than he did Magnus, and had +inherited from her a distaste for agriculture and a tendency +toward a profession. At a time when Harran was learning the +rudiments of farming, Lyman was entering the State University, +and, graduating thence, had spent three years in the study of +law. But later on, traits that were particularly his father's +developed. Politics interested him. He told himself he was a +born politician, was diplomatic, approachable, had a talent for +intrigue, a gift of making friends easily and, most indispensable +of all, a veritable genius for putting influential men under +obligations to himself. Already he had succeeded in gaining for +himself two important offices in the municipal administration of +San Francisco--where he had his home--sheriff's attorney, and, +later on, assistant district attorney. But with these small +achievements he was by no means satisfied. The largeness of his +father's character, modified in Lyman by a counter-influence of +selfishness, had produced in him an inordinate ambition. Where +his father during his political career had considered himself +only as an exponent of principles he strove to apply, Lyman saw +but the office, his own personal aggrandisement. He belonged to +the new school, wherein objects were attained not by orations +before senates and assemblies, but by sessions of committees, +caucuses, compromises and expedients. His goal was to be in fact +what Magnus was only in name--governor. Lyman, with shut teeth, +had resolved that some day he would sit in the gubernatorial +chair in Sacramento. + +"Lyman is doing well," answered Magnus. "I could wish he was +more pronounced in his convictions, less willing to compromise, +but I believe him to be earnest and to have a talent for +government and civics. His ambition does him credit, and if he +occupied himself a little more with means and a little less with +ends, he would, I am sure, be the ideal servant of the people. +But I am not afraid. The time will come when the State will be +proud of him." + +As Harran turned the team into the driveway that led up to +Annixter's house, Magnus remarked: + +"Harran, isn't that young Annixter himself on the porch?" + +Harran nodded and remarked: + +"By the way, Governor, I wouldn't seem too cordial in your +invitation to Annixter. He will be glad to come, I know, but if +you seem to want him too much, it is just like his confounded +obstinacy to make objections." + +"There is something in that," observed Magnus, as Harran drew up +at the porch of the house. "He is a queer, cross-grained fellow, +but in many ways sterling." + +Annixter was lying in the hammock on the porch, precisely as +Presley had found him the day before, reading "David Copperfield" +and stuffing himself with dried prunes. When he recognised +Magnus, however, he got up, though careful to give evidence of +the most poignant discomfort. He explained his difficulty at +great length, protesting that his stomach was no better than a +spongebag. Would Magnus and Harran get down and have a drink? +There was whiskey somewhere about. + +Magnus, however, declined. He stated his errand, asking Annixter +to come over to Los Muertos that evening for seven o'clock +dinner. Osterman and Broderson would be there. + +At once Annixter, even to Harran's surprise, put his chin in the +air, making excuses, fearing to compromise himself if he accepted +too readily. No, he did not think he could get around--was sure +of it, in fact. There were certain businesses he had on hand +that evening. He had practically made an appointment with a man +at Bonneville; then, too, he was thinking of going up to San +Francisco to-morrow and needed his sleep; would go to bed early; +and besides all that, he was a very sick man; his stomach was out +of whack; if he moved about it brought the gripes back. No, they +must get along without him. + +Magnus, knowing with whom he had to deal, did not urge the point, +being convinced that Annixter would argue over the affair the +rest of the morning. He re-settled himself in the buggy and +Harran gathered up the reins. + +"Well," he observed, "you know your business best. Come if you +can. We dine at seven." + +"I hear you are going to farm the whole of Los Muertos this +season," remarked Annixter, with a certain note of challenge in +his voice. + +"We are thinking of it," replied Magnus. + +Annixter grunted scornfully. + +"Did you get the message I sent you by Presley?" he began. + +Tactless, blunt, and direct, Annixter was quite capable of +calling even Magnus a fool to his face. But before he could +proceed, S. Behrman in his single buggy turned into the gate, and +driving leisurely up to the porch halted on the other side of +Magnus's team. + +"Good-morning, gentlemen," he remarked, nodding to the two +Derricks as though he had not seen them earlier in the day. "Mr. +Annixter, how do you do?" + +"What in hell do YOU want?" demanded Annixter with a stare. + +S. Behrman hiccoughed slightly and passed a fat hand over his +waistcoat. + +"Why, not very much, Mr. Annixter," he replied, ignoring the +belligerency in the young ranchman's voice, "but I will have to +lodge a protest against you, Mr. Annixter, in the matter of +keeping your line fence in repair. The sheep were all over the +track last night, this side the Long Trestle, and I am afraid +they have seriously disturbed our ballast along there. We--the +railroad--can't fence along our right of way. The farmers have +the prescriptive right of that, so we have to look to you to keep +your fence in repair. I am sorry, but I shall have to protest----" +Annixter returned to the hammock and stretched himself out in it +to his full length, remarking tranquilly: + +"Go to the devil!" + +"It is as much to your interest as to ours that the safety of the +public----" + +"You heard what I said. Go to the devil!" + +"That all may show obstinacy, Mr. Annixter, but----" + +Suddenly Annixter jumped up again and came to the edge of the +porch; his face flamed scarlet to the roots of his stiff yellow +hair. He thrust out his jaw aggressively, clenching his teeth. + +"You," he vociferated, "I'll tell you what you are. You're a--a-- +a PIP!" + +To his mind it was the last insult, the most outrageous calumny. +He had no worse epithet at his command. + +"----may show obstinacy," pursued S. Behrman, bent upon finishing +the phrase, "but it don't show common sense." + +"I'll mend my fence, and then, again, maybe I won't mend my +fence," shouted Annixter. "I know what you mean--that wild +engine last night. Well, you've no right to run at that speed in +the town limits." + +"How the town limits? The sheep were this side the Long +Trestle." + +"Well, that's in the town limits of Guadalajara." +"Why, Mr. Annixter, the Long Trestle is a good two miles out of +Guadalajara." + +Annixter squared himself, leaping to the chance of an argument. + +"Two miles! It's not a mile and a quarter. No, it's not a mile. +I'll leave it to Magnus here." + +"Oh, I know nothing about it," declared Magnus, refusing to be +involved. + +"Yes, you do. Yes, you do, too. Any fool knows how far it is +from Guadalajara to the Long Trestle. It's about five-eighths of +a mile." + +"From the depot of the town," remarked S. Behrman placidly, "to +the head of the Long Trestle is about two miles." + +"That's a lie and you know it's a lie," shouted the other, +furious at S. Behrman's calmness, "and I can prove it's a lie. +I've walked that distance on the Upper Road, and I know just how +fast I walk, and if I can walk four miles in one hour" + +Magnus and Harran drove on, leaving Annixter trying to draw S. +Behrman into a wrangle. + +When at length S. Behrman as well took himself away, Annixter +returned to his hammock, finished the rest of his prunes and read +another chapter of "Copperfield." Then he put the book, open, +over his face and went to sleep. + +An hour later, toward noon, his own terrific snoring woke him up +suddenly, and he sat up, rubbing his face and blinking at the +sunlight. There was a bad taste in his mouth from sleeping with +it wide open, and going into the dining-room of the house, he +mixed himself a drink of whiskey and soda and swallowed it in +three great gulps. He told himself that he felt not only better +but hungry, and pressed an electric button in the wall near the +sideboard three times to let the kitchen--situated in a separate +building near the ranch house--know that he was ready for his +dinner. As he did so, an idea occurred to him. He wondered if +Hilma Tree would bring up his dinner and wait on the table while +he ate it. + +In connection with his ranch, Annixter ran a dairy farm on a very +small scale, making just enough butter and cheese for the +consumption of the ranch's PERSONNEL. Old man Tree, his wife, and +his daughter Hilma looked after the dairy. But there was not +always work enough to keep the three of them occupied and Hilma +at times made herself useful in other ways. As often as not she +lent a hand in the kitchen, and two or three times a week she +took her mother's place in looking after Annixter's house, making +the beds, putting his room to rights, bringing his meals up from +the kitchen. For the last summer she had been away visiting with +relatives in one of the towns on the coast. But the week +previous to this she had returned and Annixter had come upon her +suddenly one day in the dairy, making cheese, the sleeves of her +crisp blue shirt waist rolled back to her very shoulders. +Annixter had carried away with him a clear-cut recollection of +these smooth white arms of hers, bare to the shoulder, very round +and cool and fresh. He would not have believed that a girl so +young should have had arms so big and perfect. To his surprise +he found himself thinking of her after he had gone to bed that +night, and in the morning when he woke he was bothered to know +whether he had dreamed about Hilma's fine white arms over night. +Then abruptly he had lost patience with himself for being so +occupied with the subject, raging and furious with all the breed +of feemales--a fine way for a man to waste his time. He had had +his experience with the timid little creature in the glove- +cleaning establishment in Sacramento. That was enough. +Feemales! Rot! None of them in HIS, thank you. HE had seen +Hilma Tree give him a look in the dairy. Aha, he saw through +her! She was trying to get a hold on him, was she? He would +show her. Wait till he saw her again. He would send her about +her business in a hurry. He resolved upon a terrible demeanour +in the presence of the dairy girl--a great show of indifference, +a fierce masculine nonchalance; and when, the next morning, she +brought him his breakfast, he had been smitten dumb as soon as +she entered the room, glueing his eyes upon his plate, his elbows +close to his side, awkward, clumsy, overwhelmed with constraint. + +While true to his convictions as a woman-hater and genuinely +despising Hilma both as a girl and as an inferior, the idea of +her worried him. Most of all, he was angry with himself because +of his inane sheepishness when she was about. He at first had +told himself that he was a fool not to be able to ignore her +existence as hitherto, and then that he was a greater fool not to +take advantage of his position. Certainly he had not the +remotest idea of any affection, but Hilma was a fine looking +girl. He imagined an affair with her. + +As he reflected upon the matter now, scowling abstractedly at the +button of the electric bell, turning the whole business over in +his mind, he remembered that to-day was butter-making day and +that Mrs. Tree would be occupied in the dairy. That meant that +Hilma would take her place. He turned to the mirror of the +sideboard, scrutinising his reflection with grim disfavour. +After a moment, rubbing the roughened surface of his chin the +wrong way, he muttered to his image in the glass: + +That a mug! Good Lord! what a looking mug!" Then, after a +moment's silence, "Wonder if that fool feemale will be up here +to-day." + +He crossed over into his bedroom and peeped around the edge of +the lowered curtain. The window looked out upon the skeleton- +like tower of the artesian well and the cook-house and dairy- +house close beside it. As he watched, he saw Hilma come out from +the cook-house and hurry across toward the kitchen. Evidently, +she was going to see about his dinner. But as she passed by the +artesian well, she met young Delaney, one of Annixter's hands, +coming up the trail by the irrigating ditch, leading his horse +toward the stables, a great coil of barbed wire in his gloved +hands and a pair of nippers thrust into his belt. No doubt, he +had been mending the break in the line fence by the Long Trestle. +Annixter saw him take off his wide-brimmed hat as he met Hilma, +and the two stood there for some moments talking together. +Annixter even heard Hilma laughing very gayly at something +Delaney was saying. She patted his horse's neck affectionately, +and Delaney, drawing the nippers from his belt, made as if to +pinch her arm with them. She caught at his wrist and pushed him +away, laughing again. To Annixter's mind the pair seemed +astonishingly intimate. Brusquely his anger flamed up. + +Ah, that was it, was it? Delaney and Hilma had an understanding +between themselves. They carried on their affair right out there +in the open, under his very eyes. It was absolutely disgusting. +Had they no sense of decency, those two? Well, this ended it. +He would stop that sort of thing short off; none of that on HIS +ranch if he knew it. No, sir. He would pack that girl off +before he was a day older. He wouldn't have that kind about the +place. Not much! She'd have to get out. He would talk to old +man Tree about it this afternoon. Whatever happened, HE insisted +upon morality. + +"And my dinner!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I've got to wait and go +hungry--and maybe get sick again--while they carry on their +disgusting love-making." + +He turned about on the instant, and striding over to the electric +bell, rang it again with all his might. + +"When that feemale gets up here," he declared, "I'll just find +out why I've got to wait like this. I'll take her down, to the +Queen's taste. I'm lenient enough, Lord knows, but I don't +propose to be imposed upon ALL the time ." + +A few moments later, while Annixter was pretending to read the +county newspaper by the window in the dining-room, Hilma came in +to set the table. At the time Annixter had his feet cocked on +the window ledge and was smoking a cigar, but as soon as she +entered the room he--without premeditation--brought his feet down +to the floor and crushed out the lighted tip of his cigar under +the window ledge. Over the top of the paper he glanced at her +covertly from time to time. + +Though Hilma was only nineteen years old, she was a large girl +with all the development of a much older woman. There was a +certain generous amplitude to the full, round curves of her hips +and shoulders that suggested the precocious maturity of a +healthy, vigorous animal life passed under the hot southern sun +of a half-tropical country. She was, one knew at a glance, warm- +blooded, full-blooded, with an even, comfortable balance of +temperament. Her neck was thick, and sloped to her shoulders, +with full, beautiful curves, and under her chin and under her +ears the flesh was as white and smooth as floss satin, shading +exquisitely to a faint delicate brown on her nape at the roots of +her hair. Her throat rounded to meet her chin and cheek, with a +soft swell of the skin, tinted pale amber in the shadows, but +blending by barely perceptible gradations to the sweet, warm +flush of her cheek. This colour on her temples was just touched +with a certain blueness where the flesh was thin over the fine +veining underneath. Her eyes were light brown, and so wide open +that on the slightest provocation the full disc of the pupil was +disclosed; the lids--just a fraction of a shade darker than the +hue of her face--were edged with lashes that were almost black. +While these lashes were not long, they were thick and rimmed her +eyes with a fine, thin line. Her mouth was rather large, the +lips shut tight, and nothing could have been more graceful, more +charming than the outline of these full lips of hers, and her +round white chin, modulating downward with a certain delicious +roundness to her neck, her throat and the sweet feminine +amplitude of her breast. The slightest movement of her head and +shoulders sent a gentle undulation through all this beauty of +soft outlines and smooth surfaces, the delicate amber shadows +deepening or fading or losing themselves imperceptibly in the +pretty rose-colour of her cheeks, or the dark, warm-tinted shadow +of her thick brown hair. + +Her hair seemed almost to have a life of its own, almost Medusa- +like, thick, glossy and moist, lying in heavy, sweet-smelling +masses over her forehead, over her small ears with their pink +lobes, and far down upon her nape. Deep in between the coils and +braids it was of a bitumen brownness, but in the sunlight it +vibrated with a sheen like tarnished gold. + +Like most large girls, her movements were not hurried, and this +indefinite deliberateness of gesture, this slow grace, this +certain ease of attitude, was a charm that was all her own. + +But Hilma's greatest charm of all was her simplicity--a +simplicity that was not only in the calm regularity of her face, +with its statuesque evenness of contour, its broad surface of +cheek and forehead and the masses of her straight smooth hair, +but was apparent as well in the long line of her carriage, from +her foot to her waist and the single deep swell from her waist to +her shoulder. Almost unconsciously she dressed in harmony with +this note of simplicity, and on this occasion wore a skirt of +plain dark blue calico and a white shirt waist crisp from the +laundry. + +And yet, for all the dignity of this rigourous simplicity, there +were about Hilma small contradictory suggestions of feminine +daintiness, charming beyond words. Even Annixter could not help +noticing that her feet were narrow and slender, and that the +little steel buckles of her low shoes were polished bright, and +that her fingertips and nails were of a fine rosy pink. + +He found himself wondering how it was that a girl in Hilma's +position should be able to keep herself so pretty, so trim, so +clean and feminine, but he reflected that her work was chiefly in +the dairy, and even there of the lightest order. She was on the +ranch more for the sake of being with her parents than from any +necessity of employment. Vaguely he seemed to understand that, +in that great new land of the West, in the open-air, healthy life +of the ranches, where the conditions of earning a livelihood were +of the easiest, refinement among the younger women was easily to +be found--not the refinement of education, nor culture, but the +natural, intuitive refinement of the woman, not as yet defiled +and crushed out by the sordid, strenuous life-struggle of over- +populated districts. It was the original, intended and natural +delicacy of an elemental existence, close to nature, close to +life, close to the great, kindly earth. + +As Hilma laid the table-spread, her arms opened to their widest +reach, the white cloth setting a little glisten of reflected +light underneath the chin, Annixter stirred in his place +uneasily. + +"Oh, it's you, is it, Miss Hilma?" he remarked, for the sake of +saying something. "Good-morning. How do you do?" + +"Good-morning, sir," she answered, looking up, resting for a +moment on her outspread palms. "I hope you are better." + +Her voice was low in pitch and of a velvety huskiness, seeming to +come more from her chest than from her throat. + +"Well, I'm some better," growled Annixter. Then suddenly he +demanded, "Where's that dog?" + +A decrepit Irish setter sometimes made his appearance in and +about the ranch house, sleeping under the bed and eating when +anyone about the place thought to give him a plate of bread. + +Annixter had no particular interest in the dog. For weeks at a +time he ignored its existence. It was not his dog. But to-day +it seemed as if he could not let the subject rest. For no reason +that he could explain even to himself, he recurred to it +continually. He questioned Hilma minutely all about the dog. +Who owned him? How old did she think he was? Did she imagine +the dog was sick? Where had he got to? Maybe he had crawled off +to die somewhere. He recurred to the subject all through the +meal; apparently, he could talk of nothing else, and as she +finally went away after clearing off the table, he went onto the +porch and called after her: + +"Say, Miss Hilma." + +"Yes, sir." + +"If that dog turns up again you let me know." + +"Very well, sir." + +Annixter returned to the dining-room and sat down in the chair he +had just vacated. +"To hell with the dog!" he muttered, enraged, he could not tell +why. + +When at length he allowed his attention to wander from Hilma +Tree, he found that he had been staring fixedly at a thermometer +upon the wall opposite, and this made him think that it had long +been his intention to buy a fine barometer, an instrument that +could be accurately depended on. But the barometer suggested the +present condition of the weather and the likelihood of rain. In +such case, much was to be done in the way of getting the seed +ready and overhauling his ploughs and drills. He had not been +away from the house in two days. It was time to be up and doing. +He determined to put in the afternoon "taking a look around," and +have a late supper. He would not go to Los Muertos; he would +ignore Magnus Derrick's invitation. Possibly, though, it might +be well to run over and see what was up. + +"If I do," he said to himself, "I'll ride the buckskin." +The buckskin was a half-broken broncho that fought like a fiend +under the saddle until the quirt and spur brought her to her +senses. But Annixter remembered that the Trees' cottage, next +the dairy-house, looked out upon the stables, and perhaps Hilma +would see him while he was mounting the horse and be impressed +with his courage. + +"Huh!" grunted Annixter under his breath, "I should like to see +that fool Delaney try to bust that bronch. That's what I'D like +to see." + +However, as Annixter stepped from the porch of the ranch house, +he was surprised to notice a grey haze over all the sky; the +sunlight was gone; there was a sense of coolness in the air; the +weather-vane on the barn--a fine golden trotting horse with +flamboyant mane and tail--was veering in a southwest wind. +Evidently the expected rain was close at hand. + +Annixter crossed over to the stables reflecting that he could +ride the buckskin to the Trees' cottage and tell Hilma that he +would not be home to supper. The conference at Los Muertos would +be an admirable excuse for this, and upon the spot he resolved to +go over to the Derrick ranch house, after all. + +As he passed the Trees' cottage, he observed with satisfaction +that Hilma was going to and fro in the front room. If he busted +the buckskin in the yard before the stable she could not help but +see. Annixter found the stableman in the back of the barn +greasing the axles of the buggy, and ordered him to put the +saddle on the buckskin. + +"Why, I don't think she's here, sir," answered the stableman, +glancing into the stalls. "No, I remember now. Delaney took her +out just after dinner. His other horse went lame and he wanted +to go down by the Long Trestle to mend the fence. He started +out, but had to come back." + +"Oh, Delaney got her, did he?" + +"Yes, sir. He had a circus with her, but he busted her right +enough. When it comes to horse, Delaney can wipe the eye of any +cow-puncher in the county, I guess." + +"He can, can he?" observed Annixter. Then after a silence, +"Well, all right, Billy; put my saddle on whatever you've got +here. I'm going over to Los Muertos this afternoon." + +"Want to look out for the rain, Mr. Annixter," remarked Billy. +"Guess we'll have rain before night." + +"I'll take a rubber coat," answered Annixter. "Bring the horse +up to the ranch house when you're ready." + +Annixter returned to the house to look for his rubber coat in +deep disgust, not permitting himself to glance toward the dairy- +house and the Trees' cottage. But as he reached the porch he +heard the telephone ringing his call. It was Presley, who rang +up from Los Muertos. He had heard from Harran that Annixter was, +perhaps, coming over that evening. If he came, would he mind +bringing over his--Presley's--bicycle. He had left it at the +Quien Sabe ranch the day before and had forgotten to come back +that way for it. + +"Well," objected Annixter, a surly note in his voice, "I WAS +going to RIDE over." +"Oh, never mind, then," returned Presley easily. "I was to blame +for forgetting it. Don't bother about it. I'll come over some +of these days and get it myself." + +Annixter hung up the transmitter with a vehement wrench and +stamped out of the room, banging the door. He found his rubber +coat hanging in the hallway and swung into it with a fierce +movement of the shoulders that all but started the seams. +Everything seemed to conspire to thwart him. It was just like +that absent-minded, crazy poet, Presley, to forget his wheel. +Well, he could come after it himself. He, Annixter, would ride +SOME horse, anyhow. When he came out upon the porch he saw the +wheel leaning against the fence where Presley had left it. If it +stayed there much longer the rain would catch it. Annixter +ripped out an oath. At every moment his ill-humour was +increasing. Yet, for all that, he went back to the stable, +pushing the bicycle before him, and countermanded his order, +directing the stableman to get the buggy ready. He himself +carefully stowed Presley's bicycle under the seat, covering it +with a couple of empty sacks and a tarpaulin carriage cover. + +While he was doing this, the stableman uttered an exclamation and +paused in the act of backing the horse into the shafts, holding +up a hand, listening. + +From the hollow roof of the barn and from the thick velvet-like +padding of dust over the ground outside, and from among the +leaves of the few nearby trees and plants there came a vast, +monotonous murmur that seemed to issue from all quarters of the +horizon at once, a prolonged and subdued rustling sound, steady, +even, persistent. + +"There's your rain," announced the stableman. "The first of the +season." + +"And I got to be out in it," fumed Annixter, "and I suppose those +swine will quit work on the big barn now." + +When the buggy was finally ready, he put on his rubber coat, +climbed in, and without waiting for the stableman to raise the +top, drove out into the rain, a new-lit cigar in his teeth. As +he passed the dairy-house, he saw Hilma standing in the doorway, +holding out her hand to the rain, her face turned upward toward +the grey sky, amused and interested at this first shower of the +wet season. She was so absorbed that she did not see Annixter, +and his clumsy nod in her direction passed unnoticed. + +"She did it on purpose," Annixter told himself, chewing fiercely +on his cigar. "Cuts me now, hey? Well, this DOES settle it. +She leaves this ranch before I'm a day older." + +He decided that he would put off his tour of inspection till the +next day. Travelling in the buggy as he did, he must keep to the +road which led to Derrick's, in very roundabout fashion, by way +of Guadalajara. This rain would reduce the thick dust of the +road to two feet of viscid mud. It would take him quite three +hours to reach the ranch house on Los Muertos. He thought of +Delaney and the buckskin and ground his teeth. And all this +trouble, if you please, because of a fool feemale girl. A fine +way for him to waste his time. Well, now he was done with it. +His decision was taken now. She should pack. + +Steadily the rain increased. There was no wind. The thick veil +of wet descended straight from sky to earth, blurring distant +outlines, spreading a vast sheen of grey over all the landscape. +Its volume became greater, the prolonged murmuring note took on a +deeper tone. At the gate to the road which led across Dyke's +hop-fields toward Guadalajara, Annixter was obliged to descend +and raise the top of the buggy. In doing so he caught the flesh +of his hand in the joint of the iron elbow that supported the top +and pinched it cruelly. It was the last misery, the culmination +of a long train of wretchedness. On the instant he hated Hilma +Tree so fiercely that his sharply set teeth all but bit his cigar +in two. + +While he was grabbing and wrenching at the buggy-top, the water +from his hat brim dripping down upon his nose, the horse, restive +under the drench of the rain, moved uneasily. + +"Yah-h-h you!" he shouted, inarticulate with exasperation. "You-- +you--Gor-r-r, wait till I get hold of you. WHOA, you!" + +But there was an interruption. Delaney, riding the buckskin, +came around a bend in the road at a slow trot and Annixter, +getting into the buggy again, found himself face to face with +him. + +"Why, hello, Mr. Annixter," said he, pulling up. "Kind of sort +of wet, isn't it?" + +Annixter, his face suddenly scarlet, sat back in his place +abruptly, exclaiming: + +"Oh--oh, there you are, are you?" + +"I've been down there," explained Delaney, with a motion of his +head toward the railroad, "to mend that break in the fence by the +Long Trestle and I thought while I was about it I'd follow down +along the fence toward Guadalajara to see if there were any more +breaks. But I guess it's all right." + +"Oh, you guess it's all right, do you?" observed Annixter through +his teeth. + +"Why--why--yes," returned the other, bewildered at the truculent +ring in Annixter's voice. "I mended that break by the Long +Trestle just now and---- + +"Well, why didn't you mend it a week ago?" shouted Annixter +wrathfully. "I've been looking for you all the morning, I have, +and who told you you could take that buckskin? And the sheep +were all over the right of way last night because of that break, +and here that filthy pip, S. Behrman, comes down here this +morning and wants to make trouble for me." Suddenly he cried +out, "What do I FEED you for? What do I keep you around here +for? Think it's just to fatten up your carcass, hey?" + +"Why, Mr. Annixter----" began Delaney. + +"And don't TALK to me," vociferated the other, exciting himself +with his own noise. "Don't you say a word to me even to +apologise. If I've spoken to you once about that break, I've +spoken fifty times." + +"Why, sir," declared Delaney, beginning to get indignant, "the +sheep did it themselves last night." + +"I told you not to TALK to me," clamoured Annixter. + +"But, say, look here----" + +"Get off the ranch. You get off the ranch. And taking that +buckskin against my express orders. I won't have your kind about +the place, not much. I'm easy-going enough, Lord knows, but I +don't propose to be imposed on ALL the time. Pack off, you +understand and do it lively. Go to the foreman and tell him I +told him to pay you off and then clear out. And, you hear me," +he concluded, with a menacing outthrust of his lower jaw, "you +hear me, if I catch you hanging around the ranch house after +this, or if I so much as see you on Quien Sabe, I'll show you the +way off of it, my friend, at the toe of my boot. Now, then, get +out of the way and let me pass." + +Angry beyond the power of retort, Delaney drove the spurs into +the buckskin and passed the buggy in a single bound. Annixter +gathered up the reins and drove on muttering to himself, and +occasionally looking back to observe the buckskin flying toward +the ranch house in a spattering shower of mud, Delaney urging her +on, his head bent down against the falling rain. + +"Huh," grunted Annixter with grim satisfaction, a certain sense +of good humour at length returning to him, "that just about takes +the saleratus out of YOUR dough, my friend." + +A little farther on, Annixter got out of the buggy a second time +to open another gate that let him out upon the Upper Road, not +far distant from Guadalajara. It was the road that connected +that town with Bonneville and that ran parallel with the railroad +tracks. On the other side of the track he could see the infinite +extension of the brown, bare land of Los Muertos, turning now to +a soft, moist welter of fertility under the insistent caressing +of the rain. The hard, sun-baked clods were decomposing, the +crevices between drinking the wet with an eager, sucking noise. +But the prospect was dreary; the distant horizons were blotted +under drifting mists of rain; the eternal monotony of the earth +lay open to the sombre low sky without a single adornment, +without a single variation from its melancholy flatness. Near at +hand the wires between the telegraph poles vibrated with a faint +humming under the multitudinous fingering of the myriad of +falling drops, striking among them and dripping off steadily from +one to another. The poles themselves were dark and swollen and +glistening with wet, while the little cones of glass on the +transverse bars reflected the dull grey light of the end of the +afternoon. + +As Annixter was about to drive on, a freight train passed, coming +from Guadalajara, going northward toward Bonneville, Fresno and +San Francisco. It was a long train, moving slowly, methodically, +with a measured coughing of its locomotive and a rhythmic cadence +of its trucks over the interstices of the rails. On two or three +of the flat cars near its end, Annixter plainly saw Magnus +Derrick's ploughs, their bright coating of red and green paint +setting a single brilliant note in all this array of grey and +brown. + +Annixter halted, watching the train file past, carrying Derrick's +ploughs away from his ranch, at this very time of the first rain, +when they would be most needed. He watched it, silent, +thoughtful, and without articulate comment. Even after it passed +he sat in his place a long time, watching it lose itself slowly +in the distance, its prolonged rumble diminishing to a faint +murmur. Soon he heard the engine sounding its whistle for the +Long Trestle. + +But the moving train no longer carried with it that impression of +terror and destruction that had so thrilled Presley's imagination +the night before. It passed slowly on its way with a mournful +roll of wheels, like the passing of a cortege, like a file of +artillery-caissons charioting dead bodies; the engine's smoke +enveloping it in a mournful veil, leaving a sense of melancholy +in its wake, moving past there, lugubrious, lamentable, +infinitely sad under the grey sky and under the grey mist of rain +which continued to fall with a subdued, rustling sound, steady, +persistent, a vast monotonous murmur that seemed to come from all +quarters of the horizon at once. + + + +CHAPTER III + + +When Annixter arrived at the Los Muertos ranch house that same +evening, he found a little group already assembled in the dining- +room. Magnus Derrick, wearing the frock coat of broadcloth that +he had put on for the occasion, stood with his back to the +fireplace. Harran sat close at hand, one leg thrown over the arm +of his chair. Presley lounged on the sofa, in corduroys and high +laced boots, smoking cigarettes. Broderson leaned on his folded +arms at one corner of the dining table, and Genslinger, editor +and proprietor of the principal newspaper of the county, the +"Bonneville Mercury," stood with his hat and driving gloves under +his arm, opposite Derrick, a half-emptied glass of whiskey and +water in his hand. + +As Annixter entered he heard Genslinger observe: "I'll have a +leader in the 'Mercury' to-morrow that will interest you people. +There's some talk of your ranch lands being graded in value this +winter. I suppose you will all buy?" + +In an instant the editor's words had riveted upon him the +attention of every man in the room. Annixter broke the moment's +silence that followed with the remark: + +"Well, it's about time they graded these lands of theirs." + +The question in issue in Genslinger's remark was of the most +vital interest to the ranchers around Bonneville and Guadalajara. +Neither Magnus Derrick, Broderson, Annixter, nor Osterman +actually owned all the ranches which they worked. As yet, the +vast majority of these wheat lands were the property of the P. +and S. W. The explanation of this condition of affairs went back +to the early history of the Pacific and Southwestern, when, as a +bonus for the construction of the road, the national government +had granted to the company the odd numbered sections of land on +either side of the proposed line of route for a distance of +twenty miles. Indisputably, these sections belonged to the P. +and S. W. The even-numbered sections being government property +could be and had been taken up by the ranchers, but the railroad +sections, or, as they were called, the "alternate sections," +would have to be purchased direct from the railroad itself. + +But this had not prevented the farmers from "coming in" upon that +part of the San Joaquin. Long before this the railroad had +thrown open these lands, and, by means of circulars, distributed +broadcast throughout the State, had expressly invited settlement +thereon. At that time patents had not been issued to the +railroad for their odd-numbered sections, but as soon as the land +was patented the railroad would grade it in value and offer it +for sale, the first occupants having the first chance of +purchase. The price of these lands was to be fixed by the price +the government put upon its own adjoining lands--about two +dollars and a half per acre. + +With cultivation and improvement the ranches must inevitably +appreciate in value. There was every chance to make fortunes. +When the railroad lands about Bonneville had been thrown open, +there had been almost a rush in the matter of settlement, and +Broderson, Annixter, Derrick, and Osterman, being foremost with +their claims, had secured the pick of the country. But the land +once settled upon, the P. and S. W. seemed to be in no hurry as +to fixing exactly the value of its sections included in the +various ranches and offering them for sale. The matter dragged +along from year to year, was forgotten for months together, being +only brought to mind on such occasions as this, when the rumour +spread that the General Office was about to take definite action +in the affair. + +"As soon as the railroad wants to talk business with me," +observed Annixter, "about selling me their interest in Quien +Sabe, I'm ready. The land has more than quadrupled in value. I +ll bet I could sell it to-morrow for fifteen dollars an acre, and +if I buy of the railroad for two and a half an acre, there's +boodle in the game." + +"For two and a half!" exclaimed Genslinger. "You don't suppose +the railroad will let their land go for any such figure as that, +do you? Wherever did you get that idea?" + +"From the circulars and pamphlets," answered Harran, "that the +railroad issued to us when they opened these lands. They are +pledged to that. Even the P. and S. W. couldn't break such a +pledge as that. You are new in the country, Mr. Genslinger. You +don't remember the conditions upon which we took up this land." + +"And our improvements," exclaimed Annixter. "Why, Magnus and I +have put about five thousand dollars between us into that +irrigating ditch already. I guess we are not improving the land +just to make it valuable for the railroad people. No matter how +much we improve the land, or how much it increases in value, they +have got to stick by their agreement on the basis of two-fifty +per acre. Here's one case where the P. and S. W. DON'T get +everything in sight." + +Genslinger frowned, perplexed. + +"I AM new in the country, as Harran says," he answered, "but it +seems to me that there's no fairness in that proposition. The +presence of the railroad has helped increase the value of your +ranches quite as much as your improvements. Why should you get +all the benefit of the rise in value and the railroad nothing? +The fair way would be to share it between you." + +"I don't care anything about that," declared Annixter. "They +agreed to charge but two-fifty, and they've got to stick to it." + +"Well," murmured Genslinger, "from what I know of the affair, I +don't believe the P. and S. W. intends to sell for two-fifty an +acre, at all. The managers of the road want the best price they +can get for everything in these hard times." + +"Times aren't ever very hard for the railroad," hazards old +Broderson. + +Broderson was the oldest man in the room. He was about sixty- +five years of age, venerable, with a white beard, his figure bent +earthwards with hard work. + +He was a narrow-minded man, painfully conscientious in his +statements lest he should be unjust to somebody; a slow thinker, +unable to let a subject drop when once he had started upon it. +He had no sooner uttered his remark about hard times than he was +moved to qualify it. + +"Hard times," he repeated, a troubled, perplexed note in his +voice; "well, yes--yes. I suppose the road DOES have hard times, +maybe. Everybody does--of course. I didn't mean that exactly. +I believe in being just and fair to everybody. I mean that we've +got to use their lines and pay their charges good years AND bad +years, the P. and S. W. being the only road in the State. That +is--well, when I say the only road--no, I won't say the ONLY +road. Of course there are other roads. There's the D. P. and M. +and the San Francisco and North Pacific, that runs up to Ukiah. +I got a brother-in-law in Ukiah. That's not much of a wheat +country round Ukiah though they DO grow SOME wheat there, come to +think. But I guess it's too far north. Well, of course there +isn't MUCH. Perhaps sixty thousand acres in the whole county--if +you include barley and oats. I don't know; maybe it's nearer +forty thousand. I don't remember very well. That's a good many +years ago. I----" + +But Annixter, at the end of all patience, turned to Genslinger, +cutting short the old man: + +"Oh, rot! Of course the railroad will sell at two-fifty," he +cried. "We've got the contracts." + +"Look to them, then, Mr. Annixter," retorted Genslinger +significantly, "look to them. Be sure that you are protected." + +Soon after this Genslinger took himself away, and Derrick's +Chinaman came in to set the table. + +"What do you suppose he meant?" asked Broderson, when Genslinger +was gone. + +"About this land business?" said Annixter. "Oh, I don't know. +Some tom fool idea. Haven't we got their terms printed in black +and white in their circulars? There's their pledge." + +"Oh, as to pledges," murmured Broderson, "the railroad is not +always TOO much hindered by those." + +"Where's Osterman?" demanded Annixter, abruptly changing the +subject as if it were not worth discussion. "Isn't that goat +Osterman coming down here to-night?" + +"You telephoned him, didn't you, Presley?" inquired Magnus . + +Presley had taken Princess Nathalie upon his knee stroking her +long, sleek hair, and the cat, stupefied with beatitude, had +closed her eyes to two fine lines, clawing softly at the corduroy +of Presley's trousers with alternate paws. + +"Yes, sir," returned Presley. "He said he would be here." + +And as he spoke, young Osterman arrived. + +He was a young fellow, but singularly inclined to baldness. His +ears, very red and large, stuck out at right angles from either +side of his head, and his mouth, too, was large--a great +horizontal slit beneath his nose. His cheeks were of a brownish +red, the cheek bones a little salient. His face was that of a +comic actor, a singer of songs, a man never at a loss for an +answer, continually striving to make a laugh. But he took no +great interest in ranching and left the management of his land to +his superintendents and foremen, he, himself, living in +Bonneville. He was a poser, a wearer of clothes, forever acting +a part, striving to create an impression, to draw attention to +himself. He was not without a certain energy, but he devoted it +to small ends, to perfecting himself in little accomplishments, +continually running after some new thing, incapable of persisting +long in any one course. At one moment his mania would be +fencing; the next, sleight-of-hand tricks; the next, archery. +For upwards of one month he had devoted himself to learning how +to play two banjos simultaneously, then abandoning this had +developed a sudden passion for stamped leather work and had made +a quantity of purses, tennis belts, and hat bands, which he +presented to young ladies of his acquaintance. It was his policy +never to make an enemy. He was liked far better than he was +respected. People spoke of him as "that goat Osterman," or "that +fool Osterman kid," and invited him to dinner. He was of the +sort who somehow cannot be ignored. If only because of his +clamour he made himself important. If he had one abiding trait, +it was his desire of astonishing people, and in some way, best +known to himself, managed to cause the circulation of the most +extraordinary stories wherein he, himself, was the chief actor. +He was glib, voluble, dexterous, ubiquitous, a teller of funny +stories, a cracker of jokes. + +Naturally enough, he was heavily in debt, but carried the burden +of it with perfect nonchalance. The year before S. Behrman had +held mortgages for fully a third of his crop and had squeezed him +viciously for interest. But for all that, Osterman and S. +Behrman were continually seen arm-in-arm on the main street of +Bonneville. Osterman was accustomed to slap S. Behrman on his +fat back, declaring: + +"You're a good fellow, old jelly-belly, after all, hey?" + +As Osterman entered from the porch, after hanging his cavalry +poncho and dripping hat on the rack outside, Mrs. Derrick +appeared in the door that opened from the dining-room into the +glass-roofed hallway just beyond. Osterman saluted her with +effusive cordiality and with ingratiating blandness. + +"I am not going to stay," she explained, smiling pleasantly at +the group of men, her pretty, wide-open brown eyes, with their +look of inquiry and innocence, glancing from face to face, "I +only came to see if you wanted anything and to say how do you +do." + +She began talking to old Broderson, making inquiries as to his +wife, who had been sick the last week, and Osterman turned to the +company, shaking hands all around, keeping up an incessant stream +of conversation. + +"Hello, boys and girls. Hello, Governor. Sort of a gathering of +the clans to-night. Well, if here isn't that man Annixter. +Hello, Buck. What do you know? Kind of dusty out to-night." + +At once Annixter began to get red in the face, retiring towards a +corner of the room, standing in an awkward position by the case +of stuffed birds, shambling and confused, while Mrs. Derrick was +present, standing rigidly on both feet, his elbows close to his +sides. But he was angry with Osterman, muttering imprecations to +himself, horribly vexed that the young fellow should call him +"Buck" before Magnus's wife. This goat Osterman! Hadn't he any +sense, that fool? Couldn't he ever learn how to behave before a +feemale? Calling him "Buck" like that while Mrs. Derrick was +there. Why a stable-boy would know better; a hired man would +have better manners. +All through the dinner that followed Annixter was out of sorts, +sulking in his place, refusing to eat by way of vindicating his +self-respect, resolving to bring Osterman up with a sharp turn if +he called him "Buck" again. + +The Chinaman had made a certain kind of plum pudding for dessert, +and Annixter, who remembered other dinners at the Derrick's, had +been saving himself for this, and had meditated upon it all +through the meal. No doubt, it would restore all his good +humour, and he believed his stomach was so far recovered as to be +able to stand it. + +But, unfortunately, the pudding was served with a sauce that he +abhorred--a thick, gruel-like, colourless mixture, made from +plain water and sugar. Before he could interfere, the Chinaman +had poured a quantity of it upon his plate. + +"Faugh!" exclaimed Annixter. "It makes me sick. Such--such +SLOOP. Take it away. I'll have mine straight, if you don't +mind." + +"That's good for your stomach, Buck," observed young Osterman; +"makes it go down kind of sort of slick; don't you see? Sloop, +hey? That's a good name." + +"Look here, don't you call me Buck. You don't seem to have any +sense, and, besides, it ISN'T good for my stomach. I know +better. What do YOU know about my stomach, anyhow? Just looking +at sloop like that makes me sick." + +A little while after this the Chinaman cleared away the dessert +and brought in coffee and cigars. The whiskey bottle and the +syphon of soda-water reappeared. The men eased themselves in +their places, pushing back from the table, lighting their cigars, +talking of the beginning of the rains and the prospects of a rise +in wheat. Broderson began an elaborate mental calculation, +trying to settle in his mind the exact date of his visit to +Ukiah, and Osterman did sleight-of-hand tricks with bread pills. +But Princess Nathalie, the cat, was uneasy. Annixter was +occupying her own particular chair in which she slept every +night. She could not go to sleep, but spied upon him +continually, watching his every movement with her lambent, yellow +eyes, clear as amber. + +Then, at length, Magnus, who was at the head of the table, moved +in his place, assuming a certain magisterial attitude. "Well, +gentlemen," he observed, "I have lost my case against the +railroad, the grain-rate case. Ulsteen decided against me, and +now I hear rumours to the effect that rates for the hauling of +grain are to be advanced." + +When Magnus had finished, there was a moment's silence, each +member of the group maintaining his attitude of attention and +interest. It was Harran who first spoke. + +"S. Behrman manipulated the whole affair. There's a big deal of +some kind in the air, and if there is, we all know who is back of +it; S. Behrman, of course, but who's back of him? It's +Shelgrim." + +Shelgrim! The name fell squarely in the midst of the +conversation, abrupt, grave, sombre, big with suggestion, +pregnant with huge associations. No one in the group who was not +familiar with it; no one, for that matter, in the county, the +State, the whole reach of the West, the entire Union, that did +not entertain convictions as to the man who carried it; a giant +figure in the end-of-the-century finance, a product of +circumstance, an inevitable result of conditions, characteristic, +typical, symbolic of ungovernable forces. In the New Movement, +the New Finance, the reorganisation of capital, the amalgamation +of powers, the consolidation of enormous enterprises--no one +individual was more constantly in the eye of the world; no one +was more hated, more dreaded, no one more compelling of unwilling +tribute to his commanding genius, to the colossal intellect +operating the width of an entire continent than the president and +owner of the Pacific and Southwestern. + +"I don't think, however, he has moved yet," said Magnus. + +"The thing for us, then," exclaimed Osterman, "is to stand from +under before he does." + +"Moved yet!" snorted Annixter. "He's probably moved so long ago +that we've never noticed it." + +"In any case," hazarded Magnus, "it is scarcely probable that the +deal--whatever it is to be--has been consummated. If we act +quickly, there may be a chance." + +"Act quickly! How?" demanded Annixter. "Good Lord! what can +you do? We're cinched already. It all amounts to just this: YOU +CAN'T BUCK AGAINST THE RAILROAD. We've tried it and tried it, +and we are stuck every time. You, yourself, Derrick, have just +lost your grain-rate case. S. Behrman did you up. Shelgrim owns +the courts. He's got men like Ulsteen in his pocket. He's got +the Railroad Commission in his pocket. He's got the Governor of +the State in his pocket. He keeps a million-dollar lobby at +Sacramento every minute of the time the legislature is in +session; he's got his own men on the floor of the United States +Senate. He has the whole thing organised like an army corps. +What ARE you going to do? He sits in his office in San +Francisco and pulls the strings and we've got to dance." + +"But--well--but," hazarded Broderson, "but there's the Interstate +Commerce Commission. At least on long-haul rates they----" + +"Hoh, yes, the Interstate Commerce Commission," shouted Annixter, +scornfully, "that's great, ain't it? The greatest Punch and +Judy; show on earth. It's almost as good as the Railroad +Commission. There never was and there never will be a California +Railroad Commission not in the pay of the P. and S. W." + +"It is to the Railroad Commission, nevertheless," remarked +Magnus, "that the people of the State must look for relief. That +is our only hope. Once elect Commissioners who would be loyal to +the people, and the whole system of excessive rates falls to the +ground." + +"Well, why not HAVE a Railroad Commission of our own, then?" +suddenly declared young Osterman. + +"Because it can't be done," retorted Annixter. "YOU CAN'T BUCK +AGAINST THE RAILROAD and if you could you can't organise the +farmers in the San Joaquin. We tried it once, and it was enough +to turn your stomach. The railroad quietly bought delegates +through S. Behrman and did us up." + +"Well, that's the game to play," said Osterman decisively, "buy +delegates." + +"It's the only game that seems to win," admitted Harran gloomily. +"Or ever will win," exclaimed Osterman, a sudden excitement +seeming to take possession of him. His face--the face of a comic +actor, with its great slit of mouth and stiff, red ears--went +abruptly pink. + +"Look here," he cried, "this thing is getting desperate. We've +fought and fought in the courts and out and we've tried agitation +and--and all the rest of it and S. Behrman sacks us every time. +Now comes the time when there's a prospect of a big crop; we've +had no rain for two years and the land has had a long rest. If +there is any rain at all this winter, we'll have a bonanza year, +and just at this very moment when we've got our chance--a chance +to pay off our mortgages and get clear of debt and make a strike-- +here is Shelgrim making a deal to cinch us and put up rates. +And now here's the primaries coming off and a new Railroad +Commission going in. That's why Shelgrim chose this time to make +his deal. If we wait till Shelgrim pulls it off, we're done for, +that's flat. I tell you we're in a fix if we don't keep an eye +open. Things are getting desperate. Magnus has just said that +the key to the whole thing is the Railroad Commission. Well, why +not have a Commission of our own? Never mind how we get it, +let's get it. If it's got to be bought, let's buy it and put our +own men on it and dictate what the rates will be. Suppose it +costs a hundred thousand dollars. Well, we'll get back more than +that in cheap rates." + +"Mr. Osterman," said Magnus, fixing the young man with a swift +glance, "Mr. Osterman, you are proposing a scheme of bribery, +sir." + +"I am proposing," repeated Osterman, "a scheme of bribery. +Exactly so." + +"And a crazy, wild-eyed scheme at that," said Annixter gruffly. +"Even supposing you bought a Railroad Commission and got your +schedule of low rates, what happens? The P. and S. W. crowd get +out an injunction and tie you up." + +"They would tie themselves up, too. Hauling at low rates is +better than no hauling at all. The wheat has got to be moved." +"Oh, rot!" cried Annixter. "Aren't you ever going to learn any +sense? Don't you know that cheap transportation would benefit +the Liverpool buyers and not us? Can't it be FED into you that +you can't buck against the railroad? When you try to buy a Board +of Commissioners don't you see that you'll have to bid against +the railroad, bid against a corporation that can chuck out +millions to our thousands? Do you think you can bid against the +P. and S. W.?" + +"The railroad don't need to know we are in the game against them +till we've got our men seated." + +"And when you've got them seated, what's to prevent the +corporation buying them right over your head?" + +"If we've got the right kind of men in they could not be bought +that way," interposed Harran. "I don't know but what there's +something in what Osterman says. We'd have the naming of the +Commission and we'd name honest men." + +Annixter struck the table with his fist in exasperation. + +"Honest men!" he shouted; "the kind of men you could get to go +into such a scheme would have to be DIS-honest to begin with." + +Broderson, shifting uneasily in his place, fingering his beard +with a vague, uncertain gesture, spoke again: + +"It would be the CHANCE of them--our Commissioners--selling out +against the certainty of Shelgrim doing us up. That is," he +hastened to add, "ALMOST a certainty; pretty near a certainty." + +"Of course, it would be a chance," exclaimed Osterman. "But it's +come to the point where we've got to take chances, risk a big +stake to make a big strike, and risk is better than sure +failure." + +"I can be no party to a scheme of avowed bribery and corruption, +Mr. Osterman," declared Magnus, a ring of severity in his voice. +"I am surprised, sir, that you should even broach the subject in +my hearing." + +"And," cried Annixter, "it can't be done." + +"I don't know," muttered Harran, "maybe it just wants a little +spark like this to fire the whole train." + +Magnus glanced at his son in considerable surprise. He had not +expected this of Harran. But so great was his affection for his +son, so accustomed had he become to listening to his advice, to +respecting his opinions, that, for the moment, after the first +shock of surprise and disappointment, he was influenced to give a +certain degree of attention to this new proposition. He in no +way countenanced it. At any moment he was prepared to rise in +his place and denounce it and Osterman both. It was trickery of +the most contemptible order, a thing he believed to be unknown to +the old school of politics and statesmanship to which he was +proud to belong; but since Harran, even for one moment, +considered it, he, Magnus, who trusted Harran implicitly, would +do likewise--if it was only to oppose and defeat it in its very +beginnings. + +And abruptly the discussion began. Gradually Osterman, by dint +of his clamour, his strident reiteration, the plausibility of his +glib, ready assertions, the ease with which he extricated himself +when apparently driven to a corner, completely won over old +Broderson to his way of thinking. Osterman bewildered him with +his volubility, the lightning rapidity with which he leaped from +one subject to another, garrulous, witty, flamboyant, terrifying +the old man with pictures of the swift approach of ruin, the +imminence of danger. + +Annixter, who led the argument against him--loving argument +though he did--appeared to poor advantage, unable to present his +side effectively. He called Osterman a fool, a goat, a +senseless, crazy-headed jackass, but was unable to refute his +assertions. His debate was the clumsy heaving of brickbats, +brutal, direct. He contradicted everything Osterman said as a +matter of principle, made conflicting assertions, declarations +that were absolutely inconsistent, and when Osterman or Harran +used these against him, could only exclaim: + +"Well, in a way it's so, and then again in a way it isn't." + +But suddenly Osterman discovered a new argument. "If we swing +this deal," he cried, "we've got old jelly-belly Behrman right +where we want him." + +"He's the man that does us every time," cried Harran. "If there +is dirty work to be done in which the railroad doesn't wish to +appear, it is S. Behrman who does it. If the freight rates are +to be 'adjusted' to squeeze us a little harder, it is S. Behrman +who regulates what we can stand. If there's a judge to be +bought, it is S. Behrman who does the bargaining. If there is a +jury to be bribed, it is S. Behrman who handles the money. If +there is an election to be jobbed, it is S. Behrman who +manipulates it. It's Behrman here and Behrman there. It is +Behrman we come against every time we make a move. It is Behrman +who has the grip of us and will never let go till he has squeezed +us bone dry. Why, when I think of it all sometimes I wonder I +keep my hands off the man." + +Osterman got on his feet; leaning across the table, gesturing +wildly with his right hand, his serio-comic face, with its bald +forehead and stiff, red ears, was inflamed with excitement. He +took the floor, creating an impression, attracting all attention +to himself, playing to the gallery, gesticulating, clamourous, +full of noise. + +"Well, now is your chance to get even," he vociferated. "It is +now or never. You can take it and save the situation for +yourselves and all California or you can leave it and rot on your +own ranches. Buck, I know you. I know you're not afraid of +anything that wears skin. I know you've got sand all through +you, and I know if I showed you how we could put our deal through +and seat a Commission of our own, you wouldn't hang back. +Governor, you're a brave man. You know the advantage of prompt +and fearless action. You are not the sort to shrink from taking +chances. To play for big stakes is just your game--to stake a +fortune on the turn of a card. You didn't get the reputation of +being the strongest poker player in El Dorado County for nothing. +Now, here's the biggest gamble that ever came your way. If we +stand up to it like men with guts in us, we'll win out. If we +hesitate, we're lost." + +"I don't suppose you can help playing the goat, Osterman," +remarked Annixter, "but what's your idea? What do you think we +can do? I'm not saying," he hastened to interpose, "that you've +anyways convinced me by all this cackling. I know as well as you +that we are in a hole. But I knew that before I came here to- +night. YOU'VE not done anything to make me change my mind. But +just what do you propose? Let's hear it." + +"Well, I say the first thing to do is to see Disbrow. He's the +political boss of the Denver, Pueblo, and Mojave road. We will +have to get in with the machine some way and that's particularly +why I want Magnus with us. He knows politics better than any of +us and if we don't want to get sold again we will have to have +some one that's in the know to steer us." + +"The only politics I understand, Mr. Osterman," answered Magnus +sternly, "are honest politics. You must look elsewhere for your +political manager. I refuse to have any part in this matter. If +the Railroad Commission can be nominated legitimately, if your +arrangements can be made without bribery, I am with you to the +last iota of my ability." + +"Well, you can't get what you want without paying for it," +contradicted Annixter. + +Broderson was about to speak when Osterman kicked his foot under +the table. He, himself, held his peace. He was quick to see +that if he could involve Magnus and Annixter in an argument, +Annixter, for the mere love of contention, would oppose the +Governor and, without knowing it, would commit himself to his-- +Osterman's--scheme. + +This was precisely what happened. In a few moments Annixter was +declaring at top voice his readiness to mortgage the crop of +Quien Sabe, if necessary, for the sake of "busting S. Behrman." +He could see no great obstacle in the way of controlling the +nominating convention so far as securing the naming of two +Railroad Commissioners was concerned. Two was all they needed. +Probably it WOULD cost money. You didn't get something for +nothing. It would cost them all a good deal more if they sat +like lumps on a log and played tiddledy-winks while Shelgrim sold +out from under them. Then there was this, too: the P. and S. W. +were hard up just then. The shortage on the State's wheat crop +for the last two years had affected them, too. They were +retrenching in expenditures all along the line. Hadn't they just +cut wages in all departments? There was this affair of Dyke's to +prove it. The railroad didn't always act as a unit, either. +There was always a party in it that opposed spending too much +money. He would bet that party was strong just now. He was kind +of sick himself of being kicked by S. Behrman. Hadn't that pip +turned up on his ranch that very day to bully him about his own +line fence? Next he would be telling him what kind of clothes he +ought to wear. Harran had the right idea. Somebody had got to +be busted mighty soon now and he didn't propose that it should be +he. + +"Now you are talking something like sense," observed Osterman. +"I thought you would see it like that when you got my idea." + +"Your idea, YOUR idea!" cried Annixter. "Why, I've had this idea +myself for over three years." + +"What about Disbrow?" asked Harran, hastening to interrupt. "Why +do we want to see Disbrow?" + +"Disbrow is the political man for the Denver, Pueblo, and +Mojave," answered Osterman, "and you see it's like this: the +Mojave road don't run up into the valley at all. Their terminus +is way to the south of us, and they don't care anything about +grain rates through the San Joaquin. They don't care how anti- +railroad the Commission is, because the Commission's rulings +can't affect them. But they divide traffic with the P. and S. W. +in the southern part of the State and they have a good deal of +influence with that road. I want to get the Mojave road, through +Disbrow, to recommend a Commissioner of our choosing to the P. +and S. W. and have the P. and S. W. adopt him as their own." + +"Who, for instance?" + +"Darrell, that Los Angeles man--remember?" + +"Well, Darrell is no particular friend of Disbrow," said +Annixter. "Why should Disbrow take him up?" + +"PREE-cisely," cried Osterman. "We make it worth Disbrow's while +to do it. We go to him and say, 'Mr. Disbrow, you manage the +politics for the Mojave railroad, and what you say goes with your +Board of Directors. We want you to adopt our candidate for +Railroad Commissioner for the third district. How much do you +want for doing it?' I KNOW we can buy Disbrow. That gives us one +Commissioner. We need not bother about that any more. In the +first district we don't make any move at all. We let the +political managers of the P. and S. W. nominate whoever they +like. Then we concentrate all our efforts to putting in our man +in the second district. There is where the big fight will come." + +"I see perfectly well what you mean, Mr. Osterman," observed +Magnus, "but make no mistake, sir, as to my attitude in this +business. You may count me as out of it entirely." + +"Well, suppose we win," put in Annixter truculently, already +acknowledging himself as involved in the proposed undertaking; +"suppose we win and get low rates for hauling grain. How about +you, then? You count yourself IN then, don't you? You get all +the benefit of lower rates without sharing any of the risks we +take to secure them. No, nor any of the expense, either. No, +you won't dirty your fingers with helping us put this deal +through, but you won't be so cursed particular when it comes to +sharing the profits, will you?" + +Magnus rose abruptly to his full height, the nostrils of his +thin, hawk-like nose vibrating, his smooth-shaven face paler than +ever. + +"Stop right where you are, sir," he exclaimed. "You forget +yourself, Mr. Annixter. Please understand that I tolerate such +words as you have permitted yourself to make use of from no man, +not even from my guest. I shall ask you to apologise." + +In an instant he dominated the entire group, imposing a respect +that was as much fear as admiration. No one made response. For +the moment he was the Master again, the Leader. Like so many +delinquent school-boys, the others cowered before him, ashamed, +put to confusion, unable to find their tongues. In that brief +instant of silence following upon Magnus's outburst, and while he +held them subdued and over-mastered, the fabric of their scheme +of corruption and dishonesty trembled to its base. It was the +last protest of the Old School, rising up there in denunciation +of the new order of things, the statesman opposed to the +politician; honesty, rectitude, uncompromising integrity, +prevailing for the last time against the devious manoeuvring, the +evil communications, the rotten expediency of a corrupted +institution. + +For a few seconds no one answered. Then, Annixter, moving +abruptly and uneasily in his place, muttered: + +"I spoke upon provocation. If you like, we'll consider it +unsaid. I don't know what's going to become of us--go out of +business, I presume." + +"I understand Magnus all right," put in Osterman. "He don't have +to go into this thing, if it's against his conscience. That's +all right. Magnus can stay out if he wants to, but that won't +prevent us going ahead and seeing what we can do. Only there's +this about it." He turned again to Magnus, speaking with every +degree of earnestness, every appearance of conviction. "I did +not deny, Governor, from the very start that this would mean +bribery. But you don't suppose that I like the idea either. If +there was one legitimate hope that was yet left untried, no +matter how forlorn it was, I would try it. But there's not. It +is literally and soberly true that every means of help--every +honest means--has been attempted. Shelgrim is going to cinch us. +Grain rates are increasing, while, on the other hand, the price +of wheat is sagging lower and lower all the time. If we don't do +something we are ruined." + +Osterman paused for a moment, allowing precisely the right number +of seconds to elapse, then altering and lowering his voice, +added: + +"I respect the Governor's principles. I admire them. They do +him every degree of credit." Then, turning directly to Magnus, +he concluded with, "But I only want you to ask yourself, sir, if, +at such a crisis, one ought to think of oneself, to consider +purely personal motives in such a desperate situation as this? +Now, we want you with us, Governor; perhaps not openly, if you +don't wish it, but tacitly, at least. I won't ask you for an +answer to-night, but what I do ask of you is to consider this +matter seriously and think over the whole business. Will you do +it?" + +Osterman ceased definitely to speak, leaning forward across the +table, his eves fixed on Magnus's face. There was a silence. +Outside, the rain fell continually with an even, monotonous +murmur. In the group of men around the table no one stirred nor +spoke. They looked steadily at Magnus, who, for the moment, kept +his glance fixed thoughtfully upon the table before him. In +another moment he raised his head and looked from face to face +around the group. After all, these were his neighbours, his +friends, men with whom he had been upon the closest terms of +association. In a way they represented what now had come to be +his world. His single swift glance took in the men, one after +another. Annixter, rugged, crude, sitting awkwardly and +uncomfortably in his chair, his unhandsome face, with its +outthrust lower lip and deeply cleft masculine chin, flushed and +eager, his yellow hair disordered, the one tuft on the crown +standing stiffly forth like the feather in an Indian's scalp +lock; Broderson, vaguely combing at his long beard with a +persistent maniacal gesture, distressed, troubled and uneasy; +Osterman, with his comedy face, the face of a music-hall singer, +his head bald and set off by his great red ears, leaning back in +his place, softly cracking the knuckle of a forefinger, and, last +of all and close to his elbow, his son, his support, his +confidant and companion, Harran, so like himself, with his own +erect, fine carriage, his thin, beak-like nose and his blond +hair, with its tendency to curl in a forward direction in front +of the ears, young, strong, courageous, full of the promise of +the future years. His blue eyes looked straight into his +father's with what Magnus could fancy a glance of appeal. Magnus +could see that expression in the faces of the others very +plainly. They looked to him as their natural leader, their chief +who was to bring them out from this abominable trouble which was +closing in upon them, and in them all he saw many types. They-- +these men around his table on that night of the first rain of a +coming season--seemed to stand in his imagination for many +others--all the farmers, ranchers, and wheat growers of the great +San Joaquin. Their words were the words of a whole community; +their distress, the distress of an entire State, harried beyond +the bounds of endurance, driven to the wall, coerced, exploited, +harassed to the limits of exasperation. +"I will think of it," he said, then hastened to add, "but I can +tell you beforehand that you may expect only a refusal." + +After Magnus had spoken, there was a prolonged silence. The +conference seemed of itself to have come to an end for that +evening. Presley lighted another cigarette from the butt of the +one he had been smoking, and the cat, Princess Nathalie, +disturbed by his movement and by a whiff of drifting smoke, +jumped from his knee to the floor and picking her way across the +room to Annixter, rubbed gently against his legs, her tail in the +air, her back delicately arched. No doubt she thought it time to +settle herself for the night, and as Annixter gave no indication +of vacating his chair, she chose this way of cajoling him into +ceding his place to her. But Annixter was irritated at the +Princess's attentions, misunderstanding their motive. + +"Get out!" he exclaimed, lifting his feet to the rung of the +chair. "Lord love me, but I sure do hate a cat." + +"By the way," observed Osterman, "I passed Genslinger by the gate +as I came in to-night. Had he been here?" + +"Yes, he was here," said Harran, "and--" but Annixter took the +words out of his mouth. + +"He says there's some talk of the railroad selling us their +sections this winter." + +"Oh, he did, did he?" exclaimed Osterman, interested at once. +"Where did he hear that?" + +"Where does a railroad paper get its news? From the General +Office, I suppose." + +"I hope he didn't get it straight from headquarters that the land +was to be graded at twenty dollars an acre," murmured Broderson. + +"What's that?" demanded Osterman. "Twenty dollars! Here, put me +on, somebody. What's all up? What did Genslinger say?" + +"Oh, you needn't get scared," said Annixter. "Genslinger don't +know, that's all. He thinks there was no understanding that the +price of the land should not be advanced when the P. and S. W. +came to sell to us." + +"Oh," muttered Osterman relieved. Magnus, who had gone out into +the office on the other side of the glass-roofed hallway, +returned with a long, yellow envelope in his hand, stuffed with +newspaper clippings and thin, closely printed pamphlets. + +"Here is the circular," he remarked, drawing out one of the +pamphlets. "The conditions of settlement to which the railroad +obligated itself are very explicit." + +He ran over the pages of the circular, then read aloud: + +"'The Company invites settlers to go upon its lands before +patents are issued or the road is completed, and intends in such +cases to sell to them in preference to any other applicants and +at a price based upon the value of the land without +improvements,' and on the other page here," he remarked, "they +refer to this again. 'In ascertaining the value of the lands, +any improvements that a settler or any other person may have on +the lands will not be taken into consideration, neither will the +price be increased in consequence thereof.... Settlers are thus +insured that in addition to being accorded the first privilege of +purchase, at the graded price, they will also be protected in +their improvements.' And here," he commented, "in Section IX. it +reads, 'The lands are not uniform in price, but are offered at +various figures from $2.50 upward per acre. Usually land covered +with tall timber is held at $5.00 per acre, and that with pine at +$10.00. Most is for sale at $2.50 and $5.00." + +"When you come to read that carefully," hazarded old Broderson, +"it--it's not so VERY REASSURING. 'MOST is for sale at two-fifty +an acre,' it says. That don't mean 'ALL,' that only means SOME. +I wish now that I had secured a more iron-clad agreement from the +P. and S. W. when I took up its sections on my ranch, and--and +Genslinger is in a position to know the intentions of the +railroad. At least, he--he--he is in TOUCH with them. All +newspaper men are. Those, I mean, who are subsidised by the +General Office. But, perhaps, Genslinger isn't subsidised, I +don't know. I--I am not sure. Maybe--perhaps" + +"Oh, you don't know and you do know, and maybe and perhaps, and +you're not so sure," vociferated Annixter. "How about ignoring +the value of our improvements? Nothing hazy about THAT +statement, I guess. It says in so many words that any +improvements we make will not be considered when the land is +appraised and that's the same thing, isn't it? The unimproved +land is worth two-fifty an acre; only timber land is worth more +and there's none too much timber about here." + +"Well, one thing at a time," said Harran. "The thing for us now +is to get into this primary election and the convention and see +if we can push our men for Railroad Commissioners." + +"Right," declared Annixter. He rose, stretching his arms above +his head. "I've about talked all the wind out of me," he said. +"Think I'll be moving along. It's pretty near midnight." + +But when Magnus's guests turned their attention to the matter of +returning to their different ranches, they abruptly realised that +the downpour had doubled and trebled in its volume since earlier +in the evening. The fields and roads were veritable seas of +viscid mud, the night absolutely black-dark; assuredly not a +night in which to venture out. Magnus insisted that the three +ranchers should put up at Los Muertos. Osterman accepted at +once, Annixter, after an interminable discussion, allowed himself +to be persuaded, in the end accepting as though granting a +favour. Broderson protested that his wife, who was not well, +would expect him to return that night and would, no doubt, fret +if he did not appear. Furthermore, he lived close by, at the +junction of the County and Lower Road. He put a sack over his +head and shoulders, persistently declining Magnus's offered +umbrella and rubber coat, and hurried away, remarking that he had +no foreman on his ranch and had to be up and about at five the +next morning to put his men to work. + +"Fool!" muttered Annixter when the old man had gone. "Imagine +farming a ranch the size of his without a foreman." + +Harran showed Osterman and Annixter where they were to sleep, in +adjoining rooms. Magnus soon afterward retired. + +Osterman found an excuse for going to bed, but Annixter and +Harran remained in the latter's room, in a haze of blue tobacco +smoke, talking, talking. But at length, at the end of all +argument, Annixter got up, remarking: + +"Well, I'm going to turn in. It's nearly two o'clock." + +He went to his room, closing the door, and Harran, opening his +window to clear out the tobacco smoke, looked out for a moment +across the country toward the south. + +The darkness was profound, impenetrable; the rain fell with an +uninterrupted roar. Near at hand one could hear the sound of +dripping eaves and foliage and the eager, sucking sound of the +drinking earth, and abruptly while Harran stood looking out, one +hand upon the upraised sash, a great puff of the outside air +invaded the room, odourous with the reek of the soaking earth, +redolent with fertility, pungent, heavy, tepid. He closed the +window again and sat for a few moments on the edge of the bed, +one shoe in his hand, thoughtful and absorbed, wondering if his +father would involve himself in this new scheme, wondering if, +after all, he wanted him to. + +But suddenly he was aware of a commotion, issuing from the +direction of Annixter's room, and the voice of Annixter himself +upraised in expostulation and exasperation. The door of the room +to which Annixter had been assigned opened with a violent wrench +and an angry voice exclaimed to anybody who would listen: + +"Oh, yes, funny, isn't it? In a way, it's funny, and then, +again, in a way it isn't." + +The door banged to so that all the windows of the house rattled +in their frames. + +Harran hurried out into the dining-room and there met Presley and +his father, who had been aroused as well by Annixter's clamour. +Osterman was there, too, his bald head gleaming like a bulb of +ivory in the light of the lamp that Magnus carried. + +"What's all up?" demanded Osterman. "Whatever in the world is +the matter with Buck?" + +Confused and terrible sounds came from behind the door of +Annixter's room. A prolonged monologue of grievance, broken by +explosions of wrath and the vague noise of some one in a furious +hurry. All at once and before Harran had a chance to knock on +the door, Annixter flung it open. His face was blazing with +anger, his outthrust lip more prominent than ever, his wiry, +yellow hair in disarray, the tuft on the crown sticking straight +into the air like the upraised hackles of an angry hound. +Evidently he had been dressing himself with the most headlong +rapidity; he had not yet put on his coat and vest, but carried +them over his arm, while with his disengaged hand he kept +hitching his suspenders over his shoulders with a persistent and +hypnotic gesture. Without a moment's pause he gave vent to his +indignation in a torrent of words. + +"Ah, yes, in my bed, sloop, aha! I know the man who put it +there," he went on, glaring at Osterman, "and that man is a PIP. +Sloop! Slimy, disgusting stuff; you heard me say I didn't like +it when the Chink passed it to me at dinner--and just for that +reason you put it in my bed, and I stick my feet into it when I +turn in. Funny, isn't it? Oh, yes, too funny for any use. I'd +laugh a little louder if I was you." + +"Well, Buck," protested Harran, as he noticed the hat in +Annixter's hand, "you're not going home just for----" + +Annixter turned on him with a shout. + +"I'll get plumb out of here," he trumpeted. "I won't stay here +another minute." + +He swung into his waistcoat and coat, scrabbling at the buttons +in the violence of his emotions. "And I don't know but what it +will make me sick again to go out in a night like this. NO, I +won't stay. Some things are funny, and then, again, there are +some things that are not. Ah, yes, sloop! Well, that's all +right. I can be funny, too, when you come to that. You don't +get a cent of money out of me. You can do your dirty bribery in +your own dirty way. I won't come into this scheme at all. I +wash my hands of the whole business. It's rotten and it's wild- +eyed; it's dirt from start to finish; and you'll all land in +State's prison. You can count me out." + +"But, Buck, look here, you crazy fool," cried Harran, "I don't +know who put that stuff in your bed, but I'm not going; to let +you go back to Quien Sabe in a rain like this." + +"I know who put it in," clamoured the other, shaking his fists, +"and don't call me Buck and I'll do as I please. I WILL go back +home. I'll get plumb out of here. Sorry I came. Sorry I ever +lent myself to such a disgusting, dishonest, dirty bribery game +as this all to-night. I won't put a dime into it, no, not a +penny." + +He stormed to the door leading out upon the porch, deaf to all +reason. Harran and Presley followed him, trying to dissuade him +from going home at that time of night and in such a storm, but +Annixter was not to be placated. He stamped across to the barn +where his horse and buggy had been stabled, splashing through the +puddles under foot, going out of his way to drench himself, +refusing even to allow Presley and Harran to help him harness the +horse. + +"What's the use of making a fool of yourself, Annixter?" +remonstrated Presley, as Annixter backed the horse from the +stall. "You act just like a ten-year-old boy. If Osterman wants +to play the goat, why should you help him out?" + +"He's a PIP," vociferated Annixter. "You don't understand, +Presley. It runs in my family to hate anything sticky. It's-- +it's--it's heredity. How would you like to get into bed at two +in the morning and jam your feet down into a slimy mess like +that? Oh, no. It's not so funny then. And you mark my words, +Mr. Harran Derrick," he continued, as he climbed into the buggy, +shaking the whip toward Harran, "this business we talked over to- +night--I'm OUT of it. It's yellow. It's too CURSED dishonest." + +He cut the horse across the back with the whip and drove out into +the pelting rain. In a few seconds the sound of his buggy wheels +was lost in the muffled roar of the downpour. + +Harran and Presley closed the barn and returned to the house, +sheltering themselves under a tarpaulin carriage cover. Once +inside, Harran went to remonstrate with Osterman, who was still +up. Magnus had again retired. The house had fallen quiet again. + +As Presley crossed the dining-room on the way to his own +apartment in the second story of the house, he paused for a +moment, looking about him. In the dull light of the lowered +lamps, the redwood panelling of the room showed a dark crimson as +though stained with blood. On the massive slab of the dining +table the half-emptied glasses and bottles stood about in the +confusion in which they had been left, reflecting themselves deep +into the polished wood; the glass doors of the case of stuffed +birds was a subdued shimmer; the many-coloured Navajo blanket +over the couch seemed a mere patch of brown. + +Around the table the chairs in which the men had sat throughout +the evening still ranged themselves in a semi-circle, vaguely +suggestive of the conference of the past few hours, with all its +possibilities of good and evil, its significance of a future big +with portent. The room was still. Only on the cushions of the +chair that Annixter had occupied, the cat, Princess Nathalie, at +last comfortably settled in her accustomed place, dozed +complacently, her paws tucked under her breast, filling the +deserted room with the subdued murmur of her contented purr. + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +On the Quien Sabe ranch, in one of its western divisions, near +the line fence that divided it from the Osterman holding, Vanamee +was harnessing the horses to the plough to which he had been +assigned two days before, a stable-boy from the division barn +helping him. + +Promptly discharged from the employ of the sheep-raisers after +the lamentable accident near the Long Trestle, Vanamee had +presented himself to Harran, asking for employment. The season +was beginning; on all the ranches work was being resumed. The +rain had put the ground into admirable condition for ploughing, +and Annixter, Broderson, and Osterman all had their gangs at +work. Thus, Vanamee was vastly surprised to find Los Muertos +idle, the horses still in the barns, the men gathering in the +shade of the bunk-house and eating-house, smoking, dozing, or +going aimlessly about, their arms dangling. The ploughs for +which Magnus and Harran were waiting in a fury of impatience had +not yet arrived, and since the management of Los Muertos had +counted upon having these in hand long before this time, no +provision had been made for keeping the old stock in repair; many +of these old ploughs were useless, broken, and out of order; some +had been sold. It could not be said definitely when the new +ploughs would arrive. Harran had decided to wait one week +longer, and then, in case of their non-appearance, to buy a +consignment of the old style of plough from the dealers in +Bonneville. He could afford to lose the money better than he +could afford to lose the season. + +Failing of work on Los Muertos, Vanamee had gone to Quien Sabe. +Annixter, whom he had spoken to first, had sent him across the +ranch to one of his division superintendents, and this latter, +after assuring himself of Vanamee's familiarity with horses and +his previous experience--even though somewhat remote--on Los +Muertos, had taken him on as a driver of one of the gang ploughs, +then at work on his division. + +The evening before, when the foreman had blown his whistle at six +o'clock, the long line of ploughs had halted upon the instant, +and the drivers, unharnessing their teams, had taken them back to +the division barns--leaving the ploughs as they were in the +furrows. But an hour after daylight the next morning the work +was resumed. After breakfast, Vanamee, riding one horse and +leading the others, had returned to the line of ploughs together +with the other drivers. Now he was busy harnessing the team. At +the division blacksmith shop--temporarily put up--he had been +obliged to wait while one of his lead horses was shod, and he had +thus been delayed quite five minutes. Nearly all the other teams +were harnessed, the drivers on their seats, waiting for the +foreman's signal. + +"All ready here?" inquired the foreman, driving up to Vanamee's +team in his buggy. + +"All ready, sir," answered Vanamee, buckling the last strap. + +He climbed to his seat, shaking out the reins, and turning about, +looked back along the line, then all around him at the landscape +inundated with the brilliant glow of the early morning. + +The day was fine. Since the first rain of the season, there had +been no other. Now the sky was without a cloud, pale blue, +delicate, luminous, scintillating with morning. The great brown +earth turned a huge flank to it, exhaling the moisture of the +early dew. The atmosphere, washed clean of dust and mist, was +translucent as crystal. Far off to the east, the hills on the +other side of Broderson Creek stood out against the pallid +saffron of the horizon as flat and as sharply outlined as if +pasted on the sky. The campanile of the ancient Mission of San +Juan seemed as fine as frost work. All about between the +horizons, the carpet of the land unrolled itself to infinity. +But now it was no longer parched with heat, cracked and warped by +a merciless sun, powdered with dust. The rain had done its work; +not a clod that was not swollen with fertility, not a fissure +that did not exhale the sense of fecundity. One could not take a +dozen steps upon the ranches without the brusque sensation that +underfoot the land was alive; roused at last from its sleep, +palpitating with the desire of reproduction. Deep down there in +the recesses of the soil, the great heart throbbed once more, +thrilling with passion, vibrating with desire, offering itself to +the caress of the plough, insistent, eager, imperious. Dimly one +felt the deep-seated trouble of the earth, the uneasy agitation +of its members, the hidden tumult of its womb, demanding to be +made fruitful, to reproduce, to disengage the eternal renascent +germ of Life that stirred and struggled in its loins. + +The ploughs, thirty-five in number, each drawn by its team of +ten, stretched in an interminable line, nearly a quarter of a +mile in length, behind and ahead of Vanamee. They were arranged, +as it were, en echelon, not in file--not one directly behind the +other, but each succeeding plough its own width farther in the +field than the one in front of it. Each of these ploughs held +five shears, so that when the entire company was in motion, one +hundred and seventy-five furrows were made at the same instant. +At a distance, the ploughs resembled a great column of field +artillery. Each driver was in his place, his glance alternating +between his horses and the foreman nearest at hand. Other +foremen, in their buggies or buckboards, were at intervals along +the line, like battery lieutenants. Annixter himself, on +horseback, in boots and campaign hat, a cigar in his teeth, +overlooked the scene. + +The division superintendent, on the opposite side of the line, +galloped past to a position at the head. For a long moment there +was a silence. A sense of preparedness ran from end to end of +the column. All things were ready, each man in his place. The +day's work was about to begin. + +Suddenly, from a distance at the head of the line came the shrill +trilling of a whistle. At once the foreman nearest Vanamee +repeated it, at the same time turning down the line, and waving +one arm. The signal was repeated, whistle answering whistle, +till the sounds lost themselves in the distance. At once the +line of ploughs lost its immobility, moving forward, getting +slowly under way, the horses straining in the traces. A +prolonged movement rippled from team to team, disengaging in its +passage a multitude of sounds---the click of buckles, the creak +of straining leather, the subdued clash of machinery, the +cracking of whips, the deep breathing of nearly four hundred +horses, the abrupt commands and cries of the drivers, and, last +of all, the prolonged, soothing murmur of the thick brown earth +turning steadily from the multitude of advancing shears. + +The ploughing thus commenced, continued. The sun rose higher. +Steadily the hundred iron hands kneaded and furrowed and stroked +the brown, humid earth, the hundred iron teeth bit deep into the +Titan's flesh. Perched on his seat, the moist living reins +slipping and tugging in his hands, Vanamee, in the midst of this +steady confusion of constantly varying sensation, sight +interrupted by sound, sound mingling with sight, on this swaying, +vibrating seat, quivering with the prolonged thrill of the earth, +lapsed to a sort of pleasing numbness, in a sense, hypnotised by +the weaving maze of things in which he found himself involved. +To keep his team at an even, regular gait, maintaining the +precise interval, to run his furrows as closely as possible to +those already made by the plough in front--this for the moment +was the entire sum of his duties. But while one part of his +brain, alert and watchful, took cognisance of these matters, all +the greater part was lulled and stupefied with the long monotony +of the affair. + +The ploughing, now in full swing, enveloped him in a vague, slow- +moving whirl of things. Underneath him was the jarring, jolting, +trembling machine; not a clod was turned, not an obstacle +encountered, that he did not receive the swift impression of it +through all his body, the very friction of the damp soil, sliding +incessantly from the shiny surface of the shears, seemed to +reproduce itself in his finger-tips and along the back of his +head. He heard the horse-hoofs by the myriads crushing down +easily, deeply, into the loam, the prolonged clinking of trace- +chains, the working of the smooth brown flanks in the harness, +the clatter of wooden hames, the champing of bits, the click of +iron shoes against pebbles, the brittle stubble of the surface +ground crackling and snapping as the furrows turned, the +sonorous, steady breaths wrenched from the deep, labouring +chests, strap-bound, shining with sweat, and all along the line +the voices of the men talking to the horses. Everywhere there +were visions of glossy brown backs, straining, heaving, swollen +with muscle; harness streaked with specks of froth, broad, cup- +shaped hoofs, heavy with brown loam, men's faces red with tan, +blue overalls spotted with axle-grease; muscled hands, the +knuckles whitened in their grip on the reins, and through it all +the ammoniacal smell of the horses, the bitter reek of +perspiration of beasts and men, the aroma of warm leather, the +scent of dead stubble--and stronger and more penetrating than +everything else, the heavy, enervating odour of the upturned, +living earth. + +At intervals, from the tops of one of the rare, low swells of the +land, Vanamee overlooked a wider horizon. On the other divisions +of Quien Sabe the same work was in progress. Occasionally he +could see another column of ploughs in the adjoining division-- +sometimes so close at hand that the subdued murmur of its +movements reached his ear; sometimes so distant that it resolved +itself into a long, brown streak upon the grey of the ground. +Farther off to the west on the Osterman ranch other columns came +and went, and, once, from the crest of the highest swell on his +division, Vanamee caught a distant glimpse of the Broderson +ranch. There, too, moving specks indicated that the ploughing +was under way. And farther away still, far off there beyond the +fine line of the horizons, over the curve of the globe, the +shoulder of the earth, he knew were other ranches, and beyond +these others, and beyond these still others, the immensities +multiplying to infinity. + +Everywhere throughout the great San Joaquin, unseen and unheard, +a thousand ploughs up-stirred the land, tens of thousands of +shears clutched deep into the warm, moist soil. + +It was the long stroking caress, vigorous, male, powerful, for +which the Earth seemed panting. The heroic embrace of a +multitude of iron hands, gripping deep into the brown, warm flesh +of the land that quivered responsive and passionate under this +rude advance, so robust as to be almost an assault, so violent as +to be veritably brutal. There, under the sun and under the +speckless sheen of the sky, the wooing of the Titan began, the +vast primal passion, the two world-forces, the elemental Male and +Female, locked in a colossal embrace, at grapples in the throes +of an infinite desire, at once terrible and divine, knowing no +law, untamed, savage, natural, sublime. + +From time to time the gang in which Vanamee worked halted on the +signal from foreman or overseer. The horses came to a +standstill, the vague clamour of the work lapsed away. Then the +minutes passed. The whole work hung suspended. All up and down +the line one demanded what had happened. The division +superintendent galloped past, perplexed and anxious. For the +moment, one of the ploughs was out of order, a bolt had slipped, +a lever refused to work, or a machine had become immobilised in +heavy ground, or a horse had lamed himself. Once, even, toward +noon, an entire plough was taken out of the line, so out of gear +that a messenger had to be sent to the division forge to summon +the machinist. + +Annixter had disappeared. He had ridden farther on to the other +divisions of his ranch, to watch the work in progress there. At +twelve o'clock, according to his orders, all the division +superintendents put themselves in communication with him by means +of the telephone wires that connected each of the division +houses, reporting the condition of the work, the number of acres +covered, the prospects of each plough traversing its daily +average of twenty miles. + +At half-past twelve, Vanamee and the rest of the drivers ate +their lunch in the field, the tin buckets having been distributed +to them that morning after breakfast. But in the evening, the +routine of the previous day was repeated, and Vanamee, +unharnessing his team, riding one horse and leading the others, +returned to the division barns and bunk-house. + +It was between six and seven o'clock. The half hundred men of +the gang threw themselves upon the supper the Chinese cooks had +set out in the shed of the eating-house, long as a bowling alley, +unpainted, crude, the seats benches, the table covered with oil +cloth. Overhead a half-dozen kerosene lamps flared and smoked. + +The table was taken as if by assault; the clatter of iron knives +upon the tin plates was as the reverberation of hail upon a metal +roof. The ploughmen rinsed their throats with great draughts of +wine, and, their elbows wide, their foreheads flushed, resumed +the attack upon the beef and bread, eating as though they would +never have enough. All up and down the long table, where the +kerosene lamps reflected themselves deep in the oil-cloth cover, +one heard the incessant sounds of mastication, and saw the +uninterrupted movement of great jaws. At every moment one or +another of the men demanded a fresh portion of beef, another pint +of wine, another half-loaf of bread. For upwards of an hour the +gang ate. It was no longer a supper. It was a veritable +barbecue, a crude and primitive feasting, barbaric, homeric. + +But in all this scene Vanamee saw nothing repulsive. Presley +would have abhorred it--this feeding of the People, this gorging +of the human animal, eager for its meat. Vanamee, simple, +uncomplicated, living so close to nature and the rudimentary +life, understood its significance. He knew very well that within +a short half-hour after this meal the men would throw themselves +down in their bunks to sleep without moving, inert and stupefied +with fatigue, till the morning. Work, food, and sleep, all life +reduced to its bare essentials, uncomplex, honest, healthy. They +were strong, these men, with the strength of the soil they +worked, in touch with the essential things, back again to the +starting point of civilisation, coarse, vital, real, and sane. + +For a brief moment immediately after the meal, pipes were lit, +and the air grew thick with fragrant tobacco smoke. On a corner +of the dining-room table, a game of poker was begun. One of the +drivers, a Swede, produced an accordion; a group on the steps of +the bunk-house listened, with alternate gravity and shouts of +laughter, to the acknowledged story-teller of the gang. But soon +the men began to turn in, stretching themselves at full length on +the horse blankets in the racklike bunks. The sounds of heavy +breathing increased steadily, lights were put out, and before the +afterglow had faded from the sky, the gang was asleep. + +Vanamee, however, remained awake. The night was fine, warm; the +sky silver-grey with starlight. By and by there would be a moon. +In the first watch after the twilight, a faint puff of breeze +came up out of the south. From all around, the heavy penetrating +smell of the new-turned earth exhaled steadily into the darkness. +After a while, when the moon came up, he could see the vast brown +breast of the earth turn toward it. Far off, distant objects +came into view: The giant oak tree at Hooven's ranch house near +the irrigating ditch on Los Muertos, the skeleton-like tower of +the windmill on Annixter's Home ranch, the clump of willows along +Broderson Creek close to the Long Trestle, and, last of all, the +venerable tower of the Mission of San Juan on the high ground +beyond the creek. + +Thitherward, like homing pigeons, Vanamee's thoughts turned +irresistibly. Near to that tower, just beyond, in the little +hollow, hidden now from his sight, was the Seed ranch where +Angele Varian had lived. Straining his eyes, peering across the +intervening levels, Vanamee fancied he could almost see the line +of venerable pear trees in whose shadow she had been accustomed +to wait for him. On many such a night as this he had crossed the +ranches to find her there. His mind went back to that wonderful +time of his life sixteen years before this, when Angele was +alive, when they two were involved in the sweet intricacies of a +love so fine, so pure, so marvellous that it seemed to them a +miracle, a manifestation, a thing veritably divine, put into the +life of them and the hearts of them by God Himself. To that they +had been born. For this love's sake they had come into the +world, and the mingling of their lives was to be the Perfect +Life, the intended, ordained union of the soul of man with the +soul of woman, indissoluble, harmonious as music, beautiful +beyond all thought, a foretaste of Heaven, a hostage of +immortality. + +No, he, Vanamee, could never, never forget, never was the edge of +his grief to lose its sharpness, never would the lapse of time +blunt the tooth of his pain. Once more, as he sat there, looking +off across the ranches, his eyes fixed on the ancient campanile +of the Mission church, the anguish that would not die leaped at +his throat, tearing at his heart, shaking him and rending him +with a violence as fierce and as profound as if it all had been +but yesterday. The ache returned to his heart a physical keen +pain; his hands gripped tight together, twisting, interlocked, +his eyes filled with tears, his whole body shaken and riven from +head to heel. + +He had lost her. God had not meant it, after all. The whole +matter had been a mistake. That vast, wonderful love that had +come upon them had been only the flimsiest mockery. Abruptly +Vanamee rose. He knew the night that was before him. At +intervals throughout the course of his prolonged wanderings, in +the desert, on the mesa, deep in the canon, lost and forgotten on +the flanks of unnamed mountains, alone under the stars and under +the moon's white eye, these hours came to him, his grief +recoiling upon him like the recoil of a vast and terrible engine. +Then he must fight out the night, wrestling with his sorrow, +praying sometimes, incoherent, hardly conscious, asking "Why" of +the night and of the stars. + +Such another night had come to him now. Until dawn he knew he +must struggle with his grief, torn with memories, his imagination +assaulted with visions of a vanished happiness. If this paroxysm +of sorrow was to assail him again that night, there was but one +place for him to be. He would go to the Mission--he would see +Father Sarria; he would pass the night in the deep shadow of the +aged pear trees in the Mission garden. + +He struck out across Quien Sabe, his face, the face of an +ascetic, lean, brown, infinitely sad, set toward the Mission +church. In about an hour he reached and crossed the road that +led northward from Guadalajara toward the Seed ranch, and, a +little farther on, forded Broderson Creek where it ran through +one corner of the Mission land. He climbed the hill and halted, +out of breath from his brisk wall, at the end of the colonnade of +the Mission itself. + +Until this moment Vanamee had not trusted himself to see the +Mission at night. On the occasion of his first daytime visit +with Presley, he had hurried away even before the twilight had +set in, not daring for the moment to face the crowding phantoms +that in his imagination filled the Mission garden after dark. In +the daylight, the place had seemed strange to him. None of his +associations with the old building and its surroundings were +those of sunlight and brightness. Whenever, during his long +sojourns in the wilderness of the Southwest, he had called up the +picture in the eye of his mind, it had always appeared to him in +the dim mystery of moonless nights, the venerable pear trees +black with shadow, the fountain a thing to be heard rather than +seen. + +But as yet he had not entered the garden. That lay on the other +side of the Mission. Vanamee passed down the colonnade, with its +uneven pavement of worn red bricks, to the last door by the +belfry tower, and rang the little bell by pulling the leather +thong that hung from a hole in the door above the knob. + +But the maid-servant, who, after a long interval opened the door, +blinking and confused at being roused from her sleep, told +Vanamee that Sarria was not in his room. Vanamee, however, was +known to her as the priest's protege and great friend, and she +allowed him to enter, telling him that, no doubt, he would find +Sarria in the church itself. The servant led the way down the +cool adobe passage to a larger room that occupied the entire +width of the bottom of the belfry tower, and whence a flight of +aged steps led upward into the dark. At the foot of the stairs +was a door opening into the church. The servant admitted +Vanamee, closing the door behind her. + +The interior of the Mission, a great oblong of white-washed adobe +with a flat ceiling, was lighted dimly by the sanctuary lamp that +hung from three long chains just over the chancel rail at the far +end of the church, and by two or three cheap kerosene lamps in +brackets of imitation bronze. All around the walls was the +inevitable series of pictures representing the Stations of the +Cross. They were of a hideous crudity of design and composition, +yet were wrought out with an innocent, unquestioning sincerity +that was not without its charm. Each picture framed alike in +gilt, bore its suitable inscription in staring black letters. +"Simon, The Cyrenean, Helps Jesus to Carry His Cross." "Saint +Veronica Wipes the Face of Jesus." "Jesus Falls for the Fourth +Time," and so on. Half-way up the length of the church the pews +began, coffin-like boxes of blackened oak, shining from years of +friction, each with its door; while over them, and built out from +the wall, was the pulpit, with its tarnished gilt sounding-board +above it, like the raised cover of a great hat-box. Between the +pews, in the aisle, the violent vermilion of a strip of ingrain +carpet assaulted the eye. Farther on were the steps to the +altar, the chancel rail of worm-riddled oak, the high altar, with +its napery from the bargain counters of a San Francisco store, +the massive silver candlesticks, each as much as one man could +lift, the gift of a dead Spanish queen, and, last, the pictures +of the chancel, the Virgin in a glory, a Christ in agony on the +cross, and St. John the Baptist, the patron saint of the Mission, +the San Juan Bautista, of the early days, a gaunt grey figure, in +skins, two fingers upraised in the gesture of benediction. + +The air of the place was cool and damp, and heavy with the flat, +sweet scent of stale incense smoke. It was of a vault-like +stillness, and the closing of the door behind Vanamee reechoed +from corner to corner with a prolonged reverberation of thunder. + +However, Father Sarria was not in the church. Vanamee took a +couple of turns the length of the aisle, looking about into the +chapels on either side of the chancel. But the building was +deserted. The priest had been there recently, nevertheless, for +the altar furniture was in disarray, as though he had been +rearranging it but a moment before. On both sides of the church +and half-way up their length, the walls were pierced by low +archways, in which were massive wooden doors, clamped with iron +bolts. One of these doors, on the pulpit side of the church, +stood ajar, and stepping to it and pushing it wide open, Vanamee +looked diagonally across a little patch of vegetables--beets, +radishes, and lettuce--to the rear of the building that had once +contained the cloisters, and through an open window saw Father +Sarria diligently polishing the silver crucifix that usually +stood on the high altar. Vanamee did not call to the priest. +Putting a finger to either temple, he fixed his eyes steadily +upon him for a moment as he moved about at his work. In a few +seconds he closed his eyes, but only part way. The pupils +contracted; his forehead lowered to an expression of poignant +intensity. Soon afterward he saw the priest pause abruptly in +the act of drawing the cover over the crucifix, looking about him +from side to side. He turned again to his work, and again came +to a stop, perplexed, curious. With uncertain steps, and +evidently wondering why he did so, he came to the door of the +room and opened it, looking out into the night. Vanamee, hidden +in the deep shadow of the archway, did not move, but his eyes +closed, and the intense expression deepened on his face. The +priest hesitated, moved forward a step, turned back, paused +again, then came straight across the garden patch, brusquely +colliding with Vanamee, still motionless in the recess of the +archway. + +Sarria gave a great start, catching his breath. + +"Oh--oh, it's you. Was it you I heard calling? No, I could not +have heard--I remember now. What a strange power! I am not sure +that it is right to do this thing, Vanamee. I--I HAD to come. I +do not know why. It is a great force--a power--I don't like it. +Vanamee, sometimes it frightens me." + +Vanamee put his chin in the air. + +"If I had wanted to, sir, I could have made you come to me from +back there in the Quien Sabe ranch." + +The priest shook his head. + +"It troubles me," he said, "to think that my own will can count +for so little. Just now I could not resist. If a deep river had +been between us, I must have crossed it. Suppose I had been +asleep now?" +"It would have been all the easier," answered Vanamee. "I +understand as little of these things as you. But I think if you +had been asleep, your power of resistance would have been so much +the more weakened." + +"Perhaps I should not have waked. Perhaps I should have come to +you in my sleep." + +"Perhaps." + +Sarria crossed himself. "It is occult," he hazarded. "No; I do +not like it. Dear fellow," he put his hand on Vanamee's +shoulder, "don't--call me that way again; promise. See," he held +out his hand, "I am all of a tremble. There, we won't speak of +it further. Wait for me a moment. I have only to put the cross +in its place, and a fresh altar cloth, and then I am done. To- +morrow is the feast of The Holy Cross, and I am preparing against +it. The night is fine. We will smoke a cigar in the cloister +garden." + +A few moments later the two passed out of the door on the other +side of the church, opposite the pulpit, Sarria adjusting a silk +skull cap on his tonsured head. He wore his cassock now, and was +far more the churchman in appearance than when Vanamee and +Presley had seen him on a former occasion. + +They were now in the cloister garden. The place was charming. +Everywhere grew clumps of palms and magnolia trees. A grapevine, +over a century old, occupied a trellis in one angle of the walls +which surrounded the garden on two sides. Along the third side +was the church itself, while the fourth was open, the wall having +crumbled away, its site marked only by a line of eight great pear +trees, older even than the grapevine, gnarled, twisted, bearing +no fruit. Directly opposite the pear trees, in the south wall of +the garden, was a round, arched portal, whose gate giving upon +the esplanade in front of the Mission was always closed. Small +gravelled walks, well kept, bordered with mignonette, twisted +about among the flower beds, and underneath the magnolia trees. +In the centre was a little fountain in a stone basin green with +moss, while just beyond, between the fountain and the pear trees, +stood what was left of a sun dial, the bronze gnomon, green with +the beatings of the weather, the figures on the half-circle of +the dial worn away, illegible. + +But on the other side of the fountain, and directly opposite the +door of the Mission, ranged against the wall, were nine graves-- +three with headstones, the rest with slabs. Two of Sarria's +predecessors were buried here; three of the graves were those of +Mission Indians. One was thought to contain a former alcalde of +Guadalajara; two more held the bodies of De La Cuesta and his +young wife (taking with her to the grave the illusion of her +husband's love), and the last one, the ninth, at the end of the +line, nearest the pear trees, was marked by a little headstone, +the smallest of any, on which, together with the proper dates-- +only sixteen years apart--was cut the name "Angele Varian." + +But the quiet, the repose, the isolation of the little cloister +garden was infinitely delicious. It was a tiny corner of the +great valley that stretched in all directions around it--shut +off, discreet, romantic, a garden of dreams, of enchantments, of +illusions. Outside there, far off, the great grim world went +clashing through its grooves, but in here never an echo of the +grinding of its wheels entered to jar upon the subdued modulation +of the fountain's uninterrupted murmur. + +Sarria and Vanamee found their way to a stone bench against the +side wall of the Mission, near the door from which they had just +issued, and sat down, Sarria lighting a cigar, Vanamee rolling +and smoking cigarettes in Mexican fashion. + +All about them widened the vast calm night. All the stars were +out. The moon was coming up. There was no wind, no sound. The +insistent flowing of the fountain seemed only as the symbol of +the passing of time, a thing that was understood rather than +heard, inevitable, prolonged. At long intervals, a faint breeze, +hardly more than a breath, found its way into the garden over the +enclosing walls, and passed overhead, spreading everywhere the +delicious, mingled perfume of magnolia blossoms, of mignonette, +of moss, of grass, and all the calm green life silently teeming +within the enclosure of the walls. + +From where he sat, Vanamee, turning his head, could look out +underneath the pear trees to the north. Close at hand, a little +valley lay between the high ground on which the Mission was +built, and the line of low hills just beyond Broderson Creek on +the Quien Sabe. In here was the Seed ranch, which Angele's +people had cultivated, a unique and beautiful stretch of five +hundred acres, planted thick with roses, violets, lilies, tulips, +iris, carnations, tube-roses, poppies, heliotrope--all manner and +description of flowers, five hundred acres of them, solid, thick, +exuberant; blooming and fading, and leaving their seed or slips +to be marketed broadcast all over the United States. This had +been the vocation of Angele's parents--raising flowers for their +seeds. All over the country the Seed ranch was known. Now it +was arid, almost dry, but when in full flower, toward the middle +of summer, the sight of these half-thousand acres royal with +colour--vermilion, azure, flaming yellow--was a marvel. When an +east wind blew, men on the streets of Bonneville, nearly twelve +miles away, could catch the scent of this valley of flowers, this +chaos of perfume. + +And into this life of flowers, this world of colour, this +atmosphere oppressive and clogged and cloyed and thickened with +sweet odour, Angele had been born. There she had lived her +sixteen years. There she had died. It was not surprising that +Vanamee, with his intense, delicate sensitiveness to beauty, his +almost abnormal capacity for great happiness, had been drawn to +her, had loved her so deeply. + +She came to him from out of the flowers, the smell of the roses +in her hair of gold, that hung in two straight plaits on either +side of her face; the reflection of the violets in the profound +dark blue of her eyes, perplexing, heavy-lidded, almond-shaped, +oriental; the aroma and the imperial red of the carnations in her +lips, with their almost Egyptian fulness; the whiteness of the +lilies, the perfume of the lilies, and the lilies' slender +balancing grace in her neck. Her hands disengaged the odour of +the heliotropes. The folds of her dress gave off the enervating +scent of poppies. Her feet were redolent of hyacinths. + +For a long time after sitting down upon the bench, neither the +priest nor Vanamee spoke. But after a while Sarria took his +cigar from his lips, saying: + +"How still it is! This is a beautiful old garden, peaceful, very +quiet. Some day I shall be buried here. I like to remember +that; and you, too, Vanamee." + +"Quien sabe?" + +"Yes, you, too. Where else? No, it is better here, yonder, by +the side of the little girl." + +"I am not able to look forward yet, sir. The things that are to +be are somehow nothing to me at all. For me they amount to +nothing." + +"They amount to everything, my boy." + +"Yes, to one part of me, but not to the part of me that belonged +to Angele--the best part. Oh, you don't know," he exclaimed with +a sudden movement, "no one can understand. What is it to me when +you tell me that sometime after I shall die too, somewhere, in a +vague place you call Heaven, I shall see her again? Do you think +that the idea of that ever made any one's sorrow easier to bear? +Ever took the edge from any one's grief?" + +"But you believe that----" + +"Oh, believe, believe!" echoed the other. "What do I believe? +I don't know. I believe, or I don't believe. I can remember +what she WAS, but I cannot hope what she will be. Hope, after +all, is only memory seen reversed. When I try to see her in +another life--whatever you call it--in Heaven--beyond the grave-- +this vague place of yours; when I try to see her there, she comes +to my imagination only as what she was, material, earthly, as I +loved her. Imperfect, you say; but that is as I saw her, and as +I saw her, I loved her; and as she WAS, material, earthly, +imperfect, she loved me. It's that, that I want," he exclaimed. +"I don't want her changed. I don't want her spiritualised, +exalted, glorified, celestial. I want HER. I think it is only +this feeling that has kept me from killing myself. I would +rather be unhappy in the memory of what she actually was, than be +happy in the realisation of her transformed, changed, made +celestial. I am only human. Her soul! That was beautiful, no +doubt. But, again, it was something very vague, intangible, +hardly more than a phrase. But the touch of her hand was real, +the sound of her voice was real, the clasp of her arms about my +neck was real. Oh," he cried, shaken with a sudden wrench of +passion, "give those back to me. Tell your God to give those +back to me--the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand, the +clasp of her dear arms, REAL, REAL, and then you may talk to me +of Heaven." + +Sarria shook his head. "But when you meet her again," he +observed, "in Heaven, you, too, will be changed. You will see +her spiritualised, with spiritual eyes. As she is now, she does +not appeal to you. I understand that. It is because, as you +say, you are only human, while she is divine. But when you come +to be like her, as she is now, you will know her as she really +is, not as she seemed to be, because her voice was sweet, because +her hair was pretty, because her hand was warm in yours. +Vanamee, your talk is that of a foolish child. You are like one +of the Corinthians to whom Paul wrote. Do you remember? Listen +now. I can recall the words, and such words, beautiful and +terrible at the same time, such a majesty. They march like +soldiers with trumpets. 'But some man will say'--as you have +said just now--'How are the dead raised up? And with what body +do they come? Thou fool! That which thou sowest is not +quickened except it die, and that which thou sowest, thou sowest +not that body that shall be, but bare grain. It may chance of +wheat, or of some other grain. But God giveth it a body as it +hath pleased him, and to every seed his own body.... It is sown a +natural body; it is raised a spiritual body.' It is because you +are a natural body that you cannot understand her, nor wish for +her as a spiritual body, but when you are both spiritual, then +you shall know each other as you are--know as you never knew +before. Your grain of wheat is your symbol of immortality. You +bury it in the earth. It dies, and rises again a thousand times +more beautiful. Vanamee, your dear girl was only a grain of +humanity that we have buried here, and the end is not yet. But +all this is so old, so old. The world learned it a thousand +years ago, and yet each man that has ever stood by the open grave +of any one he loved must learn it all over again from the +beginning." + +Vanamee was silent for a moment, looking off with unseeing eyes +between the trunks of the pear trees, over the little valley. + +"That may all be as you say," he answered after a while. "I have +not learned it yet, in any case. Now, I only know that I love +her--oh, as if it all were yesterday--and that I am suffering, +suffering, always." + +He leaned forward, his head supported on his clenched fists, the +infinite sadness of his face deepening like a shadow, the tears +brimming in his deep-set eyes. A question that he must ask, +which involved the thing that was scarcely to be thought of, +occurred to him at this moment. After hesitating for a long +moment, he said: + +"I have been away a long time, and I have had no news of this +place since I left. Is there anything to tell, Father? Has any +discovery been made, any suspicion developed, as to--the Other?" + +The priest shook his head. + +"Not a word, not a whisper. It is a mystery. It always will +be." + +Vanamee clasped his head between his clenched fists, rocking +himself to and fro. + +"Oh, the terror of it," he murmured. "The horror of it. And +she--think of it, Sarria, only sixteen, a little girl; so +innocent, that she never knew what wrong meant, pure as a little +child is pure, who believed that all things were good; mature +only in her love. And to be struck down like that, while your +God looked down from Heaven and would not take her part." All at +once he seemed to lose control of himself. One of those furies +of impotent grief and wrath that assailed him from time to time, +blind, insensate, incoherent, suddenly took possession of him. A +torrent of words issued from his lips, and he flung out an arm, +the fist clenched, in a fierce, quick gesture, partly of despair, +partly of defiance, partly of supplication. +"No, your God would not take her part. Where was God's mercy in +that? Where was Heaven's protection in that? Where was the +loving kindness you preach about? Why did God give her life if +it was to be stamped out? Why did God give her the power of love +if it was to come to nothing? Sarria, listen to me. Why did God +make her so divinely pure if He permitted that abomination? Ha!" +he exclaimed bitterly, "your God! Why, an Apache buck would have +been more merciful. Your God! There is no God. There is only +the Devil. The Heaven you pray to is only a joke, a wretched +trick, a delusion. It is only Hell that is real." + +Sarria caught him by the arm. + +"You are a fool and a child," he exclaimed, "and it is blasphemy +that you are saying. I forbid it. You understand? I forbid +it." + +Vanamee turned on him with a sudden cry. +"Then, tell your God to give her back to me!" + +Sarria started away from him, his eyes widening in astonishment, +surprised out of all composure by the other's outburst. +Vanamee's swarthy face was pale, the sunken cheeks and deep-set +eyes were marked with great black shadows. The priest no longer +recognised him. The face, that face of the ascetic, lean, framed +in its long black hair and pointed beard, was quivering with the +excitement of hallucination. It was the face of the inspired +shepherds of the Hebraic legends, living close to nature, the +younger prophets of Israel, dwellers in the wilderness, solitary, +imaginative, believing in the Vision, having strange delusions, +gifted with strange powers. In a brief second of thought, Sarria +understood. Out into the wilderness, the vast arid desert of the +Southwest, Vanamee had carried his grief. For days, for weeks, +months even, he had been alone, a solitary speck lost in the +immensity of the horizons; continually he was brooding, haunted +with his sorrow, thinking, thinking, often hard put to it for +food. The body was ill-nourished, and the mind, concentrated +forever upon one subject, had recoiled upon itself, had preyed +upon the naturally nervous temperament, till the imagination had +become exalted, morbidly active, diseased, beset with +hallucinations, forever in search of the manifestation, of the +miracle. It was small wonder that, bringing a fancy so distorted +back to the scene of a vanished happiness, Vanamee should be +racked with the most violent illusions, beset in the throes of a +veritable hysteria. + +"Tell your God to give her back to me," he repeated with fierce +insistence. + +It was the pitch of mysticism, the imagination harassed and +goaded beyond the normal round, suddenly flipping from the +circumference, spinning off at a tangent, out into the void, +where all things seemed possible, hurtling through the dark +there, groping for the supernatural, clamouring for the miracle. +And it was also the human, natural protest against the +inevitable, the irrevocable; the spasm of revolt under the sting +of death, the rebellion of the soul at the victory of the grave. + +"He can give her back to me if He only will," Vanamee cried. +"Sarria, you must help me. I tell you--I warn you, sir, I can't +last much longer under it. My head is all wrong with it--I've no +more hold on my mind. Something must happen or I shall lose my +senses. I am breaking down under it all, my body and my mind +alike. Bring her to me; make God show her to me. If all tales +are true, it would not be the first time. If I cannot have her, +at least let me see her as she was, real, earthly, not her +spirit, her ghost. I want her real self, undefiled again. If +this is dementia, then let me be demented. But help me, you and +your God; create the delusion, do the miracle." + +"Stop!" cried the priest again, shaking him roughly by the +shoulder. "Stop. Be yourself. This is dementia; but I shall +NOT let you be demented. Think of what you are saying. Bring +her back to you! Is that the way of God? I thought you were a +man; this is the talk of a weak-minded girl." + +Vanamee stirred abruptly in his place, drawing a long breath and +looking about him vaguely, as if he came to himself. + +"You are right," he muttered. "I hardly know what I am saying at +times. But there are moments when my whole mind and soul seem to +rise up in rebellion against what has happened; when it seems to +me that I am stronger than death, and that if I only knew how to +use the strength of my will, concentrate my power of thought-- +volition--that I could--I don't know--not call her back--but-- +something----" + +"A diseased and distorted mind is capable of hallucinations, if +that is what you mean," observed Sarria. + +"Perhaps that is what I mean. Perhaps I want only the delusion, +after all." + +Sarria did not reply, and there was a long silence. In the damp +south corners of the walls a frog began to croak at exact +intervals. The little fountain rippled monotonously, and a +magnolia flower dropped from one of the trees, falling straight +as a plummet through the motionless air, and settling upon the +gravelled walk with a faint rustling sound. Otherwise the +stillness was profound. + +A little later, the priest's cigar, long since out, slipped from +his fingers to the ground. He began to nod gently. Vanamee +touched his arm. + +"Asleep, sir?" + +The other started, rubbing his eyes. + +"Upon my word, I believe I was." + +"Better go to bed, sir. I am not tired. I think I shall sit out +here a little longer." + +"Well, perhaps I would be better off in bed. YOUR bed is always +ready for you here whenever you want to use it." + +"No--I shall go back to Quien Sabe--later. Good-night, sir." + +"Good-night, my boy." + +Vanamee was left alone. For a long time he sat motionless in his +place, his elbows on his knees, his chin propped in his hands. +The minutes passed--then the hours. The moon climbed steadily +higher among the stars. Vanamee rolled and smoked cigarette +after cigarette, the blue haze of smoke hanging motionless above +his head, or drifting in slowly weaving filaments across the open +spaces of the garden. + +But the influence of the old enclosure, this corner of romance +and mystery, this isolated garden of dreams, savouring of the +past, with its legends, its graves, its crumbling sun dial, its +fountain with its rime of moss, was not to be resisted. Now that +the priest had left him, the same exaltation of spirit that had +seized upon Vanamee earlier in the evening, by degrees grew big +again in his mind and imagination. His sorrow assaulted him like +the flagellations of a fine whiplash, and his love for Angele +rose again in his heart, it seemed to him never so deep, so +tender, so infinitely strong. No doubt, it was his familiarity +with the Mission garden, his clear-cut remembrance of it, as it +was in the days when he had met Angele there, tallying now so +exactly with the reality there under his eyes, that brought her +to his imagination so vividly. As yet he dared not trust himself +near her grave, but, for the moment, he rose and, his hands +clasped behind him, walked slowly from point to point amid the +tiny gravelled walks, recalling the incidents of eighteen years +ago. On the bench he had quitted he and Angele had often sat. +Here by the crumbling sun dial, he recalled the night when he had +kissed her for the first time. Here, again, by the rim of the +fountain, with its fringe of green, she once had paused, and, +baring her arm to the shoulder, had thrust it deep into the +water, and then withdrawing it, had given it to him to kiss, all +wet and cool; and here, at last, under the shadow of the pear +trees they had sat, evening after evening, looking off over the +little valley below them, watching the night build itself, dome- +like, from horizon to zenith. + +Brusquely Vanamee turned away from the prospect. The Seed ranch +was dark at this time of the year, and flowerless. Far off +toward its centre, he had caught a brief glimpse of the house +where Angele had lived, and a faint light burning in its window. +But he turned from it sharply. The deep-seated travail of his +grief abruptly reached the paroxysm. With long strides he +crossed the garden and reentered the Mission church itself, +plunging into the coolness of its atmosphere as into a bath. +What he searched for he did not know, or, rather, did not define. +He knew only that he was suffering, that a longing for Angele, +for some object around which his great love could enfold itself, +was tearing at his heart with iron teeth. He was ready to be +deluded; craved the hallucination; begged pitifully for the +illusion; anything rather than the empty, tenantless night, the +voiceless silence, the vast loneliness of the overspanning arc of +the heavens. + +Before the chancel rail of the altar, under the sanctuary lamp, +Vanamee sank upon his knees, his arms folded upon the rail, his +head bowed down upon them. He prayed, with what words he could +not say for what he did not understand--for help, merely, for +relief, for an Answer to his cry. + +It was upon that, at length, that his disordered mind +concentrated itself, an Answer--he demanded, he implored an +Answer. Not a vague visitation of Grace, not a formless sense of +Peace; but an Answer, something real, even if the reality were +fancied, a voice out of the night, responding to his, a hand in +the dark clasping his groping fingers, a breath, human, warm, +fragrant, familiar, like a soft, sweet caress on his shrunken +cheeks. Alone there in the dim half-light of the decaying +Mission, with its crumbling plaster, its naive crudity of +ornament and picture, he wrestled fiercely with his desires-- +words, fragments of sentences, inarticulate, incoherent, wrenched +from his tight-shut teeth. + +But the Answer was not in the church. Above him, over the high +altar, the Virgin in a glory, with downcast eyes and folded +hands, grew vague and indistinct in the shadow, the colours +fading, tarnished by centuries of incense smoke. The Christ in +agony on the Cross was but a lamentable vision of tormented +anatomy, grey flesh, spotted with crimson. The St. John, the San +Juan Bautista, patron saint of the Mission, the gaunt figure in +skins, two fingers upraised in the gesture of benediction, gazed +stolidly out into the half-gloom under the ceiling, ignoring the +human distress that beat itself in vain against the altar rail +below, and Angele remained as before--only a memory, far distant, +intangible, lost. + +Vanamee rose, turning his back upon the altar with a vague +gesture of despair. He crossed the church, and issuing from the +low-arched door opposite the pulpit, once more stepped out into +the garden. Here, at least, was reality. The warm, still air +descended upon him like a cloak, grateful, comforting, dispelling +the chill that lurked in the damp mould of plaster and crumbling +adobe. + +But now he found his way across the garden on the other side of +the fountain, where, ranged against the eastern wall, were nine +graves. Here Angele was buried, in the smallest grave of them +all, marked by the little headstone, with its two dates, only +sixteen years apart. To this spot, at last, he had returned, +after the years spent in the desert, the wilderness--after all +the wanderings of the Long Trail. Here, if ever, he must have a +sense of her nearness. Close at hand, a short four feet under +that mound of grass, was the form he had so often held in the +embrace of his arms; the face, the very face he had kissed, that +face with the hair of gold making three-cornered the round white +forehead, the violet-blue eyes, heavy-lidded, with their strange +oriental slant upward toward the temples; the sweet full lips, +almost Egyptian in their fulness--all that strange, perplexing, +wonderful beauty, so troublous, so enchanting, so out of all +accepted standards. + +He bent down, dropping upon one knee, a hand upon the headstone, +and read again the inscription. Then instinctively his hand left +the stone and rested upon the low mound of turf, touching it with +the softness of a caress; and then, before he was aware of it, he +was stretched at full length upon the earth, beside the grave, +his arms about the low mound, his lips pressed against the grass +with which it was covered. The pent-up grief of nearly twenty +years rose again within his heart, and overflowed, irresistible, +violent, passionate. There was no one to see, no one to hear. +Vanamee had no thought of restraint. He no longer wrestled with +his pain--strove against it. There was even a sense of relief in +permitting himself to be overcome. But the reaction from this +outburst was equally violent. His revolt against the inevitable, +his protest against the grave, shook him from head to foot, +goaded him beyond all bounds of reason, hounded him on and into +the domain of hysteria, dementia. Vanamee was no longer master +of himself--no longer knew what he was doing. + +At first, he had been content with merely a wild, unreasoned cry +to Heaven that Angele should be restored to him, but the vast +egotism that seems to run through all forms of disordered +intelligence gave his fancy another turn. He forgot God. He no +longer reckoned with Heaven. He arrogated their powers to +himself--struggled to be, of his own unaided might, stronger than +death, more powerful than the grave. He had demanded of Sarria +that God should restore Angele to him, but now he appealed +directly to Angele herself. As he lay there, his arms clasped +about her grave, she seemed so near to him that he fancied she +MUST hear. And suddenly, at this moment, his recollection of his +strange compelling power--the same power by which he had called +Presley to him half-way across the Quien Sabe ranch, the same +power which had brought Sarria to his side that very evening-- +recurred to him. Concentrating his mind upon the one object with +which it had so long been filled, Vanamee, his eyes closed, his +face buried in his arms, exclaimed: + +"Come to me--Angele--don't you hear? Come to me." + +But the Answer was not in the Grave. Below him the voiceless +Earth lay silent, moveless, withholding the secret, jealous of +that which it held so close in its grip, refusing to give up that +which had been confided to its keeping, untouched by the human +anguish that above there, on its surface, clutched with +despairing hands at a grave long made. The Earth that only that +morning had been so eager, so responsive to the lightest summons, +so vibrant with Life, now at night, holding death within its +embrace, guarding inviolate the secret of the Grave, was deaf to +all entreaty, refused the Answer, and Angele remained as before, +only a memory, far distant, intangible, lost. + +Vanamee lifted his head, looking about him with unseeing eyes, +trembling with the exertion of his vain effort. But he could not +as yet allow himself to despair. Never before had that curious +power of attraction failed him. He felt himself to be so strong +in this respect that he was persuaded if he exerted himself to +the limit of his capacity, something--he could not say what--must +come of it. If it was only a self-delusion, an hallucination, he +told himself that he would be content. + +Almost of its own accord, his distorted mind concentrated itself +again, every thought, all the power of his will riveting +themselves upon Angele. As if she were alive, he summoned her to +him. His eyes, fixed upon the name cut into the headstone, +contracted, the pupils growing small, his fists shut tight, his +nerves braced rigid. + +For a few seconds he stood thus, breathless, expectant, awaiting +the manifestation, the Miracle. Then, without knowing why, +hardly conscious of what was transpiring, he found that his +glance was leaving the headstone, was turning from the grave. +Not only this, but his whole body was following the direction of +his eyes. Before he knew it, he was standing with his back to +Angele's grave, was facing the north, facing the line of pear +trees and the little valley where the Seed ranch lay. At first, +he thought this was because he had allowed his will to weaken, +the concentrated power of his mind to grow slack. And once more +turning toward the grave, he banded all his thoughts together in +a consummate effort, his teeth grinding together, his hands +pressed to his forehead. He forced himself to the notion that +Angele was alive, and to this creature of his imagination he +addressed himself: + +"Angele!" he cried in a low voice; "Angele, I am calling you--do +you hear? Come to me--come to me now, now." + +Instead of the Answer he demanded, that inexplicable counter- +influence cut across the current of his thought. Strive as he +would against it, he must veer to the north, toward the pear +trees. Obeying it, he turned, and, still wondering, took a step +in that direction, then another and another. The next moment he +came abruptly to himself, in the black shadow of the pear trees +themselves, and, opening his eyes, found himself looking off over +the Seed ranch, toward the little house in the centre where +Angele had once lived. + +Perplexed, he returned to the grave, once more calling upon the +resources of his will, and abruptly, so soon as these reached a +certain point, the same cross-current set in. He could no longer +keep his eyes upon the headstone, could no longer think of the +grave and what it held. He must face the north; he must be drawn +toward the pear trees, and there left standing in their shadow, +looking out aimlessly over the Seed ranch, wondering, bewildered. +Farther than this the influence never drew him, but up to this +point--the line of pear trees--it was not to be resisted. + +For a time the peculiarity of the affair was of more interest to +Vanamee than even his own distress of spirit, and once or twice +he repeated the attempt, almost experimentally, and invariably +with the same result: so soon as he seemed to hold Angele in the +grip of his mind, he was moved to turn about toward the north, +and hurry toward the pear trees on the crest of the hill that +over-looked the little valley. + +But Vanamee's unhappiness was too keen this night for him to +dwell long upon the vagaries of his mind. Submitting at length, +and abandoning the grave, he flung himself down in the black +shade of the pear trees, his chin in his hands, and resigned +himself finally and definitely to the inrush of recollection and +the exquisite grief of an infinite regret. + +To his fancy, she came to him again. He put himself back many +years. He remembered the warm nights of July and August, +profoundly still, the sky encrusted with stars, the little +Mission garden exhaling the mingled perfumes that all through the +scorching day had been distilled under the steady blaze of a +summer's sun. He saw himself as another person, arriving at +this, their rendezvous. All day long she had been in his mind. +All day long he had looked forward to this quiet hour that +belonged to her. It was dark. He could see nothing, but, by and +by, he heard a step, a gentle rustle of the grass on the slope of +the hill pressed under an advancing foot. Then he saw the faint +gleam of pallid gold of her hair, a barely visible glow in the +starlight, and heard the murmur of her breath in the lapse of the +over-passing breeze. And then, in the midst of the gentle +perfumes of the garden, the perfumes of the magnolia flowers, of +the mignonette borders, of the crumbling walls, there expanded a +new odour, or the faint mingling of many odours, the smell of the +roses that lingered in her hair, of the lilies that exhaled from +her neck, of the heliotrope that disengaged itself from her hands +and arms, and of the hyacinths with which her little feet were +redolent, And then, suddenly, it was herself--her eyes, heavy- +lidded, violet blue, full of the love of him; her sweet full lips +speaking his name; her hands clasping his hands, his shoulders, +his neck--her whole dear body giving itself into his embrace; her +lips against his; her hands holding his head, drawing his face +down to hers. + +Vanamee, as he remembered all this, flung out an arm with a cry +of pain, his eyes searching the gloom, all his mind in strenuous +mutiny against the triumph of Death. His glance shot swiftly out +across the night, unconsciously following the direction from +which Angele used to come to him. + +"Come to me now," he exclaimed under his breath, tense and rigid +with the vast futile effort of his will. "Come to me now, now. +Don't you hear me, Angele? You must, you must come." + +Suddenly Vanamee returned to himself with the abruptness of a +blow. His eyes opened. He half raised himself from the ground. +Swiftly his scattered wits readjusted themselves. Never more +sane, never more himself, he rose to his feet and stood looking +off into the night across the Seed ranch. + +"What was it?" he murmured, bewildered. + +He looked around him from side to side, as if to get in touch +with reality once more. He looked at his hands, at the rough +bark of the pear tree next which he stood, at the streaked and +rain-eroded walls of the Mission and garden. The exaltation of +his mind calmed itself; the unnatural strain under which he +laboured slackened. He became thoroughly master of himself +again, matter-of-fact, practical, keen. + +But just so sure as his hands were his own, just so sure as the +bark of the pear tree was rough, the mouldering adobe of the +Mission walls damp--just so sure had Something occurred. It was +vague, intangible, appealing only to some strange, nameless sixth +sense, but none the less perceptible. His mind, his imagination, +sent out from him across the night, across the little valley +below him, speeding hither and thither through the dark, lost, +confused, had suddenly paused, hovering, had found Something. It +had not returned to him empty-handed. It had come back, but now +there was a change--mysterious, illusive. There were no words +for this that had transpired. But for the moment, one thing only +was certain. The night was no longer voiceless, the dark was no +longer empty. Far off there, beyond the reach of vision, +unlocalised, strange, a ripple had formed on the still black pool +of the night, had formed, flashed one instant to the stars, then +swiftly faded again. The night shut down once more. There was +no sound--nothing stirred. + +For the moment, Vanamee stood transfixed, struck rigid in his +place, stupefied, his eyes staring, breathless with utter +amazement. Then, step by step, he shrank back into the deeper +shadow, treading with the infinite precaution of a prowling +leopard. A qualm of something very much like fear seized upon +him. But immediately on the heels of this first impression came +the doubt of his own senses. Whatever had happened had been so +ephemeral, so faint, so intangible, that now he wondered if he +had not deceived himself, after all. But the reaction followed. +Surely, there had been Something. And from that moment began for +him the most poignant uncertainty of mind. Gradually he drew +back into the garden, holding his breath, listening to every +faintest sound, walking upon tiptoe. He reached the fountain, +and wetting his hands, passed them across his forehead and eyes. +Once more he stood listening. The silence was profound. + +Troubled, disturbed, Vanamee went away, passing out of the +garden, descending the hill. He forded Broderson Creek where it +intersected the road to Guadalajara, and went on across Quien +Sabe, walking slowly, his head bent down, his hands clasped +behind his back, thoughtful, perplexed. + + + +CHAPTER V + + +At seven o'clock, in the bedroom of his ranch house, in the +white-painted iron bedstead with its blue-grey army blankets and +red counterpane, Annixter was still asleep, his face red, his +mouth open, his stiff yellow hair in wild disorder. On the +wooden chair at the bed-head, stood the kerosene lamp, by the +light of which he had been reading the previous evening. Beside +it was a paper bag of dried prunes, and the limp volume of +"Copperfield," the place marked by a slip of paper torn from the +edge of the bag. + +Annixter slept soundly, making great work of the business, unable +to take even his rest gracefully. His eyes were shut so tight +that the skin at their angles was drawn into puckers. Under his +pillow, his two hands were doubled up into fists. At intervals, +he gritted his teeth ferociously, while, from time to time, the +abrupt sound of his snoring dominated the brisk ticking of the +alarm clock that hung from the brass knob of the bed-post, within +six inches of his ear. + +But immediately after seven, this clock sprung its alarm with the +abruptness of an explosion, and within the second, Annixter had +hurled the bed-clothes from him and flung himself up to a sitting +posture on the edge of the bed, panting and gasping, blinking at +the light, rubbing his head, dazed and bewildered, stupefied at +the hideous suddenness with which he had been wrenched from his +sleep. + +His first act was to take down the alarm clock and stifle its +prolonged whirring under the pillows and blankets. But when this +had been done, he continued to sit stupidly on the edge of the +bed, curling his toes away from the cold of the floor; his half- +shut eyes, heavy with sleep, fixed and vacant, closing and +opening by turns. For upwards of three minutes he alternately +dozed and woke, his head and the whole upper half of his body +sagging abruptly sideways from moment to moment. But at length, +coming more to himself, he straightened up, ran his fingers +through his hair, and with a prodigious yawn, murmured vaguely: + +"Oh, Lord! Oh-h, LORD!" + +He stretched three or four times, twisting about in his place, +curling and uncurling his toes, muttering from time to time +between two yawns: + +"Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" + +He stared about the room, collecting his thoughts, readjusting +himself for the day's work. + +The room was barren, the walls of tongue-and-groove sheathing-- +alternate brown and yellow boards--like the walls of a stable, +were adorned with two or three unframed lithographs, the +Christmas "souvenirs" of weekly periodicals, fastened with great +wire nails; a bunch of herbs or flowers, lamentably withered and +grey with dust, was affixed to the mirror over the black walnut +washstand by the window, and a yellowed photograph of Annixter's +combined harvester--himself and his men in a group before it-- +hung close at hand. On the floor, at the bedside and before the +bureau, were two oval rag-carpet rugs. In the corners of the +room were muddy boots, a McClellan saddle, a surveyor's transit, +an empty coal-hod and a box of iron bolts and nuts. On the wall +over the bed, in a gilt frame, was Annixter's college diploma, +while on the bureau, amid a litter of hair-brushes, dirty +collars, driving gloves, cigars and the like, stood a broken +machine for loading shells. + +It was essentially a man's room, rugged, uncouth, virile, full of +the odours of tobacco, of leather, of rusty iron; the bare floor +hollowed by the grind of hob-nailed boots, the walls marred by +the friction of heavy things of metal. Strangely enough, +Annixter's clothes were disposed of on the single chair with the +precision of an old maid. Thus he had placed them the night +before; the boots set carefully side by side, the trousers, with +the overalls still upon them, neatly folded upon the seat of the +chair, the coat hanging from its back. + +The Quien Sabe ranch house was a six-room affair, all on one +floor. By no excess of charity could it have been called a home. +Annixter was a wealthy man; he could have furnished his dwelling +with quite as much elegance as that of Magnus Derrick. As it +was, however, he considered his house merely as a place to eat, +to sleep, to change his clothes in; as a shelter from the rain, +an office where business was transacted--nothing more. + +When he was sufficiently awake, Annixter thrust his feet into a +pair of wicker slippers, and shuffled across the office adjoining +his bedroom, to the bathroom just beyond, and stood under the icy +shower a few minutes, his teeth chattering, fulminating oaths at +the coldness of the water. Still shivering, he hurried into his +clothes, and, having pushed the button of the electric bell to +announce that he was ready for breakfast, immediately plunged +into the business of the day. While he was thus occupied, the +butcher's cart from Bonneville drove into the yard with the day's +supply of meat. This cart also brought the Bonneville paper and +the mail of the previous night. In the bundle of correspondence +that the butcher handed to Annixter that morning, was a telegram +from Osterman, at that time on his second trip to Los Angeles. +It read: + + +"Flotation of company in this district assured. Have secured +services of desirable party. Am now in position to sell you your +share stock, as per original plan." + + +Annixter grunted as he tore the despatch into strips. +"Well," he muttered, "that part is settled, then." + +He made a little pile of the torn strips on the top of the +unlighted stove, and burned them carefully, scowling down into +the flicker of fire, thoughtful and preoccupied. + +He knew very well what Osterman referred to by "Flotation of +company," and also who was the "desirable party" he spoke of. + +Under protest, as he was particular to declare, and after +interminable argument, Annixter had allowed himself to be +reconciled with Osterman, and to be persuaded to reenter the +proposed political "deal." A committee had been formed to +finance the affair--Osterman, old Broderson, Annixter himself, +and, with reservations, hardly more than a looker-on, Harran +Derrick. Of this committee, Osterman was considered chairman. +Magnus Derrick had formally and definitely refused his adherence +to the scheme. He was trying to steer a middle course. His +position was difficult, anomalous. If freight rates were cut +through the efforts of the members of the committee, he could not +very well avoid taking advantage of the new schedule. He would +be the gainer, though sharing neither the risk nor the expense. +But, meanwhile, the days were passing; the primary elections were +drawing nearer. The committee could not afford to wait, and by +way of a beginning, Osterman had gone to Los Angeles, fortified +by a large sum of money--a purse to which Annixter, Broderson and +himself had contributed. He had put himself in touch with +Disbrow, the political man of the Denver, Pueblo and Mojave road, +and had had two interviews with him. The telegram that Annixter +received that morning was to say that Disbrow had been bought +over, and would adopt Parrell as the D., P. and M. candidate for +Railroad Commissioner from the third district. + +One of the cooks brought up Annixter's breakfast that morning, +and he went through it hastily, reading his mail at the same time +and glancing over the pages of the "Mercury," Genslinger's paper. +The "Mercury," Annixter was persuaded, received a subsidy from +the Pacific and Southwestern Railroad, and was hardly better than +the mouthpiece by which Shelgrim and the General Office spoke to +ranchers about Bonneville. + +An editorial in that morning's issue said: + +"It would not be surprising to the well-informed, if the long- +deferred re-grade of the value of the railroad sections included +in the Los Muertos, Quien Sabe, Osterman and Broderson properties +was made before the first of the year. Naturally, the tenants of +these lands feel an interest in the price which the railroad will +put upon its holdings, and it is rumoured they expect the land +will be offered to them for two dollars and fifty cents per acre. +It needs no seventh daughter of a seventh daughter to foresee +that these gentlemen will be disappointed." + +"Rot!" vociferated Annixter to himself as he finished. He rolled +the paper into a wad and hurled it from him. + +"Rot! rot! What does Genslinger know about it? I stand on my +agreement with the P. and S. W.--from two fifty to five dollars +an acre--there it is in black and white. The road IS obligated. +And my improvements! I made the land valuable by improving it, +irrigating it, draining it, and cultivating it. Talk to ME. I +know better." + +The most abiding impression that Genslinger's editorial made upon +him was, that possibly the "Mercury" was not subsidised by the +corporation after all. If it was; Genslinger would not have been +led into making his mistake as to the value of the land. He +would have known that the railroad was under contract to sell at +two dollars and a half an acre, and not only this, but that when +the land was put upon the market, it was to be offered to the +present holders first of all. Annixter called to mind the +explicit terms of the agreement between himself and the railroad, +and dismissed the matter from his mind. He lit a cigar, put on +his hat and went out. + +The morning was fine, the air nimble, brisk. On the summit of +the skeleton-like tower of the artesian well, the windmill was +turning steadily in a breeze from the southwest. The water in +the irrigating ditch was well up. There was no cloud in the sky. +Far off to the east and west, the bulwarks of the valley, the +Coast Range and the foothills of the Sierras stood out, pale +amethyst against the delicate pink and white sheen of the +horizon. The sunlight was a veritable flood, crystal, limpid, +sparkling, setting a feeling of gayety in the air, stirring up an +effervescence in the blood, a tumult of exuberance in the veins. + +But on his way to the barns, Annixter was obliged to pass by the +open door of the dairy-house. Hilma Tree was inside, singing at +her work; her voice of a velvety huskiness, more of the chest +than of the throat, mingling with the liquid dashing of the milk +in the vats and churns, and the clear, sonorous clinking of the +cans and pans. Annixter turned into the dairy-house, pausing on +the threshold, looking about him. Hilma stood bathed from head +to foot in the torrent of sunlight that poured in upon her from +the three wide-open windows. She was charming, delicious, +radiant of youth, of health, of well-being. Into her eyes, wide +open, brown, rimmed with their fine, thin line of intense black +lashes, the sun set a diamond flash; the same golden light glowed +all around her thick, moist hair, lambent, beautiful, a sheen of +almost metallic lustre, and reflected itself upon her wet lips, +moving with the words of her singing. The whiteness of her skin +under the caress of this hale, vigorous morning light was +dazzling, pure, of a fineness beyond words. Beneath the sweet +modulation of her chin, the reflected light from the burnished +copper vessel she was carrying set a vibration of pale gold. +Overlaying the flush of rose in her cheeks, seen only when she +stood against the sunlight, was a faint sheen of down, a lustrous +floss, delicate as the pollen of a flower, or the impalpable +powder of a moth's wing. She was moving to and fro about her +work, alert, joyous, robust; and from all the fine, full +amplitude of her figure, from her thick white neck, sloping +downward to her shoulders, from the deep, feminine swell of her +breast, the vigorous maturity of her hips, there was disengaged a +vibrant note of gayety, of exuberant animal life, sane, honest, +strong. She wore a skirt of plain blue calico and a shirtwaist +of pink linen, clean, trim; while her sleeves turned back to her +shoulders, showed her large, white arms, wet with milk, redolent +and fragrant with milk, glowing and resplendent in the early +morning light. + +On the threshold, Annixter took off his hat. + +"Good morning, Miss Hilma." + +Hilma, who had set down the copper can on top of the vat, turned +about quickly. + +"Oh, GOOD morning, sir;" and, unconsciously, she made a little +gesture of salutation with her hand, raising it part way toward +her head, as a man would have done. + +"Well," began Annixter vaguely, "how are you getting along down +here?" + +"Oh, very fine. To-day, there is not so much to do. We drew the +whey hours ago, and now we are just done putting the curd to +press. I have been cleaning. See my pans. Wouldn't they do for +mirrors, sir? And the copper things. I have scrubbed and +scrubbed. Oh, you can look into the tiniest corners, everywhere, +you won't find so much as the littlest speck of dirt or grease. +I love CLEAN things, and this room is my own particular place. +Here I can do just as I please, and that is, to keep the cement +floor, and the vats, and the churns and the separators, and +especially the cans and coppers, clean; clean, and to see that +the milk is pure, oh, so that a little baby could drink it; and +to have the air always sweet, and the sun--oh, lots and lots of +sun, morning, noon and afternoon, so that everything shines. You +know, I never see the sun set that it don't make me a little sad; +yes, always, just a little. Isn't it funny? I should want it to +be day all the time. And when the day is gloomy and dark, I am +just as sad as if a very good friend of mine had left me. Would +you believe it? Just until within a few years, when I was a big +girl, sixteen and over, mamma had to sit by my bed every night +before I could go to sleep. I was afraid in the dark. Sometimes +I am now. Just imagine, and now I am nineteen--a young lady." + +"You were, hey?" observed Annixter, for the sake of saying +something. "Afraid in the dark? What of--ghosts?" + +"N-no; I don't know what. I wanted the light, I wanted----" She +drew a deep breath, turning towards the window and spreading her +pink finger-tips to the light. "Oh, the SUN. I love the sun. +See, put your hand there--here on the top of the vat--like that. +Isn't it warm? Isn't it fine? And don't you love to see it +coming in like that through the windows, floods of it; and all +the little dust in it shining? Where there is lots of sunlight, +I think the people must be very good. It's only wicked people +that love the dark. And the wicked things are always done and +planned in the dark, I think. Perhaps, too, that's why I hate +things that are mysterious--things that I can't see, that happen +in the dark." She wrinkled her nose with a little expression of +aversion. "I hate a mystery. Maybe that's why I am afraid in +the dark--or was. I shouldn't like to think that anything could +happen around me that I couldn't see or understand or explain." + +She ran on from subject to subject, positively garrulous, talking +in her low-pitched voice of velvety huskiness for the mere +enjoyment of putting her ideas into speech, innocently assuming +that they were quite as interesting to others as to herself. She +was yet a great child, ignoring the fact that she had ever grown +up, taking a child's interest in her immediate surroundings, +direct, straightforward, plain. While speaking, she continued +about her work, rinsing out the cans with a mixture of hot water +and soda, scouring them bright, and piling them in the sunlight +on top of the vat. + +Obliquely, and from between his narrowed lids, Annixter +scrutinised her from time to time, more and more won over by her +adorable freshness, her clean, fine youth. The clumsiness that +he usually experienced in the presence of women was wearing off. +Hilma Tree's direct simplicity put him at his ease. He began to +wonder if he dared to kiss Hilma, and if he did dare, how she +would take it. A spark of suspicion flickered up in his mind. +Did not her manner imply, vaguely, an invitation? One never +could tell with feemales. That was why she was talking so much, +no doubt, holding him there, affording the opportunity. Aha! +She had best look out, or he would take her at her word. + +"Oh, I had forgotten," suddenly exclaimed Hilma, "the very thing +I wanted to show you--the new press. You remember I asked for +one last month? This is it. See, this is how it works. Here is +where the curds go; look. And this cover is screwed down like +this, and then you work the lever this way." She grasped the +lever in both hands, throwing her weight upon it, her smooth, +bare arm swelling round and firm with the effort, one slim foot, +in its low shoe set off with the bright, steel buckle, braced +against the wall. + +"My, but that takes strength," she panted, looking up at him and +smiling. "But isn't it a fine press? Just what we needed." + +"And," Annixter cleared his throat, "and where do you keep the +cheeses and the butter?" He thought it very likely that these +were in the cellar of the dairy. + +"In the cellar," answered Hilma. "Down here, see?" She raised +the flap of the cellar door at the end of the room. "Would you +like to see? Come down; I'll show you." + +She went before him down into the cool obscurity underneath, +redolent of new cheese and fresh butter. Annixter followed, a +certain excitement beginning to gain upon him. He was almost +sure now that Hilma wanted him to kiss her. At all events, one +could but try. But, as yet, he was not absolutely sure. Suppose +he had been mistaken in her; suppose she should consider herself +insulted and freeze him with an icy stare. Annixter winced at +the very thought of it. Better let the whole business go, and +get to work. He was wasting half the morning. Yet, if she DID +want to give him the opportunity of kissing her, and he failed to +take advantage of it, what a ninny she would think him; she would +despise him for being afraid. He afraid! He, Annixter, afraid +of a fool, feemale girl. Why, he owed it to himself as a man to +go as far as he could. He told himself that that goat Osterman +would have kissed Hilma Tree weeks ago. To test his state of +mind, he imagined himself as having decided to kiss her, after +all, and at once was surprised to experience a poignant qualm of +excitement, his heart beating heavily, his breath coming short. +At the same time, his courage remained with him. He was not +afraid to try. He felt a greater respect for himself because of +this. His self-assurance hardened within him, and as Hilma +turned to him, asking him to taste a cut from one of the ripe +cheeses, he suddenly stepped close to her, throwing an arm about +her shoulders, advancing his head. + +But at the last second, he bungled, hesitated; Hilma shrank from +him, supple as a young reed; Annixter clutched harshly at her +arm, and trod his full weight upon one of her slender feet, his +cheek and chin barely touching the delicate pink lobe of one of +her ears, his lips brushing merely a fold of her shirt waist +between neck and shoulder. The thing was a failure, and at once +he realised that nothing had been further from Hilma's mind than +the idea of his kissing her. + +She started back from him abruptly, her hands nervously clasped +against her breast, drawing in her breath sharply and holding it +with a little, tremulous catch of the throat that sent a +quivering vibration the length of her smooth, white neck. Her +eyes opened wide with a childlike look, more of astonishment than +anger. She was surprised, out of all measure, discountenanced, +taken all aback, and when she found her breath, gave voice to a +great "Oh" of dismay and distress. + +For an instant, Annixter stood awkwardly in his place, +ridiculous, clumsy, murmuring over and over again: + +"Well--well--that's all right--who's going to hurt you? You +needn't be afraid--who's going to hurt you--that's all right." + +Then, suddenly, with a quick, indefinite gesture of one arm, he +exclaimed: + +"Good-bye, I--I'm sorry." + +He turned away, striding up the stairs, crossing the dairy-room, +and regained the open air, raging and furious. He turned toward +the barns, clapping his hat upon his head, muttering the while +under his breath: + +"Oh, you goat! You beastly fool PIP. Good LORD, what an ass +you've made of yourself now!" + +Suddenly he resolved to put Hilma Tree out of his thoughts. The +matter was interfering with his work. This kind of thing was +sure not earning any money. He shook himself as though freeing +his shoulders of an irksome burden, and turned his entire +attention to the work nearest at hand. + +The prolonged rattle of the shinglers' hammers upon the roof of +the big barn attracted him, and, crossing over between the ranch +house and the artesian well, he stood for some time absorbed in +the contemplation of the vast building, amused and interested +with the confusion of sounds--the clatter of hammers, the +cadenced scrape of saws, and the rhythmic shuffle of planes--that +issued from the gang of carpenters who were at that moment +putting the finishing touches upon the roof and rows of stalls. +A boy and two men were busy hanging the great sliding door at the +south end, while the painters--come down from Bonneville early +that morning--were engaged in adjusting the spray and force +engine, by means of which Annixter had insisted upon painting the +vast surfaces of the barn, condemning the use of brushes and pots +for such work as old-fashioned and out-of-date. + +He called to one of the foremen, to ask when the barn would be +entirely finished, and was told that at the end of the week the +hay and stock could be installed. + +"And a precious long time you've been at it, too," Annixter +declared. + +"Well, you know the rain----" + +"Oh, rot the rain! I work in the rain. You and your unions make +me sick." + +"But, Mr. Annixter, we couldn't have begun painting in the rain. +The job would have been spoiled." + +"Hoh, yes, spoiled. That's all very well. Maybe it would, and +then, again, maybe it wouldn't." + +But when the foreman had left him, Annixter could not forbear a +growl of satisfaction. It could not be denied that the barn was +superb, monumental even. Almost any one of the other barns in +the county could be swung, bird-cage fashion, inside of it, with +room to spare. In every sense, the barn was precisely what +Annixter had hoped of it. In his pleasure over the success of +his idea, even Hilma for the moment was forgotten. + +"And, now," murmured Annixter, "I'll give that dance in it. I'll +make 'em sit up." + +It occurred to him that he had better set about sending out the +invitations for the affair. He was puzzled to decide just how +the thing should be managed, and resolved that it might be as +well to consult Magnus and Mrs. Derrick. + +"I want to talk of this telegram of the goat's with Magnus, +anyhow," he said to himself reflectively, "and there's things I +got to do in Bonneville before the first of the month." + +He turned about on his heel with a last look at the barn, and set +off toward the stable. He had decided to have his horse saddled +and ride over to Bonneville by way of Los Muertos. He would make +a day of it, would see Magnus, Harran, old Broderson and some of +the business men of Bonneville. + +A few moments later, he rode out of the barn and the stable-yard, +a fresh cigar between his teeth, his hat slanted over his face +against the rays of the sun, as yet low in the east. He crossed +the irrigating ditch and gained the trail--the short cut over +into Los Muertos, by way of Hooven's. It led south and west into +the low ground overgrown by grey-green willows by Broderson +Creek, at this time of the rainy season a stream of considerable +volume, farther on dipping sharply to pass underneath the Long +Trestle of the railroad. On the other side of the right of way, +Annixter was obliged to open the gate in Derrick's line fence. +He managed this without dismounting, swearing at the horse the +while, and spurring him continually. But once inside the gate he +cantered forward briskly. + +This part of Los Muertos was Hooven's holding, some five hundred +acres enclosed between the irrigating ditch and Broderson Creek, +and half the way across, Annixter came up with Hooven himself, +busily at work replacing a broken washer in his seeder. Upon one +of the horses hitched to the machine, her hands gripped tightly +upon the harness of the collar, Hilda, his little daughter, with +her small, hob-nailed boots and boy's canvas overalls, sat, +exalted and petrified with ecstasy and excitement, her eyes wide +opened, her hair in a tangle. + +"Hello, Bismarck," said Annixter, drawing up beside him. "What +are YOU doing here? I thought the Governor was going to manage +without his tenants this year." + +"Ach, Meest'r Ennixter," cried the other, straightening up. +"Ach, dat's you, eh? Ach, you bedt he doand menege mitout me. +Me, I gotta stay. I talk der straighd talk mit der Governor. I +fix 'em. Ach, you bedt. Sieben yahr I hef bei der rench ge- +stopped; yais, sir. Efery oder sohn-of-a-guhn bei der plaice ged +der sach bud me. Eh? Wat you tink von dose ting?" + +"I think that's a crazy-looking monkey-wrench you've got there," +observed Annixter, glancing at the instrument in Hooven's hand. + +"Ach, dot wrainch," returned Hooven. "Soh! Wail, I tell you +dose ting now whair I got 'em. Say, you see dot wrainch. Dat's +not Emericen wrainch at alle. I got 'em at Gravelotte der day we +licked der stuffun oudt der Frainch, ach, you bedt. Me, I pelong +to der Wurtemberg redgimend, dot dey use to suppord der batterie +von der Brince von Hohenlohe. Alle der day we lay down bei der +stomach in der feildt behindt der batterie, und der schells von +der Frainch cennon hef eggsblode--ach, donnerwetter!--I tink +efery schell eggsblode bei der beckside my neck. Und dat go on +der whole day, noddun else, noddun aber der Frainch schell, b-r- +r, b-r-r b-r-r, b-r-AM, und der smoag, und unzer batterie, dat go +off slow, steady, yoost like der glock, eins, zwei, boom! eins, +zwei, boom! yoost like der glock, ofer und ofer again, alle der +day. Den vhen der night come dey say we hev der great victorie +made. I doand know. Vhat do I see von der bettle? Noddun. Den +we gedt oop und maerch und maerch alle night, und in der morgen +we hear dose cennon egain, hell oaf der way, far-off, I doand +know vhair. Budt, nef'r mindt. Bretty qnick, ach, Gott--" his +face flamed scarlet, "Ach, du lieber Gott! Bretty zoon, dere +wass der Kaiser, glose bei, und Fritz, Unzer Fritz. Bei Gott, +den I go grazy, und yell, ach, you bedt, der whole redgimend: +'Hoch der Kaiser! Hoch der Vaterland!' Und der dears come to der +eyes, I doand know because vhy, und der mens gry und shaike der +hend, und der whole redgimend maerch off like dat, fairy broudt, +bei Gott, der head oop high, und sing 'Die Wacht am Rhein.' Dot +wass Gravelotte." + +"And the monkey-wrench?" + +"Ach, I pick 'um oop vhen der batterie go. Der cennoniers hef +forgedt und leaf 'um. I carry 'um in der sack. I tink I use 'um +vhen I gedt home in der business. I was maker von vagons in +Carlsruhe, und I nef'r gedt home again. Vhen der war hef godt +over, I go beck to Ulm und gedt marriet, und den I gedt demn sick +von der armie. Vhen I gedt der release, I clair oudt, you bedt. +I come to Emerica. First, New Yor-ruk; den Milwaukee; den +Sbringfieldt-Illinoy; den Galifornie, und heir I stay." + +"And the Fatherland? Ever want to go back?" + +"Wail, I tell you dose ting, Meest'r Ennixter. Alle-ways, I tink +a lot oaf Shairmany, und der Kaiser, und nef'r I forgedt +Gravelotte. Budt, say, I tell you dose ting. Vhair der wife is, +und der kinder--der leedle girl Hilda--DERE IS DER VATERLAND. +Eh? Emerica, dat's my gountry now, und dere," he pointed behind +him to the house under the mammoth oak tree on the Lower Road, +"dat's my home. Dat's goot enough Vaterland for me." + +Annixter gathered up the reins, about to go on. + +"So you like America, do you, Bismarck?" he said. "Who do you +vote for?" + +"Emerica? I doand know," returned the other, insistently. +"Dat's my home yonder. Dat's my Vaterland. Alle von we +Shairmens yoost like dot. Shairmany, dot's hell oaf some fine +plaice, sure. Budt der Vaterland iss vhair der home und der wife +und kinder iss. Eh? Yes? Voad? Ach, no. Me, I nef'r voad. +I doand bodder der haid mit dose ting. I maig der wheat grow, +und ged der braid fur der wife und Hilda, dot's all. Dot's me; +dot's Bismarck." + +"Good-bye," commented Annixter, moving off. + +Hooven, the washer replaced, turned to his work again, starting +up the horses. The seeder advanced, whirring. + +"Ach, Hilda, leedle girl," he cried, "hold tight bei der shdrap +on. Hey MULE! Hoop! Gedt oop, you." + +Annixter cantered on. In a few moments, he had crossed Broderson +Creek and had entered upon the Home ranch of Los Muertos. Ahead +of him, but so far off that the greater portion of its bulk was +below the horizon, he could see the Derricks' home, a roof or two +between the dull green of cypress and eucalyptus. Nothing else +was in sight. The brown earth, smooth, unbroken, was as a +limitless, mud-coloured ocean. The silence was profound. + +Then, at length, Annixter's searching eye made out a blur on the +horizon to the northward; the blur concentrated itself to a +speck; the speck grew by steady degrees to a spot, slowly moving, +a note of dull colour, barely darker than the land, but an inky +black silhouette as it topped a low rise of ground and stood for +a moment outlined against the pale blue of the sky. Annixter +turned his horse from the road and rode across the ranch land to +meet this new object of interest. As the spot grew larger, it +resolved itself into constituents, a collection of units; its +shape grew irregular, fragmentary. A disintegrated, nebulous +confusion advanced toward Annixter, preceded, as he discovered on +nearer approach, by a medley of faint sounds. Now it was no +longer a spot, but a column, a column that moved, accompanied by +spots. As Annixter lessened the distance, these spots resolved +themselves into buggies or men on horseback that kept pace with +the advancing column. There were horses in the column itself. +At first glance, it appeared as if there were nothing else, a +riderless squadron tramping steadily over the upturned plough +land of the ranch. But it drew nearer. The horses were in +lines, six abreast, harnessed to machines. The noise increased, +defined itself. There was a shout or two; occasionally a horse +blew through his nostrils with a prolonged, vibrating snort. The +click and clink of metal work was incessant, the machines +throwing off a continual rattle of wheels and cogs and clashing +springs. The column approached nearer; was close at hand. The +noises mingled to a subdued uproar, a bewildering confusion; the +impact of innumerable hoofs was a veritable rumble. Machine +after machine appeared; and Annixter, drawing to one side, +remained for nearly ten minutes watching and interested, while, +like an array of chariots--clattering, jostling, creaking, +clashing, an interminable procession, machine succeeding machine, +six-horse team succeeding six-horse team--bustling, hurried-- +Magnus Derrick's thirty-three grain drills, each with its eight +hoes, went clamouring past, like an advance of military, seeding +the ten thousand acres of the great ranch; fecundating the living +soil; implanting deep in the dark womb of the Earth the germ of +life, the sustenance of a whole world, the food of an entire +People. + +When the drills had passed, Annixter turned and rode back to the +Lower Road, over the land now thick with seed. He did not wonder +that the seeding on Los Muertos seemed to be hastily conducted. +Magnus and Harran Derrick had not yet been able to make up the +time lost at the beginning of the season, when they had waited so +long for the ploughs to arrive. They had been behindhand all the +time. On Annixter's ranch, the land had not only been harrowed, +as well as seeded, but in some cases, cross-harrowed as well. +The labour of putting in the vast crop was over. Now there was +nothing to do but wait, while the seed silently germinated; +nothing to do but watch for the wheat to come up. + +When Annixter reached the ranch house of Los Muertos, under the +shade of the cypress and eucalyptus trees, he found Mrs. Derrick +on the porch, seated in a long wicker chair. She had been +washing her hair, and the light brown locks that yet retained so +much of their brightness, were carefully spread in the sun over +the back of her chair. Annixter could not but remark that, +spite of her more than fifty years, Annie Derrick was yet rather +pretty. Her eyes were still those of a young girl, just touched +with an uncertain expression of innocence and inquiry, but as her +glance fell upon him, he found that that expression changed to +one of uneasiness, of distrust, almost of aversion. + +The night before this, after Magnus and his wife had gone to bed, +they had lain awake for hours, staring up into the dark, talking, +talking. Magnus had not long been able to keep from his wife the +news of the coalition that was forming against the railroad, nor +the fact that this coalition was determined to gain its ends by +any means at its command. He had told her of Osterman's scheme +of a fraudulent election to seat a Board of Railroad +Commissioners, who should be nominees of the farming interests. +Magnus and his wife had talked this matter over and over again; +and the same discussion, begun immediately after supper the +evening before, had lasted till far into the night. + +At once, Annie Derrick had been seized with a sudden terror lest +Magnus, after all, should allow himself to be persuaded; should +yield to the pressure that was every day growing stronger. None +better than she knew the iron integrity of her husband's +character. None better than she remembered how his dearest +ambition, that of political preferment, had been thwarted by his +refusal to truckle, to connive, to compromise with his ideas of +right. Now, at last, there seemed to be a change. Long +continued oppression, petty tyranny, injustice and extortion had +driven him to exasperation. S. Behrman's insults still rankled. +He seemed nearly ready to countenance Osterman's scheme. The +very fact that he was willing to talk of it to her so often and +at such great length, was proof positive that it occupied his +mind. The pity of it, the tragedy of it! He, Magnus, the +"Governor," who had been so staunch, so rigidly upright, so loyal +to his convictions, so bitter in his denunciation of the New +Politics, so scathing in his attacks on bribery and corruption in +high places; was it possible that now, at last, he could be +brought to withhold his condemnation of the devious intrigues of +the unscrupulous, going on there under his very eyes? That +Magnus should not command Harran to refrain from all intercourse +with the conspirators, had been a matter of vast surprise to Mrs. +Derrick. Time was when Magnus would have forbidden his son to so +much as recognise a dishonourable man. + +But besides all this, Derrick's wife trembled at the thought of +her husband and son engaging in so desperate a grapple with the +railroad--that great monster, iron-hearted, relentless, +infinitely powerful. Always it had issued triumphant from the +fight; always S. Behrman, the Corporation's champion, remained +upon the field as victor, placid, unperturbed, unassailable. But +now a more terrible struggle than any hitherto loomed menacing +over the rim of the future; money was to be spent like water; +personal reputations were to be hazarded in the issue; failure +meant ruin in all directions, financial ruin, moral ruin, ruin of +prestige, ruin of character. Success, to her mind, was almost +impossible. Annie Derrick feared the railroad. At night, when +everything else was still, the distant roar of passing trains +echoed across Los Muertos, from Guadalajara, from Bonneville, or +from the Long Trestle, straight into her heart. At such moments +she saw very plainly the galloping terror of steam and steel, +with its single eye, cyclopean, red, shooting from horizon to +horizon, symbol of a vast power, huge and terrible; the leviathan +with tentacles of steel, to oppose which meant to be ground to +instant destruction beneath the clashing wheels. No, it was +better to submit, to resign oneself to the inevitable. She +obliterated herself, shrinking from the harshness of the world, +striving, with vain hands, to draw her husband back with her. + +Just before Annixter's arrival, she had been sitting, thoughtful, +in her long chair, an open volume of poems turned down upon her +lap, her glance losing itself in the immensity of Los Muertos +that, from the edge of the lawn close by, unrolled itself, +gigantic, toward the far, southern horizon, wrinkled and serrated +after the season's ploughing. The earth, hitherto grey with +dust, was now upturned and brown. As far as the eye could reach, +it was empty of all life, bare, mournful, absolutely still; and, +as she looked, there seemed to her morbid imagination--diseased +and disturbed with long brooding, sick with the monotony of +repeated sensation--to be disengaged from all this immensity, a +sense of a vast oppression, formless, disquieting. The terror of +sheer bigness grew slowly in her mind; loneliness beyond words +gradually enveloped her. She was lost in all these limitless +reaches of space. Had she been abandoned in mid-ocean, in an +open boat, her terror could hardly have been greater. She felt +vividly that certain uncongeniality which, when all is said, +forever remains between humanity and the earth which supports it. +She recognised the colossal indifference of nature, not hostile, +even kindly and friendly, so long as the human ant-swarm was +submissive, working with it, hurrying along at its side in the +mysterious march of the centuries. Let, however, the insect +rebel, strive to make head against the power of this nature, and +at once it became relentless, a gigantic engine, a vast power, +huge, terrible; a leviathan with a heart of steel, knowing no +compunction, no forgiveness, no tolerance; crushing out the human +atom with sound less calm, the agony of destruction sending never +a jar, never the faintest tremour through all that prodigious +mechanism of wheels and cogs. + +Such thoughts as these did not take shape distinctly in her mind. +She could not have told herself exactly what it was that +disquieted her. She only received the vague sensation of these +things, as it were a breath of wind upon her face, confused, +troublous, an indefinite sense of hostility in the air. + +The sound of hoofs grinding upon the gravel of the driveway +brought her to herself again, and, withdrawing her gaze from the +empty plain of Los Muertos, she saw young Annixter stopping his +horse by the carriage steps. But the sight of him only diverted +her mind to the other trouble. She could not but regard him with +aversion. He was one of the conspirators, was one of the leaders +in the battle that impended; no doubt, he had come to make a +fresh attempt to win over Magnus to the unholy alliance. + +However, there was little trace of enmity in her greeting. Her +hair was still spread, like a broad patch of back, and she made +that her excuse for not getting up. In answer to Annixter's +embarrassed inquiry after Magnus, she sent the Chinese cook to +call him from the office; and Annixter, after tying his horse to +the ring driven into the trunk of one of the eucalyptus trees, +came up to the porch, and, taking off his hat, sat down upon the +steps. + +"Is Harran anywhere about?" he asked. "I'd like to see Harran, +too." + +"No," said Mrs. Derrick, "Harran went to Bonneville early this +morning." + +She glanced toward Annixter nervously, without turning her head, +lest she should disturb her outspread hair. + +"What is it you want to see Mr. Derrick about?" she inquired +hastily. "Is it about this plan to elect a Railroad Commission? +Magnus does not approve of it," she declared with energy. "He +told me so last night." + +Annixter moved about awkwardly where he sat, smoothing down with +his hand the one stiff lock of yellow hair that persistently +stood up from his crown like an Indian's scalp-lock. At once his +suspicions were all aroused. Ah! this feemale woman was trying +to get a hold on him, trying to involve him in a petticoat mess, +trying to cajole him. Upon the instant, he became very crafty; +an excess of prudence promptly congealed his natural impulses. +In an actual spasm of caution, he scarcely trusted himself to +speak, terrified lest he should commit himself to something. He +glanced about apprehensively, praying that Magnus might join them +speedily, relieving the tension. + +"I came to see about giving a dance in my new barn," he answered, +scowling into the depths of his hat, as though reading from notes +he had concealed there. "I wanted to ask how I should send out +the invites. I thought of just putting an ad. in the 'Mercury.'" + +But as he spoke, Presley had come up behind Annixter in time to +get the drift of the conversation, and now observed: + +"That's nonsense, Buck. You're not giving a public ball. You +MUST send out invitations." + +"Hello, Presley, you there?" exclaimed Annixter, turning round. +The two shook hands. + +"Send out invitations?" repeated Annixter uneasily. "Why must +I?" + +"Because that's the only way to do." + +"It is, is it?" answered Annixter, perplexed and troubled. No +other man of his acquaintance could have so contradicted Annixter +without provoking a quarrel upon the instant. Why the young +rancher, irascible, obstinate, belligerent, should invariably +defer to the poet, was an inconsistency never to be explained. +It was with great surprise that Mrs. Derrick heard him continue: + +"Well, I suppose you know what you're talking about, Pres. Must +have written invites, hey?" + +"Of course." + +"Typewritten?" + +"Why, what an ass you are, Buck," observed Presley calmly. +"Before you get through with it, you will probably insult three- +fourths of the people you intend to invite, and have about a +hundred quarrels on your hands, and a lawsuit or two." + +However, before Annixter could reply, Magnus came out on the +porch, erect, grave, freshly shaven. Without realising what he +was doing, Annixter instinctively rose to his feet. It was as +though Magnus was a commander-in-chief of an unseen army, and he +a subaltern. There was some little conversation as to the +proposed dance, and then Annixter found an excuse for drawing the +Governor aside. Mrs. Derrick watched the two with eyes full of +poignant anxiety, as they slowly paced the length of the gravel +driveway to the road gate, and stood there, leaning upon it, +talking earnestly; Magnus tall, thin-lipped, impassive, one hand +in the breast of his frock coat, his head bare, his keen, blue +eyes fixed upon Annixter's face. Annixter came at once to the +main point. + +"I got a wire from Osterman this morning, Governor, and, well-- +we've got Disbrow. That means that the Denver, Pueblo and Mojave +is back of us. There's half the fight won, first off." + +"Osterman bribed him, I suppose," observed Magnus. + +Annixter raised a shoulder vexatiously. + +"You've got to pay for what you get," he returned. "You don't +get something for nothing, I guess. Governor," he went on, "I +don't see how you can stay out of this business much longer. You +see how it will be. We're going to win, and I don't see how you +can feel that it's right of you to let us do all the work and +stand all the expense. There's never been a movement of any +importance that went on around you that you weren't the leader in +it. All Tulare County, all the San Joaquin, for that matter, +knows you. They want a leader, and they are looking to you. I +know how you feel about politics nowadays. But, Governor, +standards have changed since your time; everybody plays the game +now as we are playing it--the most honourable men. You can't +play it any other way, and, pshaw! if the right wins out in the +end, that's the main thing. We want you in this thing, and we +want you bad. You've been chewing on this affair now a long +time. Have you made up your mind? Do you come in? I tell you +what, you've got to look at these things in a large way. You've +got to judge by results. Well, now, what do you think? Do you +come in?" + +Magnus's glance left Annixter's face, and for an instant sought +the ground. His frown lowered, but now it was in perplexity, +rather than in anger. His mind was troubled, harassed with a +thousand dissensions. + +But one of Magnus's strongest instincts, one of his keenest +desires, was to be, if only for a short time, the master. To +control men had ever been his ambition; submission of any kind, +his greatest horror. His energy stirred within him, goaded by +the lash of his anger, his sense of indignity, of insult. Oh for +one moment to be able to strike back, to crush his enemy, to +defeat the railroad, hold the Corporation in the grip of his +fist, put down S. Behrman, rehabilitate himself, regain his self- +respect. To be once more powerful, to command, to dominate. His +thin lips pressed themselves together; the nostrils of his +prominent hawk-like nose dilated, his erect, commanding figure +stiffened unconsciously. For a moment, he saw himself +controlling the situation, the foremost figure in his State, +feared, respected, thousands of men beneath him, his ambition at +length gratified; his career, once apparently brought to naught, +completed; success a palpable achievement. What if this were his +chance, after all, come at last after all these years. His +chance! The instincts of the old-time gambler, the most +redoubtable poker player of El Dorado County, stirred at the +word. Chance! To know it when it came, to recognise it as it +passed fleet as a wind-flurry, grip at it, catch at it, blind, +reckless, staking all upon the hazard of the issue, that was +genius. Was this his Chance? All of a sudden, it seemed to him +that it was. But his honour! His cherished, lifelong integrity, +the unstained purity of his principles? At this late date, were +they to be sacrificed? Could he now go counter to all the firm +built fabric of his character? How, afterward, could he bear to +look Harran and Lyman in the face? And, yet--and, yet--back +swung the pendulum--to neglect his Chance meant failure; a life +begun in promise, and ended in obscurity, perhaps in financial +ruin, poverty even. To seize it meant achievement, fame, +influence, prestige, possibly great wealth. + +"I am so sorry to interrupt," said Mrs. Derrick, as she came up. +"I hope Mr. Annixter will excuse me, but I want Magnus to open +the safe for me. I have lost the combination, and I must have +some money. Phelps is going into town, and I want him to pay +some bills for me. Can't you come right away, Magnus? Phelps is +ready and waiting." + +Annixter struck his heel into the ground with a suppressed oath. +Always these fool feemale women came between him and his plans, +mixing themselves up in his affairs. Magnus had been on the very +point of saying something, perhaps committing himself to some +course of action, and, at precisely the wrong moment, his wife +had cut in. The opportunity was lost. The three returned toward +the ranch house; but before saying good-bye, Annixter had secured +from Magnus a promise to the effect that, before coming to a +definite decision in the matter under discussion, he would talk +further with him. + +Presley met him at the porch. He was going into town with +Phelps, and proposed to Annixter that he should accompany them. + +"I want to go over and see old Broderson," Annixter objected. + +But Presley informed him that Broderson had gone to Bonneville +earlier in the morning. He had seen him go past in his +buckboard. The three men set off, Phelps and Annixter on +horseback, Presley on his bicycle. + +When they had gone, Mrs. Derrick sought out her husband in the +office of the ranch house. She was at her prettiest that +morning, her cheeks flushed with excitement, her innocent, wide- +open eyes almost girlish. She had fastened her hair, still +moist, with a black ribbon tied at the back of her head, and the +soft mass of light brown reached to below her waist, making her +look very young. + +"What was it he was saying to you just now," she exclaimed, as +she came through the gate in the green-painted wire railing of +the office. "What was Mr. Annixter saying? I know. He was +trying to get you to join him, trying to persuade you to be +dishonest, wasn't that it? Tell me, Magnus, wasn't that it?" + +Magnus nodded. + +His wife drew close to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. + +"But you won't, will you? You won't listen to him again; you +won't so much as allow him--anybody--to even suppose you would +lend yourself to bribery? Oh, Magnus, I don't know what has come +over you these last few weeks. Why, before this, you would have +been insulted if any one thought you would even consider anything +like dishonesty. Magnus, it would break my heart if you joined +Mr. Annixter and Mr. Osterman. Why, you couldn't be the same man +to me afterward; you, who have kept yourself so clean till now. +And the boys; what would Lyman say, and Harran, and every one who +knows you and respects you, if you lowered yourself to be just a +political adventurer!" + +For a moment, Derrick leaned his head upon his hand, avoiding her +gaze. At length, he said, drawing a deep breath: "I am troubled, +Annie. These are the evil days. I have much upon my mind." + +"Evil days or not," she insisted, "promise me this one thing, +that you will not join Mr. Annixter's scheme." +She had taken his hand in both of hers and was looking into his +face, her pretty eyes full of pleading. + +"Promise me," she repeated; "give me your word. Whatever +happens, let me always be able to be proud of you, as I always +have been. Give me your word. I know you never seriously +thought of joining Mr. Annixter, but I am so nervous and +frightened sometimes. Just to relieve my mind, Magnus, give me +your word." + +"Why--you are right," he answered. "No, I never thought +seriously of it. Only for a moment, I was ambitious to be--I +don't know what--what I had hoped to be once--well, that is over +now. Annie, your husband is a disappointed man." + +"Give me your word," she insisted. "We can talk about other +things afterward." + +Again Magnus wavered, about to yield to his better instincts and +to the entreaties of his wife. He began to see how perilously +far he had gone in this business. He was drifting closer to it +every hour. Already he was entangled, already his foot was +caught in the mesh that was being spun. Sharply he recoiled. +Again all his instincts of honesty revolted. No, whatever +happened, he would preserve his integrity. His wife was right. +Always she had influenced his better side. At that moment, +Magnus's repugnance of the proposed political campaign was at its +pitch of intensity. He wondered how he had ever allowed himself +to so much as entertain the idea of joining with the others. +Now, he would wrench free, would, in a single instant of power, +clear himself of all compromising relations. He turned to his +wife. Upon his lips trembled the promise she implored. But +suddenly there came to his mind the recollection of his new-made +pledge to Annixter. He had given his word that before arriving +at a decision he would have a last interview with him. To +Magnus, his given word was sacred. Though now he wanted to, he +could not as yet draw back, could not promise his wife that he +would decide to do right. The matter must be delayed a few days +longer. + +Lamely, he explained this to her. Annie Derrick made but little +response when he had done. She kissed his forehead and went out +of the room, uneasy, depressed, her mind thronging with vague +fears, leaving Magnus before his office desk, his head in his +hands, thoughtful, gloomy, assaulted by forebodings. + +Meanwhile, Annixter, Phelps, and Presley continued on their way +toward Bonneville. In a short time they had turned into the +County Road by the great watering-tank, and proceeded onward in +the shade of the interminable line of poplar trees, the wind- +break that stretched along the roadside bordering the Broderson +ranch. But as they drew near to Caraher's saloon and grocery, +about half a mile outside of Bonneville, they recognised Harran's +horse tied to the railing in front of it. Annixter left the +others and went in to see Harran. + +"Harran," he said, when the two had sat down on either side of +one of the small tables, "you've got to make up your mind one way +or another pretty soon. What are you going to do? Are you going +to stand by and see the rest of the Committee spending money by +the bucketful in this thing and keep your hands in your pockets? +If we win, you'll benefit just as much as the rest of us. I +suppose you've got some money of your own--you have, haven't you? +You are your father's manager, aren't you?" + +Disconcerted at Annixter's directness, Harran stammered an +affirmative, adding: + +"It's hard to know just what to do. It's a mean position for me, +Buck. I want to help you others, but I do want to play fair. I +don't know how to play any other way. I should like to have a +line from the Governor as to how to act, but there's no getting a +word out of him these days. He seems to want to let me decide +for myself ." + +"Well, look here," put in Annixter. "Suppose you keep out of the +thing till it's all over, and then share and share alike with the +Committee on campaign expenses." + +Harran fell thoughtful, his hands in his pockets, frowning +moodily at the toe of his boot. There was a silence. Then: + +"I don't like to go it blind," he hazarded. "I'm sort of sharing +the responsibility of what you do, then. I'm a silent partner. +And, then--I don't want to have any difficulties with the +Governor. We've always got along well together. He wouldn't +like it, you know, if I did anything like that." +"Say," exclaimed Annixter abruptly, "if the Governor says he will +keep his hands off, and that you can do as you please, will you +come in? For God's sake, let us ranchers act together for once. +Let's stand in with each other in ONE fight." + +Without knowing it, Annixter had touched the right spring. + +"I don't know but what you're right," Harran murmured vaguely. +His sense of discouragement, that feeling of what's-the-use, was +never more oppressive. All fair means had been tried. The wheat +grower was at last with his back to the wall. If he chose his +own means of fighting, the responsibility must rest upon his +enemies, not on himself. + +"It's the only way to accomplish anything," he continued, +"standing in with each other . . . well, . . . go ahead and see +what you can do. If the Governor is willing, I'll come in for my +share of the campaign fund." + +"That's some sense," exclaimed Annixter, shaking him by the hand. +"Half the fight is over already. We've got Disbrow you know; and +the next thing is to get hold of some of those rotten San +Francisco bosses. Osterman will----" But Harran interrupted him, +making a quick gesture with his hand. + +"Don't tell me about it," he said. "I don't want to know what +you and Osterman are going to do. If I did, I shouldn't come +in." + +Yet, for all this, before they said good-bye Annixter had +obtained Harran's promise that he would attend the next meeting +of the Committee, when Osterman should return from Los Angeles +and make his report. Harran went on toward Los Muertos. +Annixter mounted and rode into Bonneville. + +Bonneville was very lively at all times. It was a little city of +some twenty or thirty thousand inhabitants, where, as yet, the +city hall, the high school building, and the opera house were +objects of civic pride. It was well governed, beautifully clean, +full of the energy and strenuous young life of a new city. An +air of the briskest activity pervaded its streets and sidewalks. +The business portion of the town, centring about Main Street, was +always crowded. Annixter, arriving at the Post Office, found +himself involved in a scene of swiftly shifting sights and +sounds. Saddle horses, farm wagons--the inevitable Studebakers-- +buggies grey with the dust of country roads, buckboards with +squashes and grocery packages stowed under the seat, two-wheeled +sulkies and training carts, were hitched to the gnawed railings +and zinc-sheathed telegraph poles along the curb. Here and +there, on the edge of the sidewalk, were bicycles, wedged into +bicycle racks painted with cigar advertisements. Upon the +asphalt sidewalk itself, soft and sticky with the morning's heat, +was a continuous movement. Men with large stomachs, wearing +linen coats but no vests, laboured ponderously up and down. +Girls in lawn skirts, shirt waists, and garden hats, went to and +fro, invariably in couples, coming in and out of the drug store, +the grocery store, and haberdasher's, or lingering in front of +the Post Office, which was on a corner under the I.O.O.F. hall. +Young men, in shirt sleeves, with brown, wicker cuff-protectors +over their forearms, and pencils behind their ears, bustled in +front of the grocery store, anxious and preoccupied. A very old +man, a Mexican, in ragged white trousers and bare feet, sat on a +horse-block in front of the barber shop, holding a horse by a +rope around its neck. A Chinaman went by, teetering under the +weight of his market baskets slung on a pole across his +shoulders. In the neighbourhood of the hotel, the Yosemite +House, travelling salesmen, drummers for jewelry firms of San +Francisco, commercial agents, insurance men, well- dressed, +metropolitan, debonair, stood about cracking jokes, or hurried in +and out of the flapping white doors of the Yosemite barroom. The +Yosemite 'bus and City 'bus passed up the street, on the way from +the morning train, each with its two or three passengers. A very +narrow wagon, belonging to the Cole & Colemore Harvester Works, +went by, loaded with long strips of iron that made a horrible din +as they jarred over the unevenness of the pavement. The electric +car line, the city's boast, did a brisk business, its cars +whirring from end to end of the street, with a jangling of bells +and a moaning plaint of gearing. On the stone bulkheads of the +grass plat around the new City Hall, the usual loafers sat, +chewing tobacco, swapping stories. In the park were the +inevitable array of nursemaids, skylarking couples, and ragged +little boys. A single policeman, in grey coat and helmet, friend +and acquaintance of every man and woman in the town, stood by the +park entrance, leaning an elbow on the fence post, twirling his +club. + +But in the centre of the best business block of the street was a +three-story building of rough brown stone, set off with plate +glass windows and gold-lettered signs. One of these latter read, +"Pacific and Southwestern Railroad, Freight and Passenger +Office," while another much smaller, beneath the windows of the +second story bore the inscription, "P. and S. W. Land Office." + +Annixter hitched his horse to the iron post in front of this +building, and tramped up to the second floor, letting himself +into an office where a couple of clerks and bookkeepers sat at +work behind a high wire screen. One of these latter recognised +him and came forward. + +"Hello," said Annixter abruptly, scowling the while. "Is your +boss in? Is Ruggles in?" + +The bookkeeper led Annixter to the private office in an adjoining +room, ushering him through a door, on the frosted glass of which +was painted the name, "Cyrus Blakelee Ruggles." Inside, a man in +a frock coat, shoestring necktie, and Stetson hat, sat writing at +a roller-top desk. Over this desk was a vast map of the railroad +holdings in the country about Bonneville and Guadalajara, the +alternate sections belonging to the Corporation accurately +plotted. +Ruggles was cordial in his welcome of Annixter. He had a way of +fiddling with his pencil continually while he talked, scribbling +vague lines and fragments of words and names on stray bits of +paper, and no sooner had Annixter sat down than he had begun to +write, in full-bellied script, ANN ANN all over his blotting pad. + +"I want to see about those lands of mine--I mean of yours--of the +railroad's," Annixter commenced at once. "I want to know when I +can buy. I'm sick of fooling along like this." + +"Well, Mr. Annixter," observed Ruggles, writing a great L before +the ANN, and finishing it off with a flourishing D. "The lands"-- +he crossed out one of the N's and noted the effect with a hasty +glance--"the lands are practically yours. You have an option on +them indefinitely, and, as it is, you don't have to pay the +taxes." + +"Rot your option! I want to own them," Annixter declared. "What +have you people got to gain by putting off selling them to us. +Here this thing has dragged along for over eight years. When I +came in on Quien Sabe, the understanding was that the lands--your +alternate sections--were to be conveyed to me within a few +months." + +"The land had not been patented to us then," answered Ruggles. + +"Well, it has been now, I guess," retorted Annixter. + +"I'm sure I couldn't tell you, Mr. Annixter." + +Annixter crossed his legs weariedly. + +"Oh, what's the good of lying, Ruggles? You know better than to +talk that way to me." + +Ruggles's face flushed on the instant, but he checked his answer +and laughed instead. + +"Oh, if you know so much about it--" he observed. + +"Well, when are you going to sell to me?" + +"I'm only acting for the General Office, Mr. Annixter," returned +Ruggles. "Whenever the Directors are ready to take that matter +up, I'll be only too glad to put it through for you." + +"As if you didn't know. Look here, you're not talking to old +Broderson. Wake up, Ruggles. What's all this talk in +Genslinger's rag about the grading of the value of our lands this +winter and an advance in the price?" + +Ruggles spread out his hands with a deprecatory gesture. + +"I don't own the 'Mercury,'" he said. + +"Well, your company does." + +"If it does, I don't know anything about it." + +"Oh, rot! As if you and Genslinger and S. Behrman didn't run the +whole show down here. Come on, let's have it, Ruggles. What +does S. Behrman pay Genslinger for inserting that three-inch ad. +of the P. and S. W. in his paper? Ten thousand a year, hey?" + +"Oh, why not a hundred thousand and be done with it?" returned +the other, willing to take it as a joke. + +Instead of replying, Annixter drew his check-book from his inside +pocket. + +"Let me take that fountain pen of yours," he said. Holding the +book on his knee he wrote out a check, tore it carefully from the +stub, and laid it on the desk in front of Ruggles. + +"What's this?" asked Ruggles. + +"Three-fourths payment for the sections of railroad land included +in my ranch, based on a valuation of two dollars and a half per +acre. You can have the balance in sixty-day notes." + +Ruggles shook his head, drawing hastily back from the check as +though it carried contamination. + +"I can't touch it," he declared. "I've no authority to sell to +you yet." + +"I don't understand you people," exclaimed Annixter. "I offered +to buy of you the same way four years ago and you sang the same +song. Why, it isn't business. You lose the interest on your +money. Seven per cent. of that capital for four years--you can +figure it out. It's big money." + +"Well, then, I don't see why you're so keen on parting with it. +You can get seven per cent. the same as us." + +"I want to own my own land," returned Annixter. "I want to feel +that every lump of dirt inside my fence is my personal property. +Why, the very house I live in now--the ranch house--stands on +railroad ground." + +"But, you've an option" + +"I tell you I don't want your cursed option. I want ownership; +and it's the same with Magnus Derrick and old Broderson and +Osterman and all the ranchers of the county. We want to own our +land, want to feel we can do as we blame please with it. Suppose +I should want to sell Quien Sabe. I can't sell it as a whole +till I've bought of you. I can't give anybody a clear title. +The land has doubled in value ten times over again since I came +in on it and improved it. It's worth easily twenty an acre now. +But I can't take advantage of that rise in value so long as you +won't sell, so long as I don't own it. You're blocking me." + +"But, according to you, the railroad can't take advantage of the +rise in any case. According to you, you can sell for twenty +dollars, but we can only get two and a half." + +"Who made it worth twenty?" cried Annixter. "I've improved it up +to that figure. Genslinger seems to have that idea in his nut, +too. Do you people think you can hold that land, untaxed, for +speculative purposes until it goes up to thirty dollars and then +sell out to some one else--sell it over our heads? You and +Genslinger weren't in office when those contracts were drawn. +You ask your boss, you ask S. Behrman, he knows. The General +Office is pledged to sell to us in preference to any one else, +for two and a half." + +"Well," observed Ruggles decidedly, tapping the end of his pencil +on his desk and leaning forward to emphasise his words, "we're +not selling NOW. That's said and signed, Mr. Annixter." + +"Why not? Come, spit it out. What's the bunco game this time?" + +"Because we're not ready. Here's your check." + +"You won't take it?" + +"No." + +"I'll make it a cash payment, money down--the whole of it-- +payable to Cyrus Blakelee Ruggles, for the P. and S. W." + +"No." + +"Third and last time." + +"No." + +"Oh, go to the devil!" + +"I don't like your tone, Mr. Annixter," returned Ruggles, +flushing angrily. "I don't give a curse whether you like it or +not," retorted Annixter, rising and thrusting the check into his +pocket, "but never you mind, Mr. Ruggles, you and S. Behrman and +Genslinger and Shelgrim and the whole gang of thieves of you-- +you'll wake this State of California up some of these days by +going just one little bit too far, and there'll be an election of +Railroad Commissioners of, by, and for the people, that'll get a +twist of you, my bunco-steering friend--you and your backers and +cappers and swindlers and thimble-riggers, and smash you, lock, +stock, and barrel. That's my tip to you and be damned to you, +Mr. Cyrus Blackleg Ruggles." + +Annixter stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him, +and Ruggles, trembling with anger, turned to his desk and to the +blotting pad written all over with the words LANDS, TWENTY +DOLLARS, TWO AND A HALF, OPTION, and, over and over again, with +great swelling curves and flourishes, RAILROAD, RAILROAD, +RAILROAD. + +But as Annixter passed into the outside office, on the other side +of the wire partition he noted the figure of a man at the counter +in conversation with one of the clerks. There was something +familiar to Annixter's eye about the man's heavy built frame, his +great shoulders and massive back, and as he spoke to the clerk in +a tremendous, rumbling voice, Annixter promptly recognised Dyke. + +There was a meeting. Annixter liked Dyke, as did every one else +in and about Bonneville. He paused now to shake hands with the +discharged engineer and to ask about his little daughter, Sidney, +to whom he knew Dyke was devotedly attached. + +"Smartest little tad in Tulare County," asserted Dyke. "She's +getting prettier every day, Mr. Annixter. THERE'S a little tad +that was just born to be a lady. Can recite the whole of 'Snow +Bound' without ever stopping. You don't believe that, maybe, +hey? Well, it's true. She'll be just old enough to enter the +Seminary up at Marysville next winter, and if my hop business +pays two per cent. on the investment, there's where she's going +to go." + +"How's it coming on?" inquired Annixter. + +"The hop ranch? Prime. I've about got the land in shape, and +I've engaged a foreman who knows all about hops. I've been in +luck. Everybody will go into the business next year when they +see hops go to a dollar, and they'll overstock the market and +bust the price. But I'm going to get the cream of it now. I say +two per cent. Why, Lord love you, it will pay a good deal more +than that. It's got to. It's cost more than I figured to start +the thing, so, perhaps, I may have to borrow somewheres; but then +on such a sure game as this--and I do want to make something out +of that little tad of mine." + +"Through here?" inquired Annixter, making ready to move off. + +"In just a minute," answered Dyke. "Wait for me and I'll walk +down the street with you." + +Annixter grumbled that he was in a hurry, but waited, +nevertheless, while Dyke again approached the clerk. + +"I shall want some empty cars of you people this fall," he +explained. "I'm a hop-raiser now, and I just want to make sure +what your rates on hops are. I've been told, but I want to make +sure. Savvy?" There was a long delay while the clerk consulted +the tariff schedules, and Annixter fretted impatiently. Dyke, +growing uneasy, leaned heavily on his elbows, watching the clerk +anxiously. If the tariff was exorbitant, he saw his plans +brought to naught, his money jeopardised, the little tad, Sidney, +deprived of her education. He began to blame himself that he had +not long before determined definitely what the railroad would +charge for moving his hops. He told himself he was not much of a +business man; that he managed carelessly. + +"Two cents," suddenly announced the clerk with a certain surly +indifference. + +"Two cents a pound?" + +"Yes, two cents a pound--that's in car-load lots, of course. I +won't give you that rate on smaller consignments." + +"Yes, car-load lots, of course . . . two cents. Well, all +right." + +He turned away with a great sigh of relief. + +"He sure did have me scared for a minute," he said to Annixter, +as the two went down to the street, "fiddling and fussing so +long. Two cents is all right, though. Seems fair to me. That +fiddling of his was all put on. I know 'em, these railroad +heelers. He knew I was a discharged employee first off, and he +played the game just to make me seem small because I had to ask +favours of him. I don't suppose the General Office tips its +slavees off to act like swine, but there's the feeling through +the whole herd of them. 'Ye got to come to us. We let ye live +only so long as we choose, and what are ye going to do about it? +If ye don't like it, git out.'" + +Annixter and the engineer descended to the street and had a drink +at the Yosemite bar, and Annixter went into the General Store +while Dyke bought a little pair of red slippers for Sidney. +Before the salesman had wrapped them up, Dyke slipped a dime into +the toe of each with a wink at Annixter. + +"Let the little tad find 'em there," he said behind his hand in a +hoarse whisper. "That'll be one on Sid." + +"Where to now?" demanded Annixter as they regained the street. +"I'm going down to the Post Office and then pull out for the +ranch. Going my way?" + +Dyke hesitated in some confusion, tugging at the ends of his fine +blonde beard. + +"No, no. I guess I'll leave you here. I've got--got other +things to do up the street. So long." + +The two separated, and Annixter hurried through the crowd to the +Post Office, but the mail that had come in on that morning's +train was unusually heavy. It was nearly half an hour before it +was distributed. Naturally enough, Annixter placed all the blame +of the delay upon the railroad, and delivered himself of some +pointed remarks in the midst of the waiting crowd. He was +irritated to the last degree when he finally emerged upon the +sidewalk again, cramming his mail into his pockets. One cause of +his bad temper was the fact that in the bundle of Quien Sabe +letters was one to Hilma Tree in a man's handwriting. + +"Huh!" Annixter had growled to himself, "that pip Delaney. Seems +now that I'm to act as go-between for 'em. Well, maybe that +feemale girl gets this letter, and then, again, maybe she don't." + +But suddenly his attention was diverted. Directly opposite the +Post Office, upon the corner of the street, stood quite the best +business building of which Bonneville could boast. It was built +of Colusa granite, very solid, ornate, imposing. Upon the heavy +plate of the window of its main floor, in gold and red letters, +one read the words: "Loan and Savings Bank of Tulare County." It +was of this bank that S. Behrman was president. At the street +entrance of the building was a curved sign of polished brass, +fixed upon the angle of the masonry; this sign bore the name, "S. +Behrman," and under it in smaller letters were the words, "Real +Estate, Mortgages." + +As Annixter's glance fell upon this building, he was surprised to +see Dyke standing upon the curb in front of it, apparently +reading from a newspaper that he held in his hand. But Annixter +promptly discovered that he was not reading at all. From time to +time the former engineer shot a swift glance out of the corner of +his eye up and down the street. Annixter jumped at a conclusion. +An idea suddenly occurred to him. Dyke was watching to see if he +was observed--was waiting an opportunity when no one who knew him +should be in sight. Annixter stepped back a little, getting a +telegraph pole somewhat between him and the other. Very +interested, he watched what was going on. Pretty soon Dyke +thrust the paper into his pocket and sauntered slowly to the +windows of a stationery store, next the street entrance of S. +Behrman's offices. For a few seconds he stood there, his back +turned, seemingly absorbed in the display, but eyeing the street +narrowly nevertheless; then he turned around, gave a last look +about and stepped swiftly into the doorway by the great brass +sign. He disappeared. Annixter came from behind the telegraph +pole with a flush of actual shame upon his face. There had been +something so slinking, so mean, in the movements and manner of +this great, burly honest fellow of an engineer, that he could not +help but feel ashamed for him. Circumstances were such that a +simple business transaction was to Dyke almost culpable, a +degradation, a thing to be concealed. + +"Borrowing money of S. Behrman," commented Annixter, "mortgaging +your little homestead to the railroad, putting your neck in the +halter. Poor fool! The pity of it. Good Lord, your hops must +pay you big, now, old man." + +Annixter lunched at the Yosemite Hotel, and then later on, toward +the middle of the afternoon, rode out of the town at a canter by +the way of the Upper Road that paralleled the railroad tracks and +that ran diametrically straight between Bonneville and +Guadalajara. About half-way between the two places he overtook +Father Sarria trudging back to San Juan, his long cassock +powdered with dust. He had a wicker crate in one hand, and in +the other, in a small square valise, the materials for the Holy +Sacrament. Since early morning the priest had covered nearly +fifteen miles on foot, in order to administer Extreme Unction to +a moribund good-for-nothing, a greaser, half Indian, half +Portuguese, who lived in a remote corner of Osterman's stock +range, at the head of a canon there. But he had returned by way +of Bonneville to get a crate that had come for him from San +Diego. He had been notified of its arrival the day before. + +Annixter pulled up and passed the time of day with the priest. + +"I don't often get up your way," he said, slowing down his horse +to accommodate Sarria's deliberate plodding. Sarria wiped the +perspiration from his smooth, shiny face . + +"You? Well, with you it is different," he answered. "But there +are a great many Catholics in the county--some on your ranch. +And so few come to the Mission. At High Mass on Sundays, there +are a few--Mexicans and Spaniards from Guadalajara mostly; but +weekdays, for matins, vespers, and the like, I often say the +offices to an empty church--'the voice of one crying in the +wilderness.' You Americans are not good churchmen. Sundays you +sleep--you read the newspapers." + +"Well, there's Vanamee," observed Annixter. "I suppose he's +there early and late." + +Sarria made a sharp movement of interest. + +"Ah, Vanamee--a strange lad; a wonderful character, for all that. +If there were only more like him. I am troubled about him. You +know I am a very owl at night. I come and go about the Mission +at all hours. Within the week, three times I have seen Vanamee +in the little garden by the Mission, and at the dead of night. +He had come without asking for me. He did not see me. It was +strange. Once, when I had got up at dawn to ring for early +matins, I saw him stealing away out of the garden. He must have +been there all the night. He is acting queerly. He is pale; his +cheeks are more sunken than ever. There is something wrong with +him. I can't make it out. It is a mystery. Suppose you ask +him?" + +"Not I. I've enough to bother myself about. Vanamee is crazy in +the head. Some morning he will turn up missing again, and drop +out of sight for another three years. Best let him alone, +Sarria. He's a crank. How is that greaser of yours up on +Osterman's stock range?" + +"Ah, the poor fellow--the poor fellow," returned the other, the +tears coming to his eyes. "He died this morning--as you might +say, in my arms, painfully, but in the faith, in the faith. A +good fellow." + +"A lazy, cattle-stealing, knife-in-his-boot Dago." + +"You misjudge him. A really good fellow on better acquaintance." + +Annixter grunted scornfully. Sarria's kindness and good-will +toward the most outrageous reprobates of the ranches was +proverbial. He practically supported some half-dozen families +that lived in forgotten cabins, lost and all but inaccessible, in +the far corners of stock range and canyon. This particular +greaser was the laziest, the dirtiest, the most worthless of the +lot. But in Sarria's mind, the lout was an object of affection, +sincere, unquestioning. Thrice a week the priest, with a basket +of provisions--cold ham, a bottle of wine, olives, loaves of +bread, even a chicken or two--toiled over the interminable +stretch of country between the Mission and his cabin. Of late, +during the rascal's sickness, these visits had been almost daily. +Hardly once did the priest leave the bedside that he did not slip +a half-dollar into the palm of his wife or oldest daughter. And +this was but one case out of many. + +His kindliness toward animals was the same. A horde of mange- +corroded curs lived off his bounty, wolfish, ungrateful, often +marking him with their teeth, yet never knowing the meaning of a +harsh word. A burro, over-fed, lazy, incorrigible, browsed on +the hill back of the Mission, obstinately refusing to be +harnessed to Sarria's little cart, squealing and biting whenever +the attempt was made; and the priest suffered him, submitting to +his humour, inventing excuses for him, alleging that the burro +was foundered, or was in need of shoes, or was feeble from +extreme age. The two peacocks, magnificent, proud, cold-hearted, +resenting all familiarity, he served with the timorous, +apologetic affection of a queen's lady-in-waiting, resigned to +their disdain, happy if only they condescended to enjoy the grain +he spread for them. + +At the Long Trestle, Annixter and the priest left the road and +took the trail that crossed Broderson Creek by the clumps of +grey-green willows and led across Quien Sabe to the ranch house, +and to the Mission farther on. They were obliged to proceed in +single file here, and Annixter, who had allowed the priest to go +in front, promptly took notice of the wicker basket he carried. +Upon his inquiry, Sarria became confused. "It was a basket that +he had had sent down to him from the city." + +"Well, I know--but what's in it?" + +"Why--I'm sure--ah, poultry--a chicken or two." + +"Fancy breed?" + +"Yes, yes, that's it, a fancy breed." At the ranch house, where +they arrived toward five o'clock, Annixter insisted that the +priest should stop long enough for a glass of sherry. Sarria +left the basket and his small black valise at the foot of the +porch steps, and sat down in a rocker on the porch itself, +fanning himself with his broad-brimmed hat, and shaking the dust +from his cassock. Annixter brought out the decanter of sherry +and glasses, and the two drank to each other's health. + +But as the priest set down his glass, wiping his lips with a +murmur of satisfaction, the decrepit Irish setter that had +attached himself to Annixter's house came out from underneath the +porch, and nosed vigorously about the wicker basket. He upset +it. The little peg holding down the cover slipped, the basket +fell sideways, opening as it fell, and a cock, his head enclosed +in a little chamois bag such as are used for gold watches, +struggled blindly out into the open air. A second, similarly +hooded, followed. The pair, stupefied in their headgear, stood +rigid and bewildered in their tracks, clucking uneasily. Their +tails were closely sheared. Their legs, thickly muscled, and +extraordinarily long, were furnished with enormous cruel-looking +spurs. The breed was unmistakable. Annixter looked once at the +pair, then shouted with laughter. + +"'Poultry'--'a chicken or two'--'fancy breed'--ho! yes, I should +think so. Game cocks! Fighting cocks! Oh, you old rat! You'll +be a dry nurse to a burro, and keep a hospital for infirm +puppies, but you will fight game cocks. Oh, Lord! Why, Sarria, +this is as good a grind as I ever heard. There's the Spanish +cropping out, after all." + +Speechless with chagrin, the priest bundled the cocks into the +basket and catching up the valise, took himself abruptly away, +almost running till he had put himself out of hearing of +Annixter's raillery. And even ten minutes later, when Annixter, +still chuckling, stood upon the porch steps, he saw the priest, +far in the distance, climbing the slope of the high ground, in +the direction of the Mission, still hurrying on at a great pace, +his cassock flapping behind him, his head bent; to Annixter's +notion the very picture of discomfiture and confusion. + +As Annixter turned about to reenter the house, he found himself +almost face to face with Hilma Tree. She was just going in at +the doorway, and a great flame of the sunset, shooting in under +the eaves of the porch, enveloped her from her head, with its +thick, moist hair that hung low over her neck, to her slim feet, +setting a golden flash in the little steel buckles of her low +shoes. She had come to set the table for Annixter's supper. +Taken all aback by the suddenness of the encounter, Annixter +ejaculated an abrupt and senseless, "Excuse me." But Hilma, +without raising her eyes, passed on unmoved into the dining-room, +leaving Annixter trying to find his breath, and fumbling with the +brim of his hat, that he was surprised to find he had taken from +his head. Resolutely, and taking a quick advantage of his +opportunity, he followed her into the dining-room. + +"I see that dog has turned up," he announced with brisk +cheerfulness. "That Irish setter I was asking about." + +Hilma, a swift, pink flush deepening the delicate rose of her +cheeks, did not reply, except by nodding her head. She flung the +table-cloth out from under her arms across the table, spreading +it smooth, with quick little caresses of her hands. There was a +moment's silence. Then Annixter said: + +"Here's a letter for you." He laid it down on the table near +her, and Hilma picked it up. "And see here, Miss Hilma," +Annixter continued, "about that--this morning--I suppose you +think I am a first-class mucker. If it will do any good to +apologise, why, I will. I want to be friends with you. I made a +bad mistake, and started in the wrong way. I don't know much +about women people. I want you to forget about that--this +morning, and not think I am a galoot and a mucker. Will you do +it? Will you be friends with me?" + +Hilma set the plate and coffee cup by Annixter's place before +answering, and Annixter repeated his question. Then she drew a +deep, quick breath, the flush in her cheeks returning. + +"I think it was--it was so wrong of you," she murmured. "Oh! +you don't know how it hurt me. I cried--oh, for an hour." + +"Well, that's just it," returned Annixter vaguely, moving his +head uneasily. "I didn't know what kind of a girl you were--I +mean, I made a mistake. I thought it didn't make much +difference. I thought all feemales were about alike." + +"I hope you know now," murmured Hilma ruefully. "I've paid +enough to have you find out. I cried--you don't know. Why, it +hurt me worse than anything I can remember. I hope you know +now." +"Well, I do know now," he exclaimed. + +"It wasn't so much that you tried to do--what you did," answered +Hilma, the single deep swell from her waist to her throat rising +and falling in her emotion. "It was that you thought that you +could--that anybody could that wanted to--that I held myself so +cheap. Oh!" she cried, with a sudden sobbing catch in her +throat, "I never can forget it, and you don't know what it means +to a girl." + +"Well, that's just what I do want," he repeated. "I want you to +forget it and have us be good friends." + +In his embarrassment, Annixter could think of no other words. He +kept reiterating again and again during the pauses of the +conversation: + +"I want you to forget it. Will you? Will you forget it--that-- +this morning, and have us be good friends?" + +He could see that her trouble was keen. He was astonished that +the matter should be so grave in her estimation. After all, what +was it that a girl should be kissed? But he wanted to regain his +lost ground. + +"Will you forget it, Miss Hilma? I want you to like me." + +She took a clean napkin from the sideboard drawer and laid it +down by the plate. + +"I--I do want you to like me," persisted Annixter. "I want you +to forget all about this business and like me." + +Hilma was silent. Annixter saw the tears in her eyes. + +"How about that? Will you forget it? Will you--will--will you +LIKE me?" + +She shook her head. + +"No," she said. + +"No what? You won't like me? Is that it?" + +Hilma, blinking at the napkin through her tears, nodded to say, +Yes, that was it. Annixter hesitated a moment, frowning, +harassed and perplexed. + +"You don't like me at all, hey?" + +At length Hilma found her speech. In her low voice, lower and +more velvety than ever, she said: + +"No--I don't like you at all." + +Then, as the tears suddenly overpowered her, she dashed a hand +across her eyes, and ran from the room and out of doors. + +Annixter stood for a moment thoughtful, his protruding lower lip +thrust out, his hands in his pocket. + +"I suppose she'll quit now," he muttered. "Suppose she'll leave +the ranch--if she hates me like that. Well, she can go--that's +all--she can go. Fool feemale girl," he muttered between his +teeth, "petticoat mess." +He was about to sit down to his supper when his eye fell upon the +Irish setter, on his haunches in the doorway. There was an +expectant, ingratiating look on the dog's face. No doubt, he +suspected it was time for eating. + +"Get out--YOU!" roared Annixter in a tempest of wrath. + +The dog slunk back, his tail shut down close, his ears drooping, +but instead of running away, he lay down and rolled supinely upon +his back, the very image of submission, tame, abject, disgusting. +It was the one thing to drive Annixter to a fury. He kicked the +dog off the porch in a rolling explosion of oaths, and flung +himself down to his seat before the table, fuming and panting. + +"Damn the dog and the girl and the whole rotten business--and +now," he exclaimed, as a sudden fancied qualm arose in his +stomach, "now, it's all made me sick. Might have known it. Oh, +it only lacked that to wind up the whole day. Let her go, I +don't care, and the sooner the better." + +He countermanded the supper and went to bed before it was dark, +lighting his lamp, on the chair near the head of the bed, and +opening his "Copperfield" at the place marked by the strip of +paper torn from the bag of prunes. For upward of an hour he read +the novel, methodically swallowing one prune every time he +reached the bottom of a page. About nine o'clock he blew out the +lamp and, punching up his pillow, settled himself for the night. + +Then, as his mind relaxed in that strange, hypnotic condition +that comes just before sleep, a series of pictures of the day's +doings passed before his imagination like the roll of a +kinetoscope. + +First, it was Hilma Tree, as he had seen her in the dairy-house-- +charming, delicious, radiant of youth, her thick, white neck with +its pale amber shadows under the chin; her wide, open eyes rimmed +with fine, black lashes; the deep swell of her breast and hips, +the delicate, lustrous floss on her cheek, impalpable as the +pollen of a flower. He saw her standing there in the +scintillating light of the morning, her smooth arms wet with +milk, redolent and fragrant of milk, her whole, desirable figure +moving in the golden glory of the sun, steeped in a lambent +flame, saturated with it, glowing with it, joyous as the dawn +itself. + +Then it was Los Muertos and Hooven, the sordid little Dutchman, +grimed with the soil he worked in, yet vividly remembering a +period of military glory, exciting himself with recollections of +Gravelotte and the Kaiser, but contented now in the country of +his adoption, defining the Fatherland as the place where wife and +children lived. Then came the ranch house of Los Muertos, under +the grove of cypress and eucalyptus, with its smooth, gravelled +driveway and well-groomed lawns; Mrs. Derrick with her wide- +opened eyes, that so easily took on a look of uneasiness, of +innocence, of anxious inquiry, her face still pretty, her brown +hair that still retained so much of its brightness spread over +her chair back, drying in the sun; Magnus, erect as an officer of +cavalry, smooth-shaven, grey, thin-lipped, imposing, with his +hawk-like nose and forward-curling grey hair; Presley with his +dark face, delicate mouth and sensitive, loose lips, in corduroys +and laced boots, smoking cigarettes--an interesting figure, +suggestive of a mixed origin, morbid, excitable, melancholy, +brooding upon things that had no names. Then it was Bonneville, +with the gayety and confusion of Main Street, the whirring +electric cars, the zinc-sheathed telegraph poles, the buckboards +with squashes stowed under the seats; Ruggles in frock coat, +Stetson hat and shoe-string necktie, writing abstractedly upon +his blotting pad; Dyke, the engineer, big-boned. Powerful, deep- +voiced, good-natured, with his fine blonde beard and massive +arms, rehearsing the praises of his little daughter Sidney, +guided only by the one ambition that she should be educated at a +seminary, slipping a dime into the toe of her diminutive slipper, +then, later, overwhelmed with shame, slinking into S. Behrman's +office to mortgage his homestead to the heeler of the corporation +that had discharged him. By suggestion, Annixter saw S. Behrman, +too, fat, with a vast stomach, the check and neck meeting to form +a great, tremulous jowl, the roll of fat over his collar, +sprinkled with sparse, stiff hairs; saw his brown, round-topped +hat of varnished straw, the linen vest stamped with innumerable +interlocked horseshoes, the heavy watch chain, clinking against +the pearl vest buttons; invariably placid, unruffled, never +losing his temper, serene, unassailable, enthroned. + +Then, at the end of all, it was the ranch again, seen in a last +brief glance before he had gone to bed; the fecundated earth, +calm at last, nursing the emplanted germ of life, ruddy with the +sunset, the horizons purple, the small clamour of the day lapsing +into quiet, the great, still twilight, building itself, dome- +like, toward the zenith. The barn fowls were roosting in the +trees near the stable, the horses crunching their fodder in the +stalls, the day's work ceasing by slow degrees; and the priest, +the Spanish churchman, Father Sarria, relic of a departed regime, +kindly, benign, believing in all goodness, a lover of his fellows +and of dumb animals, yet, for all that, hurrying away in +confusion and discomfiture, carrying in one hand the vessels of +the Holy Communion and in the other a basket of game cocks. + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +It was high noon, and the rays of the sun, that hung poised +directly overhead in an intolerable white glory, fell straight as +plummets upon the roofs and streets of Guadalajara. The adobe +walls and sparse brick sidewalks of the drowsing town radiated +the heat in an oily, quivering shimmer. The leaves of the +eucalyptus trees around the Plaza drooped motionless, limp and +relaxed under the scorching, searching blaze. The shadows of +these trees had shrunk to their smallest circumference, +contracting close about the trunks. The shade had dwindled to +the breadth of a mere line. The sun was everywhere. The heat +exhaling from brick and plaster and metal met the heat that +steadily descended blanketwise and smothering, from the pale, +scorched sky. Only the lizards--they lived in chinks of the +crumbling adobe and in interstices of the sidewalk--remained +without, motionless, as if stuffed, their eyes closed to mere +slits, basking, stupefied with heat. At long intervals the +prolonged drone of an insect developed out of the silence, +vibrated a moment in a soothing, somnolent, long note, then +trailed slowly into the quiet again. Somewhere in the interior +of one of the 'dobe houses a guitar snored and hummed sleepily. +On the roof of the hotel a group of pigeons cooed incessantly +with subdued, liquid murmurs, very plaintive; a cat, perfectly +white, with a pink nose and thin, pink lips, dozed complacently +on a fence rail, full in the sun. In a corner of the Plaza three +hens wallowed in the baking hot dust their wings fluttering, +clucking comfortably. + +And this was all. A Sunday repose prevailed the whole moribund +town, peaceful, profound. A certain pleasing numbness, a sense +of grateful enervation exhaled from the scorching plaster. There +was no movement, no sound of human business. The faint hum of +the insect, the intermittent murmur of the guitar, the mellow +complainings of the pigeons, the prolonged purr of the white cat, +the contented clucking of the hens--all these noises mingled +together to form a faint, drowsy bourdon, prolonged, stupefying, +suggestive of an infinite quiet, of a calm, complacent life, +centuries old, lapsing gradually to its end under the gorgeous +loneliness of a cloudless, pale blue sky and the steady fire of +an interminable sun. + +In Solotari's Spanish-Mexican restaurant, Vanamee and Presley sat +opposite each other at one of the tables near the door, a bottle +of white wine, tortillas, and an earthen pot of frijoles between +them. They were the sole occupants of the place. It was the day +that Annixter had chosen for his barn-dance and, in consequence, +Quien Sabe was in fete and work suspended. Presley and Vanamee +had arranged to spend the day in each other's company, lunching +at Solotari's and taking a long tramp in the afternoon. For the +moment they sat back in their chairs, their meal all but +finished. Solotari brought black coffee and a small carafe of +mescal, and retiring to a corner of the room, went to sleep. + +All through the meal Presley had been wondering over a certain +change he observed in his friend. He looked at him again. + +Vanamee's lean, spare face was of an olive pallor. His long, +black hair, such as one sees in the saints and evangelists of the +pre-Raphaelite artists, hung over his ears. Presley again +remarked his pointed beard, black and fine, growing from the +hollow cheeks. He looked at his face, a face like that of a +young seer, like a half-inspired shepherd of the Hebraic legends, +a dweller in the wilderness, gifted with strange powers. He was +dressed as when Presley had first met him, herding his sheep, in +brown canvas overalls, thrust into top boots; grey flannel shirt, +open at the throat, showing the breast ruddy with tan; the waist +encircled with a cartridge belt, empty of cartridges. + +But now, as Presley took more careful note of him, he was +surprised to observe a certain new look in Vanamee's deep-set +eyes. He remembered now that all through the morning Vanamee had +been singularly reserved. He was continually drifting into +reveries, abstracted, distrait. Indubitably, something of moment +had happened. + +At length Vanamee spoke. Leaning back in his chair, his thumbs +in his belt, his bearded chin upon his breast, his voice was the +even monotone of one speaking in his sleep. + +He told Presley in a few words what had happened during the first +night he had spent in the garden of the old Mission, of the +Answer, half-fancied, half-real, that had come to him. + +"To no other person but you would I speak of this," he said, "but +you, I think, will understand--will be sympathetic, at least, and +I feel the need of unburdening myself of it to some one. At +first I would not trust my own senses. I was sure I had deceived +myself, but on a second night it happened again. Then I was +afraid--or no, not afraid, but disturbed--oh, shaken to my very +heart's core. I resolved to go no further in the matter, never +again to put it to test. For a long time I stayed away from the +Mission, occupying myself with my work, keeping it out of my +mind. But the temptation was too strong. One night I found +myself there again, under the black shadow of the pear trees +calling for Angele, summoning her from out the dark, from out the +night. This time the Answer was prompt, unmistakable. I cannot +explain to you what it was, nor how it came to me, for there was +no sound. I saw absolutely nothing but the empty night. There +was no moon. But somewhere off there over the little valley, far +off, the darkness was troubled; that ME that went out upon my +thought--out from the Mission garden, out over the valley, +calling for her, searching for her, found, I don't know what, but +found a resting place--a companion. Three times since then I +have gone to the Mission garden at night. Last night was the +third time." + +He paused, his eyes shining with excitement. Presley leaned +forward toward him, motionless with intense absorption. + +"Well--and last night," he prompted. + +Vanamee stirred in his seat, his glance fell, he drummed an +instant upon the table. + +"Last night," he answered, "there was--there was a change. The +Answer was--" he drew a deep breath--"nearer." + +"You are sure?" + +The other smiled with absolute certainty. + +"It was not that I found the Answer sooner, easier. I could not +be mistaken. No, that which has troubled the darkness, that +which has entered into the empty night--is coming nearer to me-- +physically nearer, actually nearer." + +His voice sank again. His face like the face of younger +prophets, the seers, took on a half-inspired expression. He +looked vaguely before him with unseeing eyes. + +"Suppose," he murmured, "suppose I stand there under the pear +trees at night and call her again and again, and each time the +Answer comes nearer and nearer and I wait until at last one +night, the supreme night of all, she--she----" + +Suddenly the tension broke. With a sharp cry and a violent +uncertain gesture of the hand Vanamee came to himself. + +"Oh," he exclaimed, "what is it? Do I dare? What does it mean? +There are times when it appals me and there are times when it +thrills me with a sweetness and a happiness that I have not known +since she died. The vagueness of it! How can I explain it to +you, this that happens when I call to her across the night--that +faint, far-off, unseen tremble in the darkness, that intangible, +scarcely perceptible stir. Something neither heard nor seen, +appealing to a sixth sense only. Listen, it is something like +this: On Quien Sabe, all last week, we have been seeding the +earth. The grain is there now under the earth buried in the +dark, in the black stillness, under the clods. Can you imagine +the first--the very first little quiver of life that the grain of +wheat must feel after it is sown, when it answers to the call of +the sun, down there in the dark of the earth, blind, deaf; the +very first stir from the inert, long, long before any physical +change has occurred,--long before the microscope could discover +the slightest change,--when the shell first tightens with the +first faint premonition of life? Well, it is something as +illusive as that." He paused again, dreaming, lost in a reverie, +then, just above a whisper, murmured: + +"'That which thou sowest is not quickened except it die,' . . . +and she, Angele . . . died." + +"You could not have been mistaken?" said Presley. "You were sure +that there was something? Imagination can do so much and the +influence of the surroundings was strong. How impossible it +would be that anything SHOULD happen. And you say you heard +nothing, saw nothing." + +"I believe," answered Vanamee, "in a sixth sense, or, rather, a +whole system of other unnamed senses beyond the reach of our +understanding. People who live much alone and close to nature +experience the sensation of it. Perhaps it is something +fundamental that we share with plants and animals. The same +thing that sends the birds south long before the first colds, the +same thing that makes the grain of wheat struggle up to meet the +sun. And this sense never deceives. You may see wrong, hear +wrong, but once touch this sixth sense and it acts with absolute +fidelity, you are certain. No, I hear nothing in the Mission +garden. I see nothing, nothing touches me, but I am CERTAIN for +all that." + +Presley hesitated for a moment, then he asked: + +"Shall you go back to the garden again? Make the test again?" +"I don't know." + +"Strange enough," commented Presley, wondering. + +Vanamee sank back in his chair, his eyes growing vacant again: + +"Strange enough," he murmured. + +There was a long silence. Neither spoke nor moved. There, in +that moribund, ancient town, wrapped in its siesta, flagellated +with heat, deserted, ignored, baking in a noon-day silence, these +two strange men, the one a poet by nature, the other by training, +both out of tune with their world, dreamers, introspective, +morbid, lost and unfamiliar at that end-of-the-century time, +searching for a sign, groping and baffled amidst the perplexing +obscurity of the Delusion, sat over empty wine glasses, silent +with the pervading silence that surrounded them, hearing only the +cooing of doves and the drone of bees, the quiet so profound, +that at length they could plainly distinguish at intervals the +puffing and coughing of a locomotive switching cars in the +station yard of Bonneville. + +It was, no doubt, this jarring sound that at length roused +Presley from his lethargy. The two friends rose; Solotari very +sleepily came forward; they paid for the luncheon, and stepping +out into the heat and glare of the streets of the town, passed on +through it and took the road that led northward across a corner +of Dyke's hop fields. They were bound for the hills in the +northeastern corner of Quien Sabe. It was the same walk which +Presley had taken on the previous occasion when he had first met +Vanamee herding the sheep. This encompassing detour around the +whole country-side was a favorite pastime of his and he was +anxious that Vanamee should share his pleasure in it. + +But soon after leaving Guadalajara, they found themselves upon +the land that Dyke had bought and upon which he was to raise his +famous crop of hops. Dyke's house was close at hand, a very +pleasant little cottage, painted white, with green blinds and +deep porches, while near it and yet in process of construction, +were two great storehouses and a drying and curing house, where +the hops were to be stored and treated. All about were evidences +that the former engineer had already been hard at work. The +ground had been put in readiness to receive the crop and a +bewildering, innumerable multitude of poles, connected with a +maze of wire and twine, had been set out. Farther on at a turn +of the road, they came upon Dyke himself, driving a farm wagon +loaded with more poles. He was in his shirt sleeves, his +massive, hairy arms bare to the elbow, glistening with sweat, red +with heat. In his bell-like, rumbling voice, he was calling to +his foreman and a boy at work in stringing the poles together. +At sight of Presley and Vanamee he hailed them jovially, +addressing them as "boys," and insisting that they should get +into the wagon with him and drive to the house for a glass of +beer. His mother had only the day before returned from +Marysville, where she had been looking up a seminary for the +little tad. She would be delighted to see the two boys; besides, +Vanamee must see how the little tad had grown since he last set +eyes on her; wouldn't know her for the same little girl; and the +beer had been on ice since morning. Presley and Vanamee could +not well refuse. + +They climbed into the wagon and jolted over the uneven ground +through the bare forest of hop-poles to the house. Inside they +found Mrs. Dyke, an old lady with a very gentle face, who wore a +cap and a very old-fashioned gown with hoop skirts, dusting the +what-not in a corner of the parlor. The two men were presented +and the beer was had from off the ice. + +"Mother," said Dyke, as he wiped the froth from his great blond +beard, "ain't Sid anywheres about? I want Mr. Vanamee to see how +she has grown. Smartest little tad in Tulare County, boys. Can +recite the whole of 'Snow Bound,' end to end, without skipping or +looking at the book. Maybe you don't believe that. Mother, +ain't I right--without skipping a line, hey?" + +Mrs. Dyke nodded to say that it was so, but explained that Sidney +was in Guadalajara. In putting on her new slippers for the first +time the morning before, she had found a dime in the toe of one +of them and had had the whole house by the ears ever since till +she could spend it. + +"Was it for licorice to make her licorice water?" inquired Dyke +gravely. + +"Yes," said Mrs. Dyke. "I made her tell me what she was going +to get before she went, and it was licorice." + +Dyke, though his mother protested that he was foolish and that +Presley and Vanamee had no great interest in "young ones," +insisted upon showing the visitors Sidney's copy-books. They +were monuments of laborious, elaborate neatness, the trite +moralities and ready-made aphorisms of the philanthropists and +publicists, repeated from page to page with wearying insistence. +"I, too, am an American Citizen. S. D.," "As the Twig is Bent +the Tree is Inclined," "Truth Crushed to Earth Will Rise Again," +"As for Me, Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death," and last of all, a +strange intrusion amongst the mild, well-worn phrases, two +legends. "My motto--Public Control of Public Franchises," and " +The P. and S. W. is an Enemy of the State." + +"I see," commented Presley, "you mean the little tad to +understand 'the situation' early." + +"I told him he was foolish to give that to Sid to copy," said +Mrs. Dyke, with indulgent remonstrance. "What can she understand +of public franchises?" + +"Never mind," observed Dyke, "she'll remember it when she grows +up and when the seminary people have rubbed her up a bit, and +then she'll begin to ask questions and understand. And don't you +make any mistake, mother," he went on, "about the little tad not +knowing who her dad's enemies are. What do you think, boys? +Listen, here. Precious little I've ever told her of the railroad +or how I was turned off, but the other day I was working down by +the fence next the railroad tracks and Sid was there. She'd +brought her doll rags down and she was playing house behind a +pile of hop poles. Well, along comes a through freight--mixed +train from Missouri points and a string of empties from New +Orleans,--and when it had passed, what do you suppose the tad +did? SHE didn't know I was watching her. She goes to the fence +and spits a little spit after the caboose and puts out her little +head and, if you'll believe me, HISSES at the train; and mother +says she does that same every time she sees a train go by, and +never crosses the tracks that she don't spit her little spit on +'em. What do you THINK of THAT?" + +"But I correct her every time," protested Mrs. Dyke seriously. +"Where she picked up the trick of hissing I don't know. No, it's +not funny. It seems dreadful to see a little girl who's as sweet +and gentle as can be in every other way, so venomous. She says +the other little girls at school and the boys, too, are all the +same way. Oh, dear," she sighed, "why will the General Office be +so unkind and unjust? Why, I couldn't be happy, with all the +money in the world, if I thought that even one little child hated +me--hated me so that it would spit and hiss at me. And it's not +one child, it's all of them, so Sidney says; and think of all the +grown people who hate the road, women and men, the whole county, +the whole State, thousands and thousands of people. Don't the +managers and the directors of the road ever think of that? Don't +they ever think of all the hate that surrounds them, everywhere, +everywhere, and the good people that just grit their teeth when +the name of the road is mentioned? Why do they want to make the +people hate them? No," she murmured, the tears starting to her +eyes, "No, I tell you, Mr. Presley, the men who own the railroad +are wicked, bad-hearted men who don't care how much the poor +people suffer, so long as the road makes its eighteen million a +year. They don't care whether the people hate them or love them, +just so long as they are afraid of them. It's not right and God +will punish them sooner or later." + +A little after this the two young men took themselves away, Dyke +obligingly carrying them in the wagon as far as the gate that +opened into the Quien Sabe ranch. On the way, Presley referred +to what Mrs. Dyke had said and led Dyke, himself, to speak of the +P. and S. W. + +"Well," Dyke said, "it's like this, Mr. Presley. I, personally, +haven't got the right to kick. With you wheat-growing people I +guess it's different, but hops, you see, don't count for much in +the State. It's such a little business that the road don't want +to bother themselves to tax it. It's the wheat growers that the +road cinches. The rates on hops ARE FAIR. I've got to admit +that; I was in to Bonneville a while ago to find out. It's two +cents a pound, and Lord love you, that's reasonable enough to +suit any man. No," he concluded, "I'm on the way to make money +now. The road sacking me as they did was, maybe, a good thing +for me, after all. It came just at the right time. I had a bit +of money put by and here was the chance to go into hops with the +certainty that hops would quadruple and quintuple in price inside +the year. No, it was my chance, and though they didn't mean it +by a long chalk, the railroad people did me a good turn when they +gave me my time--and the tad'll enter the seminary next fall." + +About a quarter of an hour after they had said goodbye to the +one-time engineer, Presley and Vanamee, tramping briskly along +the road that led northward through Quien Sabe, arrived at +Annixter's ranch house. At once they were aware of a vast and +unwonted bustle that revolved about the place. They stopped a +few moments looking on, amused and interested in what was going +forward. + +The colossal barn was finished. Its freshly white-washed sides +glared intolerably in the sun, but its interior was as yet +innocent of paint and through the yawning vent of the sliding +doors came a delicious odour of new, fresh wood and shavings. A +crowd of men--Annixter's farm hands--were swarming all about it. +Some were balanced on the topmost rounds of ladders, hanging +festoons of Japanese lanterns from tree to tree, and all across +the front of the barn itself. Mrs. Tree, her daughter Hilma and +another woman were inside the barn cutting into long strips bolt +after bolt of red, white and blue cambric and directing how these +strips should be draped from the ceiling and on the walls; +everywhere resounded the tapping of tack hammers. A farm wagon +drove up loaded to overflowing with evergreens and with great +bundles of palm leaves, and these were immediately seized upon +and affixed as supplementary decorations to the tri-coloured +cambric upon the inside walls of the barn. Two of the larger +evergreen trees were placed on either side the barn door and +their tops bent over to form an arch. In the middle of this arch +it was proposed to hang a mammoth pasteboard escutcheon with gold +letters, spelling the word WELCOME. Piles of chairs, rented from +I.O.O.F. hall in Bonneville, heaped themselves in an apparently +hopeless entanglement on the ground; while at the far extremity +of the barn a couple of carpenters clattered about the impromptu +staging which was to accommodate the band. + +There was a strenuous gayety in the air; everybody was in the +best of spirits. Notes of laughter continually interrupted the +conversation on every hand. At every moment a group of men +involved themselves in uproarious horse-play. They passed +oblique jokes behind their hands to each other--grossly veiled +double-meanings meant for the women--and bellowed with laughter +thereat, stamping on the ground. The relations between the sexes +grew more intimate, the women and girls pushing the young fellows +away from their sides with vigorous thrusts of their elbows. It +was passed from group to group that Adela Vacca, a division +superintendent's wife, had lost her garter; the daughter of the +foreman of the Home ranch was kissed behind the door of the +dairy-house. + +Annixter, in execrable temper, appeared from time to time, +hatless, his stiff yellow hair in wild disorder. He hurried +between the barn and the ranch house, carrying now a wickered +demijohn, now a case of wine, now a basket of lemons and +pineapples. Besides general supervision, he had elected to +assume the responsibility of composing the punch--something +stiff, by jingo, a punch that would raise you right out of your +boots; a regular hairlifter. + +The harness room of the barn he had set apart for: himself and +intimates. He had brought a long table down from the house and +upon it had set out boxes of cigars, bottles of whiskey and of +beer and the great china bowls for the punch. It would be no +fault of his, he declared, if half the number of his men friends +were not uproarious before they left. His barn dance would be +the talk of all Tulare County for years to come. For this one +day he had resolved to put all thoughts of business out of his +head. For the matter of that, things were going well enough. +Osterman was back from Los Angeles with a favourable report as to +his affair with Disbrow and Darrell. There had been another +meeting of the committee. Harran Derrick had attended. Though +he had taken no part in the discussion, Annixter was satisfied. +The Governor had consented to allow Harran to "come in," if he so +desired, and Harran had pledged himself to share one-sixth of the +campaign expenses, providing these did not exceed a certain +figure. + +As Annixter came to the door of the barn to shout abuse at the +distraught Chinese cook who was cutting up lemons in the kitchen, +he caught sight of Presley and Vanamee and hailed them. + +"Hello, Pres," he called. "Come over here and see how she +looks;" he indicated the barn with a movement of his head. +"Well, we're getting ready for you tonight," he went on as the +two friends came up. "But how we are going to get straightened +out by eight o'clock I don't know. Would you believe that pip +Caraher is short of lemons--at this last minute and I told him +I'd want three cases of 'em as much as a month ago, and here, +just when I want a good lively saddle horse to get around on, +somebody hikes the buckskin out the corral. STOLE her, by jingo. +I'll have the law on that thief if it breaks me--and a sixty- +dollar saddle 'n' head-stall gone with her; and only about half +the number of Jap lanterns that I ordered have shown up and not +candles enough for those. It's enough to make a dog sick. +There's nothing done that you don't do yourself, unless you stand +over these loafers with a club. I'm sick of the whole business-- +and I've lost my hat; wish to God I'd never dreamed of givin' +this rotten fool dance. Clutter the whole place up with a lot of +feemales. I sure did lose my presence of mind when I got THAT +idea." + +Then, ignoring the fact that it was he, himself, who had called +the young men to him, he added: + +"Well, this is my busy day. Sorry I can't stop and talk to you +longer." + +He shouted a last imprecation at the Chinaman and turned back +into the barn. Presley and Vanamee went on, but Annixter, as he +crossed the floor of the barn, all but collided with Hilma Tree, +who came out from one of the stalls, a box of candles in her +arms. + +Gasping out an apology, Annixter reentered the harness room, +closing the door behind him, and forgetting all the +responsibility of the moment, lit a cigar and sat down in one of +the hired chairs, his hands in his pockets, his feet on the +table, frowning thoughtfully through the blue smoke. + +Annixter was at last driven to confess to himself that he could +not get the thought of Hilma Tree out of his mind. Finally she +had "got a hold on him." The thing that of all others he most +dreaded had happened. A feemale girl had got a hold on him, and +now there was no longer for him any such thing as peace of mind. +The idea of the young woman was with him continually. He went to +bed with it; he got up with it. At every moment of the day he +was pestered with it. It interfered with his work, got mixed up +in his business. What a miserable confession for a man to make; +a fine way to waste his time. Was it possible that only the +other day he had stood in front of the music store in Bonneville +and seriously considered making Hilma a present of a music-box? +Even now, the very thought of it made him flush with shame, and +this after she had told him plainly that she did not like him. +He was running after her--he, Annixter! He ripped out a furious +oath, striking the table with his boot heel. Again and again he +had resolved to put the whole affair from out his mind. Once he +had been able to do so, but of late it was becoming harder and +harder with every successive day. He had only to close his eyes +to see her as plain as if she stood before him; he saw her in a +glory of sunlight that set a fine tinted lustre of pale carnation +and gold on the silken sheen of her white skin, her hair sparkled +with it, her thick, strong neck, sloping to her shoulders with +beautiful, full curves, seemed to radiate the light; her eyes, +brown, wide, innocent in expression, disclosing the full disc of +the pupil upon the slightest provocation, flashed in this +sunlight like diamonds. + +Annixter was all bewildered. With the exception of the timid +little creature in the glove-cleaning establishment in +Sacramento, he had had no acquaintance with any woman. His world +was harsh, crude, a world of men only--men who were to be +combatted, opposed--his hand was against nearly every one of +them. Women he distrusted with the instinctive distrust of the +overgrown schoolboy. Now, at length, a young woman had come into +his life. Promptly he was struck with discomfiture, annoyed +almost beyond endurance, harassed, bedevilled, excited, made +angry and exasperated. He was suspicious of the woman, yet +desired her, totally ignorant of how to approach her, hating the +sex, yet drawn to the individual, confusing the two emotions, +sometimes even hating Hilma as a result of this confusion, but at +all times disturbed, vexed, irritated beyond power of expression. + +At length, Annixter cast his cigar from him and plunged again +into the work of the day. The afternoon wore to evening, to the +accompaniment of wearying and clamorous endeavour. In some +unexplained fashion, the labour of putting the great barn in +readiness for the dance was accomplished; the last bolt of +cambric was hung in place from the rafters. The last evergreen +tree was nailed to the joists of the walls; the last lantern +hung, the last nail driven into the musicians' platform. The sun +set. There was a great scurry to have supper and dress. +Annixter, last of all the other workers, left the barn in the +dusk of twilight. He was alone; he had a saw under one arm, a +bag of tools was in his hand. He was in his shirt sleeves and +carried his coat over his shoulder; a hammer was thrust into one +of his hip pockets. He was in execrable temper. The day's work +had fagged him out. He had not been able to find his hat. + +"And the buckskin with sixty dollars' worth of saddle gone, too," +he groaned. "Oh, ain't it sweet?" + +At his house, Mrs. Tree had set out a cold supper for him, the +inevitable dish of prunes serving as dessert. After supper +Annixter bathed and dressed. He decided at the last moment to +wear his usual town-going suit, a sack suit of black, made by a +Bonneville tailor. But his hat was gone. There were other hats +he might have worn, but because this particular one was lost he +fretted about it all through his dressing and then decided to +have one more look around the barn for it. + +For over a quarter of an hour he pottered about the barn, going +from stall to stall, rummaging the harness room and feed room, +all to no purpose. At last he came out again upon the main +floor, definitely giving up the search, looking about him to see +if everything was in order. + +The festoons of Japanese lanterns in and around the, barn were +not yet lighted, but some half-dozen lamps, with great, tin +reflectors, that hung against the walls, were burning low. A +dull half light pervaded the vast interior, hollow, echoing, +leaving the corners and roof thick with impenetrable black +shadows. The barn faced the west and through the open sliding +doors was streaming a single bright bar from the after-glow, +incongruous and out of all harmony with the dull flare of the +kerosene lamps. + +As Annixter glanced about him, he saw a figure step briskly out +of the shadows of one corner of the building, pause for the +fraction of one instant in the bar of light, then, at sight of +him, dart back again. There was a sound of hurried footsteps. + +Annixter, with recollections of the stolen buckskin in his mind, +cried out sharply: + +"Who's there?" + +There was no answer. In a second his pistol was in his hand. + +"Who's there? Quick, speak up or I'll shoot." + +"No, no, no, don't shoot," cried an answering voice. "Oh, be +careful. It's I--Hilma Tree." + +Annixter slid the pistol into his pocket with a great qualm of +apprehension. He came forward and met Hilma in the doorway. + +"Good Lord," he murmured, "that sure did give me a start. If I +HAD shot----" + +Hilma stood abashed and confused before him. She was dressed in +a white organdie frock of the most rigorous simplicity and wore +neither flower nor ornament. The severity of her dress made her +look even larger than usual, and even as it was her eyes were on +a level with Annixter's. There was a certain fascination in the +contradiction of stature and character of Hilma--a great girl, +half-child as yet, but tall as a man for all that. + +There was a moment's awkward silence, then Hilma explained: + +"I--I came back to look for my hat. I thought I left it here +this afternoon." + +"And I was looking for my hat," cried Annixter. "Funny enough, +hey?" + +They laughed at this as heartily as children might have done. +The constraint of the situation was a little relaxed and +Annixter, with sudden directness, glanced sharply at the young +woman and demanded: + +"Well, Miss Hilma, hate me as much as ever?" + +"Oh, no, sir," she answered, "I never said I hated you." + +"Well,--dislike me, then; I know you said that." + +"I--I disliked what you did--TRIED to do. It made me angry and +it hurt me. I shouldn't have said what I did that time, but it +was your fault." + +"You mean you shouldn't have said you didn't like me?" asked +Annixter. "Why?" + +"Well, well,--I don't--I don't DISlike anybody," admitted Hilma. + +"Then I can take it that you don't dislike ME? Is that it?" + +"I don't dislike anybody," persisted Hilma. + +"Well, I asked you more than that, didn't I?" queried Annixter +uneasily. "I asked you to like me, remember, the other day. I'm +asking you that again, now. I want you to like me." + +Hilma lifted her eyes inquiringly to his. In her words was an +unmistakable ring of absolute sincerity. Innocently she +inquired: + +"Why?" + +Annixter was struck speechless. In the face of such candour, +such perfect ingenuousness, he was at a loss for any words. + +"Well--well," he stammered, "well--I don't know," he suddenly +burst out. "That is," he went on, groping for his wits, "I can't +quite say why." The idea of a colossal lie occurred to him, a +thing actually royal. + +"I like to have the people who are around me like me," he +declared. "I--I like to be popular, understand? Yes, that's +it," he continued, more reassured. "I don't like the idea of any +one disliking me. That's the way I am. It's my nature." + +"Oh, then," returned Hilma, "you needn't bother. No, I don't +dislike you." + +"Well, that's good," declared Annixter judicially. "That's good. +But hold on," he interrupted, "I'm forgetting. It's not enough +to not dislike me. I want you to like me. How about THAT?" + +Hilma paused for a moment, glancing vaguely out of the doorway +toward the lighted window of the dairy-house, her head tilted. + +"I don't know that I ever thought about that," she said. + +"Well, think about it now," insisted Annixter. + +"But I never thought about liking anybody particularly," she +observed. "It's because I like everybody, don't you see?" + +"Well, you've got to like some people more than other people," +hazarded Annixter, "and I want to be one of those 'some people,' +savvy? Good Lord, I don't know how to say these fool things. I +talk like a galoot when I get talking to feemale girls and I +can't lay my tongue to anything that sounds right. It isn't my +nature. And look here, I lied when I said I liked to have people +like me--to be popular. Rot! I don't care a curse about +people's opinions of me. But there's a few people that are more +to me than most others--that chap Presley, for instance--and +those people I DO want to have like me. What they think counts. +Pshaw! I know I've got enemies; piles of them. I could name you +half a dozen men right now that are naturally itching to take a +shot at me. How about this ranch? Don't I know, can't I hear +the men growling oaths under their breath after I've gone by? +And in business ways, too," he went on, speaking half to himself, +"in Bonneville and all over the county there's not a man of them +wouldn't howl for joy if they got a chance to down Buck Annixter. +Think I care? Why, I LIKE it. I run my ranch to suit myself +and I play my game my own way. I'm a 'driver,' I know it, and a +'bully,' too. Oh, I know what they call me--'a brute beast, with +a twist in my temper that would rile up a new-born lamb,' and I'm +'crusty' and 'pig-headed' and 'obstinate.' They say all that, but +they've got to say, too, that I'm cleverer than any man-jack in +the running. There's nobody can get ahead of me." His eyes +snapped. "Let 'em grind their teeth. They can't 'down' me. +When I shut my fist there's not one of them can open it. No, not +with a CHISEL." He turned to Hilma again. "Well, when a man's +hated as much as that, it stands to reason, don't it, Miss Hilma, +that the few friends he has got he wants to keep? I'm not such +an entire swine to the people that know me best--that jackass, +Presley, for instance. I'd put my hand in the fire to do him a +real service. Sometimes I get kind of lonesome; wonder if you +would understand? It's my fault, but there's not a horse about +the place that don't lay his ears back when I get on him; there's +not a dog don't put his tail between his legs as soon as I come +near him. The cayuse isn't foaled yet here on Quien Sabe that +can throw me, nor the dog whelped that would dare show his teeth +at me. I kick that Irish setter every time I see him--but wonder +what I'd do, though, if he didn't slink so much, if he wagged his +tail and was glad to see me? So it all comes to this: I'd like +to have you--well, sort of feel that I was a good friend of yours +and like me because of it." + +The flame in the lamp on the wall in front of Hilma stretched +upward tall and thin and began to smoke. She went over to where +the lamp hung and, standing on tip-toe, lowered the wick. As she +reached her hand up, Annixter noted how the sombre, lurid red of +the lamp made a warm reflection on her smooth, round arm. + +"Do you understand?" he queried. + +"Yes, why, yes," she answered, turning around. "It's very good +of you to want to be a friend of mine. I didn't think so, +though, when you tried to kiss me. But maybe it's all right +since you've explained things. You see I'm different from you. +I like everybody to like me and I like to like everybody. It +makes one so much happier. You wouldn't believe it, but you +ought to try it, sir, just to see. It's so good to be good to +people and to have people good to you. And everybody has always +been so good to me. Mamma and papa, of course, and Billy, the +stableman, and Montalegre, the Portugee foreman, and the Chinese +cook, even, and Mr. Delaney--only he went away--and Mrs. Vacca +and her little----" + +"Delaney, hey?" demanded Annixter abruptly. "You and he were +pretty good friends, were you?" + +"Oh, yes," she answered. "He was just as GOOD to me. Every day +in the summer time he used to ride over to the Seed ranch back of +the Mission and bring me a great armful of flowers, the prettiest +things, and I used to pretend to pay him for them with dollars +made of cheese that I cut out of the cheese with a biscuit +cutter. It was such fun. We were the best of friends." + +"There's another lamp smoking," growled Annixter. "Turn it down, +will you?--and see that somebody sweeps this floor here. It's +all littered up with pine needles. I've got a lot to do. Good- +bye." + +"Good-bye, sir." + +Annixter returned to the ranch house, his teeth clenched, +enraged, his face flushed. + +"Ah," he muttered, "Delaney, hey? Throwing it up to me that I +fired him." His teeth gripped together more fiercely than ever. +"The best of friends, hey? By God, I'll have that girl yet. +I'll show that cow-puncher. Ain't I her employer, her boss? +I'll show her--and Delaney, too. It would be easy enough--and +then Delaney can have her--if he wants her--after me." + +An evil light flashing from under his scowl, spread over his +face. The male instincts of possession, unreasoned, treacherous, +oblique, came twisting to the surface. All the lower nature of +the man, ignorant of women, racked at one and the same time with +enmity and desire, roused itself like a hideous and abominable +beast. And at the same moment, Hilma returned to her house, +humming to herself as she walked, her white dress glowing with a +shimmer of faint saffron light in the last ray of the after-glow. + +A little after half-past seven, the first carry-all, bearing the +druggist of Bonneville and his women-folk, arrived in front of +the new barn. Immediately afterward an express wagon loaded down +with a swarming family of Spanish-Mexicans, gorgeous in red and +yellow colours, followed. Billy, the stableman, and his +assistant took charge of the teams, unchecking the horses and +hitching them to a fence back of the barn. Then Caraher, the +saloon-keeper, in "derby" hat, "Prince Albert" coat, pointed +yellow shoes and inevitable red necktie, drove into the yard on +his buckboard, the delayed box of lemons under the seat. It +looked as if the whole array of invited guests was to arrive in +one unbroken procession, but for a long half-hour nobody else +appeared. Annixter and Caraher withdrew to the harness room and +promptly involved themselves in a wrangle as to the make-up of +the famous punch. From time to time their voices could be heard +uplifted in clamorous argument. + +"Two quarts and a half and a cupful of chartreuse." + +"Rot, rot, I know better. Champagne straight and a dash of +brandy." + +The druggist's wife and sister retired to the feed room, where a +bureau with a swinging mirror had been placed for the convenience +of the women. The druggist stood awkwardly outside the door of +the feed room, his coat collar turned up against the draughts +that drifted through the barn, his face troubled, debating +anxiously as to the propriety of putting on his gloves. The +Spanish-Mexican family, a father, mother and five children and +sister-in-law, sat rigid on the edges of the hired chairs, +silent, constrained, their eyes lowered, their elbows in at their +sides, glancing furtively from under their eyebrows at the +decorations or watching with intense absorption young Vacca, son +of one of the division superintendents, who wore a checked coat +and white thread gloves and who paced up and down the length of +the barn, frowning, very important, whittling a wax candle over +the floor to make it slippery for dancing. + +The musicians arrived, the City Band of Bonneville--Annixter +having managed to offend the leader of the "Dirigo" Club +orchestra, at the very last moment, to such a point that he had +refused his services. These members of the City Band repaired at +once to their platform in the corner. At every instant they +laughed uproariously among themselves, joshing one of their +number, a Frenchman, whom they called "Skeezicks." Their +hilarity reverberated in a hollow, metallic roll among the +rafters overhead. The druggist observed to young Vacca as he +passed by that he thought them pretty fresh, just the same. + +"I'm busy, I'm very busy," returned the young man, continuing on +his way, still frowning and paring the stump of candle. + +"Two quarts 'n' a half. Two quarts 'n' a half." + +"Ah, yes, in a way, that's so; and then, again, in a way, it +ISN'T. I know better." + +All along one side of the barn were a row of stalls, fourteen of +them, clean as yet, redolent of new cut wood, the sawdust still +in the cracks of the flooring. Deliberately the druggist went +from one to the other, pausing contemplatively before each. He +returned down the line and again took up his position by the door +of the feed room, nodding his head judicially, as if satisfied. +He decided to put on his gloves. + +By now it was quite dark. Outside, between the barn and the +ranch houses one could see a group of men on step-ladders +lighting the festoons of Japanese lanterns. In the darkness, +only their faces appeared here and there, high above the ground, +seen in a haze of red, strange, grotesque. Gradually as the +multitude of lanterns were lit, the light spread. The grass +underfoot looked like green excelsior. Another group of men +invaded the barn itself, lighting the lamps and lanterns there. +Soon the whole place was gleaming with points of light. Young +Vacca, who had disappeared, returned with his pockets full of wax +candles. He resumed his whittling, refusing to answer any +questions, vociferating that he was busy. + +Outside there was a sound of hoofs and voices. More guests had +arrived. The druggist, seized with confusion, terrified lest he +had put on his gloves too soon, thrust his hands into his +pockets. It was Cutter, Magnus Derrick's division +superintendent, who came, bringing his wife and her two girl +cousins. They had come fifteen miles by the trail from the far +distant division house on "Four" of Los Muertos and had ridden on +horseback instead of driving. Mrs. Cutter could be heard +declaring that she was nearly dead and felt more like going to +bed than dancing. The two girl cousins, in dresses of dotted +Swiss over blue sateen, were doing their utmost to pacify her. +She could be heard protesting from moment to moment. One +distinguished the phrases "straight to my bed," "back nearly +broken in two," "never wanted to come in the first place." The +druggist, observing Cutter take a pair of gloves from Mrs. +Cutter's reticule, drew his hands from his pockets. + +But abruptly there was an interruption. In the musicians' corner +a scuffle broke out. A chair was overturned. There was a noise +of imprecations mingled with shouts of derision. Skeezicks, the +Frenchman, had turned upon the joshers. + +"Ah, no," he was heard to exclaim, "at the end of the end it is +too much. Kind of a bad canary--we will go to see about that. +Aha, let him close up his face before I demolish it with a good +stroke of the fist." + +The men who were lighting the lanterns were obliged to intervene +before he could be placated. + +Hooven and his wife and daughters arrived. Minna was carrying +little Hilda, already asleep, in her arms. Minna looked very +pretty, striking even, with her black hair, pale face, very red +lips and greenish-blue eyes. She was dressed in what had been +Mrs. Hooven's wedding gown, a cheap affair of "farmer's satin." +Mrs. Hooven had pendent earrings of imitation jet in her ears. +Hooven was wearing an old frock coat of Magnus Derrick's, the +sleeves too long, the shoulders absurdly too wide. He and Cutter +at once entered into an excited conversation as to the ownership +of a certain steer. + +"Why, the brand----" + +"Ach, Gott, der brendt," Hooven clasped his head, "ach, der +brendt, dot maks me laugh some laughs. Dot's goot--der brendt-- +doand I see um--shoor der boole mit der bleck star bei der vore- +head in der middle oaf. Any someones you esk tell you dot is +mein boole. You esk any someones. Der brendt? To hell mit der +brendt. You aindt got some memorie aboudt does ting I guess +nodt." + +"Please step aside, gentlemen," said young Vacca, who was still +making the rounds of the floor. + +Hooven whirled about. "Eh? What den," he exclaimed, still +excited, willing to be angry at any one for the moment. "Doand +you push soh, you. I tink berhapz you doand OWN dose barn, hey?" + +"I'm busy, I'm very busy." The young man pushed by with grave +preoccupation. + +"Two quarts 'n' a half. Two quarts 'n' a half." + +"I know better. That's all rot." + +But the barn was filling up rapidly. At every moment there was a +rattle of a newly arrived vehicle from outside. Guest after +guest appeared in the doorway, singly or in couples, or in +families, or in garrulous parties of five and six. Now it was +Phelps and his mother from Los Muertos, now a foreman from +Broderson's with his family, now a gayly apparelled clerk from a +Bonneville store, solitary and bewildered, looking for a place to +put his hat, now a couple of Spanish-Mexican girls from +Guadalajara with coquettish effects of black and yellow about +their dress, now a group of Osterman's tenants, Portuguese, +swarthy, with plastered hair and curled mustaches, redolent of +cheap perfumes. Sarria arrived, his smooth, shiny face +glistening with perspiration. He wore a new cassock and carried +his broad-brimmed hat under his arm. His appearance made quite a +stir. He passed from group to group, urbane, affable, shaking +hands right and left; he assumed a set smile of amiability which +never left his face the whole evening. + +But abruptly there was a veritable sensation. From out the +little crowd that persistently huddled about the doorway came +Osterman. He wore a dress-suit with a white waistcoat and patent +leather pumps--what a wonder! A little qualm of excitement +spread around the barn. One exchanged nudges of the elbow with +one's neighbour, whispering earnestly behind the hand. What +astonishing clothes! Catch on to the coat-tails! It was a +masquerade costume, maybe; that goat Osterman was such a josher, +one never could tell what he would do next. + +The musicians began to tune up. From their corner came a medley +of mellow sounds, the subdued chirps of the violins, the dull +bourdon of the bass viol, the liquid gurgling of the flageolet +and the deep-toned snarl of the big horn, with now and then a +rasping stridulating of the snare drum. A sense of gayety began +to spread throughout the assembly. At every moment the crowd +increased. The aroma of new-sawn timber and sawdust began to be +mingled with the feminine odour of sachet and flowers. There was +a babel of talk in the air--male baritone and soprano chatter-- +varied by an occasional note of laughter and the swish of stiffly +starched petticoats. On the row of chairs that went around three +sides of the wall groups began to settle themselves. For a long +time the guests huddled close to the doorway; the lower end of +the floor was crowded! the upper end deserted; but by degrees +the lines of white muslin and pink and blue sateen extended, +dotted with the darker figures of men in black suits. The +conversation grew louder as the timidity of the early moments +wore off. Groups at a distance called back and forth; +conversations were carried on at top voice. Once, even a whole +party hurried across the floor from one side of the barn to the +other. + +Annixter emerged from the harness room, his face red with +wrangling. He took a position to the right of the door, shaking +hands with newcomers, inviting them over and over again to cut +loose and whoop it along. Into the ears of his more intimate +male acquaintances he dropped a word as to punch and cigars in +the harness room later on, winking with vast intelligence. +Ranchers from remoter parts of the country appeared: Garnett, +from the Ruby rancho, Keast, from the ranch of the same name, +Gethings, of the San Pablo, Chattern, of the Bonanza, and others +and still others, a score of them--elderly men, for the most +part, bearded, slow of speech, deliberate, dressed in broadcloth. +Old Broderson, who entered with his wife on his arm, fell in with +this type, and with them came a certain Dabney, of whom nothing +but his name was known, a silent old man, who made no friends, +whom nobody knew or spoke to, who was seen only upon such +occasions as this, coming from no one knew where, going, no one +cared to inquire whither. + +Between eight and half-past, Magnus Derrick and his family were +seen. Magnus's entry caused no little impression. Some said: +"There's the Governor," and called their companions' attention to +the thin, erect figure, commanding, imposing, dominating all in +his immediate neighbourhood. Harran came with him, wearing a +cut-away suit of black. He was undeniably handsome, young and +fresh looking, his cheeks highly coloured, quite the finest +looking of all the younger men; blond, strong, with that certain +courtliness of manner that had always made him liked. He took +his mother upon his arm and conducted her to a seat by the side +of Mrs. Broderson. + +Annie Derrick was very pretty that evening. She was dressed in a +grey silk gown with a collar of pink velvet. Her light brown +hair that yet retained so much of its brightness was transfixed +by a high, shell comb, very Spanish. But the look of uneasiness +in her large eyes--the eyes of a young girl--was deepening every +day. The expression of innocence and inquiry which they so +easily assumed, was disturbed by a faint suggestion of aversion, +almost of terror. She settled herself in her place, in the +corner of the hall, in the rear rank of chairs, a little +frightened by the glare of lights, the hum of talk and the +shifting crowd, glad to be out of the way, to attract no +attention, willing to obliterate herself. + +All at once Annixter, who had just shaken hands with Dyke, his +mother and the little tad, moved abruptly in his place, drawing +in his breath sharply. The crowd around the great, wide-open +main door of the barn had somewhat thinned out and in the few +groups that still remained there he had suddenly recognised Mr. +and Mrs. Tree and Hilma, making their way towards some empty +seats near the entrance of the feed room. + +In the dusky light of the barn earlier in the evening, Annixter +had not been able to see Hilma plainly. Now, however, as she +passed before his eyes in the glittering radiance of the lamps +and lanterns, he caught his breath in astonishment. Never had +she appeared more beautiful in his eyes. It did not seem +possible that this was the same girl whom he saw every day in and +around the ranch house and dairy, the girl of simple calico +frocks and plain shirt waists, who brought him his dinner, who +made up his bed. Now he could not take his eyes from her. +Hilma, for the first time, was wearing her hair done high upon +her head. The thick, sweet-smelling masses, bitumen brown in the +shadows, corruscated like golden filaments in the light. Her +organdie frock was long, longer than any she had yet worn. It +left a little of her neck and breast bare and all of her arm. + +Annixter muttered an exclamation. Such arms! How did she manage +to keep them hid on ordinary occasions. Big at the shoulder, +tapering with delicious modulations to the elbow and wrist, +overlaid with a delicate, gleaming lustre. As often as she +turned her head the movement sent a slow undulation over her neck +and shoulders, the pale amber-tinted shadows under her chin, +coming and going over the creamy whiteness of the skin like the +changing moire of silk. The pretty rose colour of her cheek had +deepened to a pale carnation. Annixter, his hands clasped behind +him, stood watching. + +In a few moments Hilma was surrounded by a group of young men, +clamouring for dances. They came from all corners of the barn, +leaving the other girls precipitately, almost rudely. There +could be little doubt as to who was to be the belle of the +occasion. Hilma's little triumph was immediate, complete. +Annixter could hear her voice from time to time, its usual +velvety huskiness vibrating to a note of exuberant gayety. + +All at once the orchestra swung off into a march--the Grand +March. There was a great rush to secure "partners." Young +Vacca, still going the rounds, was pushed to one side. The gayly +apparelled clerk from the Bonneville store lost his head in the +confusion. He could not find his "partner." He roamed wildly +about the barn, bewildered, his eyes rolling. He resolved to +prepare an elaborate programme card on the back of an old +envelope. Rapidly the line was formed, Hilma and Harran Derrick +in the lead, Annixter having obstinately refused to engage in +either march, set or dance the whole evening. Soon the confused +shuffling of feet settled to a measured cadence; the orchestra +blared and wailed, the snare drum, rolling at exact intervals, +the cornet marking the time. It was half-past eight o'clock. + +Annixter drew a long breath: + +"Good," he muttered, "the thing is under way at last." + +Singularly enough, Osterman also refused to dance. The week +before he had returned from Los Angeles, bursting with the +importance of his mission. He had been successful. He had +Disbrow "in his pocket." He was impatient to pose before the +others of the committee as a skilful political agent, a +manipulator. He forgot his attitude of the early part of the +evening when he had drawn attention to himself with his wonderful +clothes. Now his comic actor's face, with its brownish-red +cheeks, protuberant ears and horizontal slit of a mouth, was +overcast with gravity. His bald forehead was seamed with the +wrinkles of responsibility. He drew Annixter into one of the +empty stalls and began an elaborate explanation, glib, voluble, +interminable, going over again in detail what he had reported to +the committee in outline. + +"I managed--I schemed--I kept dark--I lay low----" + +But Annixter refused to listen. + +"Oh, rot your schemes. There's a punch in the harness room that +will make the hair grow on the top of your head in the place +where the hair ought to grow. Come on, we'll round up some of +the boys and walk into it." + +They edged their way around the hall outside "The Grand March," +toward the harness room, picking up on their way Caraher, Dyke, +Hooven and old Broderson. Once in the harness room, Annixter +shot the bolt. + +"That affair outside," he observed, "will take care of itself, +but here's a little orphan child that gets lonesome without +company." + +Annixter began ladling the punch, filling the glasses. + +Osterman proposed a toast to Quien Sabe and the Biggest Barn. +Their elbows crooked in silence. Old Broderson set down his +glass, wiping his long beard and remarking: + +"That--that certainly is very--very agreeable. I remember a +punch I drank on Christmas day in '83, or no, it was '84--anyhow, +that punch--it was in Ukiah--'TWAS '83--" He wandered on +aimlessly, unable to stop his flow of speech, losing himself in +details, involving his talk in a hopeless maze of trivialities to +which nobody paid any attention. + +"I don't drink myself," observed Dyke, "but just a taste of that +with a lot of water wouldn't be bad for the little tad. She'd +think it was lemonade." He was about to mix a glass for Sidney, +but thought better of it at the last moment. + +"It's the chartreuse that's lacking," commented Caraher, lowering +at Annixter. The other flared up on the instant. + +"Rot, rot. I know better. In some punches it goes; and then, +again, in others it don't." + +But it was left to Hooven to launch the successful phrase: + +"Gesundheit," he exclaimed, holding out his second glass. After +drinking, he replaced it on the table with a long breath. "Ach +Gott!" he cried, "dat poonsch, say I tink dot poonsch mek some +demn goot vertilizer, hey?" + +Fertiliser! The others roared with laughter. + +"Good eye, Bismarck," commented Annixter. The name had a great +success. Thereafter throughout the evening the punch was +invariably spoken of as the "Fertiliser." Osterman, having spilt +the bottom of a glassful on the floor, pretended that he saw +shoots of grain coming up on the spot. Suddenly he turned upon +old Broderson. +"I'm bald, ain't I? Want to know how I lost my hair? Promise +you won't ask a single other question and I'll tell you. Promise +your word of honour." + +"Eh? What--wh--I--I don't understand. Your hair? Yes, I'll +promise. How did you lose it?" + +"It was bit off." + +The other gazed at him stupefied; his jaw dropped. The company +shouted, and old Broderson, believing he had somehow accomplished +a witticism, chuckled in his beard, wagging his head. But +suddenly he fell grave, struck with an idea. He demanded: + +"Yes--I know--but--but what bit it off?" + +"Ah," vociferated Osterman, "that's JUST what you promised not to +ask." + +The company doubled up with hilarity. Caraher leaned against the +door, holding his sides, but Hooven, all abroad, unable to +follow, gazed from face to face with a vacant grin, thinking it +was still a question of his famous phrase. + +"Vertilizer, hey? Dots some fine joke, hey? You bedt." + +What with the noise of their talk and laughter, it was some time +before Dyke, first of all, heard a persistent knocking on the +bolted door. He called Annixter's attention to the sound. +Cursing the intruder, Annixter unbolted and opened the door. But +at once his manner changed. + +"Hello. It's Presley. Come in, come in, Pres." + +There was a shout of welcome from the others. A spirit of +effusive cordiality had begun to dominate the gathering. +Annixter caught sight of Vanamee back of Presley, and waiving for +the moment the distinction of employer and employee, insisted +that both the friends should come in. + +"Any friend of Pres is my friend," he declared. + +But when the two had entered and had exchanged greetings, Presley +drew Annixter aside. + +"Vanamee and I have just come from Bonneville," he explained. +"We saw Delaney there. He's got the buckskin, and he's full of +bad whiskey and dago-red. You should see him; he's wearing all +his cow-punching outfit, hair trousers, sombrero, spurs and all +the rest of it, and he has strapped himself to a big revolver. +He says he wasn't invited to your barn dance but that he's coming +over to shoot up the place. He says you promised to show him off +Quien Sabe at the toe of your boot and that he's going to give +you the chance to-night!" +"Ah," commented Annixter, nodding his head, "he is, is he?" + +Presley was disappointed. Knowing Annixter's irascibility, he +had expected to produce a more dramatic effect. He began to +explain the danger of the business. Delaney had once knifed a +greaser in the Panamint country. He was known as a "bad" man. +But Annixter refused to be drawn. + +"All right," he said, "that's all right. Don't tell anybody +else. You might scare the girls off. Get in and drink." + +Outside the dancing was by this time in full swing. The +orchestra was playing a polka. Young Vacca, now at his fiftieth +wax candle, had brought the floor to the slippery surface of +glass. The druggist was dancing with one of the Spanish-Mexican +girls with the solemnity of an automaton, turning about and +about, always in the same direction, his eyes glassy, his teeth +set. Hilma Tree was dancing for the second time with Harran +Derrick. She danced with infinite grace. Her cheeks were bright +red, her eyes half-closed, and through her parted lips she drew +from time to time a long, tremulous breath of pure delight. The +music, the weaving colours, the heat of the air, by now a little +oppressive, the monotony of repeated sensation, even the pain of +physical fatigue had exalted all her senses. She was in a dreamy +lethargy of happiness. It was her "first ball." She could have +danced without stopping until morning. Minna Hooven and Cutter +were "promenading." Mrs. Hooven, with little Hilda already +asleep on her knees, never took her eyes from her daughter's +gown. As often as Minna passed near her she vented an energetic +"pst! pst!" The metal tip of a white draw string was showing +from underneath the waist of Minna's dress. Mrs. Hooven was on +the point of tears. + +The solitary gayly apparelled clerk from Bonneville was in a +fever of agitation. He had lost his elaborate programme card. +Bewildered, beside himself with trepidation, he hurried about the +room, jostled by the dancing couples, tripping over the feet of +those who were seated; he peered distressfully under the chairs +and about the floor, asking anxious questions. + +Magnus Derrick, the centre of a listening circle of ranchers-- +Garnett from the Ruby rancho, Keast from the ranch of the same +name, Gethings and Chattern of the San Pablo and Bonanza--stood +near the great open doorway of the barn, discussing the +possibility of a shortage in the world's wheat crop for the next +year. + +Abruptly the orchestra ceased playing with a roll of the snare +drum, a flourish of the cornet and a prolonged growl of the bass +viol. The dance broke up, the couples hurrying to their seats, +leaving the gayly apparelled clerk suddenly isolated in the +middle of the floor, rolling his eyes. The druggist released the +Spanish-Mexican girl with mechanical precision out amidst the +crowd of dancers. He bowed, dropping his chin upon his cravat; +throughout the dance neither had hazarded a word. The girl found +her way alone to a chair, but the druggist, sick from continually +revolving in the same direction, walked unsteadily toward the +wall. All at once the barn reeled around him; he fell down. +There was a great laugh, but he scrambled to his feet and +disappeared abruptly out into the night through the doorway of +the barn, deathly pale, his hand upon his stomach. + +Dabney, the old man whom nobody knew, approached the group of +ranchers around Magnus Derrick and stood, a little removed, +listening gravely to what the governor was saying, his chin sunk +in his collar, silent, offering no opinions. + +But the leader of the orchestra, with a great gesture of his +violin bow, cried out: + +"All take partners for the lancers and promenade around the +hall!" + +However, there was a delay. A little crowd formed around the +musicians' platform; voices were raised; there was a commotion. +Skeezicks, who played the big horn, accused the cornet and the +snare-drum of stealing his cold lunch. At intervals he could be +heard expostulating: + +"Ah, no! at the end of the end! Render me the sausages, you, or +less I break your throat! Aha! I know you. You are going to +play me there a bad farce. My sausages and the pork sandwich, +else I go away from this place!" + +He made an exaggerated show of replacing his big horn in its +case, but the by-standers raised a great protest. The sandwiches +and one sausage were produced; the other had disappeared. In the +end Skeezichs allowed himself to be appeased. The dance was +resumed. + +Half an hour later the gathering in the harness room was +considerably reinforced. It was the corner of the barn toward +which the male guests naturally gravitated. Harran Derrick, who +only cared to dance with Hilma Tree, was admitted. Garnett from +the Ruby rancho and Gethings from the San Pablo, came in a little +afterwards. A fourth bowl of punch was mixed, Annixter and +Caraher clamouring into each other's face as to its ingredients. +Cigars were lighted. Soon the air of the room became blue with +an acrid haze of smoke. It was very warm. Ranged in their +chairs around the side of the room, the guests emptied glass +after glass. + +Vanamee alone refused to drink. He sat a little to one side, +disassociating himself from what was going forward, watching the +others calmly, a little contemptuously, a cigarette in his +fingers. + +Hooven, after drinking his third glass, however, was afflicted +with a great sadness; his breast heaved with immense sighs. He +asserted that he was "obbressed;" Cutter had taken his steer. He +retired to a corner and seated himself in a heap on his chair, +his heels on the rungs, wiping the tears from his eyes, refusing +to be comforted. +Old Broderson startled Annixter, who sat next to him, out of all +measure by suddenly winking at him with infinite craftiness. + +"When I was a lad in Ukiah," he whispered hoarsely, "I was a +devil of a fellow with the girls; but Lordy!" he nudged him +slyly, "I wouldn't have it known!" + +Of those who were drinking, Annixter alone retained all his wits. +Though keeping pace with the others, glass for glass, the punch +left him solid upon his feet, clear-headed. The tough, cross- +grained fibre of him seemed proof against alcohol. Never in his +life had he been drunk. He prided himself upon his power of +resistance. It was his nature. + +"Say!" exclaimed old Broderson, gravely addressing the company, +pulling at his beard uneasily--"say! I--I--listen! I'm a devil +of a fellow with the girls." He wagged his head doggedly, +shutting his eyes in a knowing fashion. "Yes, sir, I am. There +was a young lady in Ukiah--that was when I was a lad of +seventeen. We used to meet in the cemetery in the afternoons. I +was to go away to school at Sacramento, and the afternoon I left +we met in the cemetery and we stayed so long I almost missed the +train. Her name was Celestine." + +There was a pause. The others waited for the rest of the story. + +"And afterwards?" prompted Annixter. + +"Afterwards? Nothing afterwards. I never saw her again. Her +name was Celestine." + +The company raised a chorus of derision, and Osterman cried +ironically: + +"Say! THAT'S a pretty good one! Tell us another." + +The old man laughed with the rest, believing he had made another +hit. He called Osterman to him, whispering in his ear: + +"Sh! Look here! Some night you and I will go up to San +Francisco--hey? We'll go skylarking. We'll be gay. Oh, I'm a-- +a--a rare old BUCK, I am! I ain't too old. You'll see." + +Annixter gave over the making of the fifth bowl of punch to +Osterman, who affirmed that he had a recipe for a "fertiliser" +from Solotari that would take the plating off the ladle. He left +him wrangling with Caraher, who still persisted in adding +chartreuse, and stepped out into the dance to see how things were +getting on. + +It was the interval between two dances. In and around a stall at +the farther end of the floor, where lemonade was being served, +was a great throng of young men. Others hurried across the floor +singly or by twos and threes, gingerly carrying overflowing +glasses to their "partners," sitting in long rows of white and +blue and pink against the opposite wall, their mothers and older +sisters in a second dark-clothed rank behind them. A babel of +talk was in the air, mingled with gusts of laughter. Everybody +seemed having a good time. In the increasing heat the +decorations of evergreen trees and festoons threw off a pungent +aroma that suggested a Sunday-school Christmas festival. In the +other stalls, lower down the barn, the young men had brought +chairs, and in these deep recesses the most desperate love-making +was in progress, the young man, his hair neatly parted, leaning +with great solicitation over the girl, his "partner" for the +moment, fanning her conscientiously, his arm carefully laid along +the back of her chair. + +By the doorway, Annixter met Sarria, who had stepped out to smoke +a fat, black cigar. The set smile of amiability was still fixed +on the priest's smooth, shiny face; the cigar ashes had left grey +streaks on the front of his cassock. He avoided Annixter, +fearing, no doubt, an allusion to his game cocks, and took up his +position back of the second rank of chairs by the musicians' +stand, beaming encouragingly upon every one who caught his eye. + +Annixter was saluted right and left as he slowly went the round +of the floor. At every moment he had to pause to shake hands and +to listen to congratulations upon the size of his barn and the +success of his dance. But he was distrait, his thoughts +elsewhere; he did not attempt to hide his impatience when some of +the young men tried to engage him in conversation, asking him to +be introduced to their sisters, or their friends' sisters. He +sent them about their business harshly, abominably rude, leaving +a wake of angry disturbance behind him, sowing the seeds of +future quarrels and renewed unpopularity. He was looking for +Hilma Tree. + +When at last he came unexpectedly upon her, standing near where +Mrs. Tree was seated, some half-dozen young men hovering uneasily +in her neighbourhood, all his audacity was suddenly stricken from +him; his gruffness, his overbearing insolence vanished with an +abruptness that left him cold. His old-time confusion and +embarrassment returned to him. Instead of speaking to her as he +intended, he affected not to see her, but passed by, his head in +the air, pretending a sudden interest in a Japanese lantern that +was about to catch fire. + +But he had had a single distinct glimpse of her, definite, +precise, and this glimpse was enough. Hilma had changed. The +change was subtle, evanescent, hard to define, but not the less +unmistakable. The excitement, the enchanting delight, the +delicious disturbance of "the first ball," had produced its +result. Perhaps there had only been this lacking. It was hard +to say, but for that brief instant of time Annixter was looking +at Hilma, the woman. She was no longer the young girl upon whom +he might look down, to whom he might condescend, whose little, +infantile graces were to be considered with amused toleration. + +When Annixter returned to the harness room, he let himself into a +clamour of masculine hilarity. Osterman had, indeed, made a +marvellous "fertiliser," whiskey for the most part, diluted with +champagne and lemon juice. The first round of this drink had +been welcomed with a salvo of cheers. Hooven, recovering his +spirits under its violent stimulation, spoke of "heving ut oudt +mit Cudder, bei Gott," while Osterman, standing on a chair at the +end of the room, shouted for a "few moments quiet, gentlemen," so +that he might tell a certain story he knew. +But, abruptly, Annixter discovered that the liquors--the +champagne, whiskey, brandy, and the like--were running low. This +would never do. He felt that he would stand disgraced if it +could be said afterward that he had not provided sufficient drink +at his entertainment. He slipped out, unobserved, and, finding +two of his ranch hands near the doorway, sent them down to the +ranch house to bring up all the cases of "stuff" they found +there. + +However, when this matter had been attended to, Annixter did not +immediately return to the harness room. On the floor of the barn +a square dance was under way, the leader of the City Band calling +the figures. Young Vacca indefatigably continued the rounds of +the barn, paring candle after candle, possessed with this single +idea of duty, pushing the dancers out of his way, refusing to +admit that the floor was yet sufficiently slippery. The druggist +had returned indoors, and leaned dejected and melancholy against +the wall near the doorway, unable to dance, his evening's +enjoyment spoiled. The gayly apparelled clerk from Bonneville +had just involved himself in a deplorable incident. In a search +for his handkerchief, which he had lost while trying to find his +programme card, he had inadvertently wandered into the feed room, +set apart as the ladies' dressing room, at the moment when Mrs. +Hooven, having removed the waist of Minna's dress, was relacing +her corsets. There was a tremendous scene. The clerk was +ejected forcibly, Mrs. Hooven filling all the neighbourhood with +shrill expostulation. A young man, Minna's "partner," who stood +near the feed room door, waiting for her to come out, had invited +the clerk, with elaborate sarcasm, to step outside for a moment; +and the clerk, breathless, stupefied, hustled from hand to hand, +remained petrified, with staring eyes, turning about and about, +looking wildly from face to face, speechless, witless, wondering +what had happened. + +But the square dance was over. The City Band was just beginning +to play a waltz. Annixter assuring himself that everything was +going all right, was picking his way across the floor, when he +came upon Hilma Tree quite alone, and looking anxiously among the +crowd of dancers. + +"Having a good time, Miss Hilma?" he demanded, pausing for a +moment. + +"Oh, am I, JUST!" she exclaimed. "The best time--but I don't +know what has become of my partner. See! I'm left all alone-- +the only time this whole evening," she added proudly. "Have you +seen him--my partner, sir? I forget his name. I only met him +this evening, and I've met SO many I can't begin to remember half +of them. He was a young man from Bonneville--a clerk, I think, +because I remember seeing him in a store there, and he wore the +prettiest clothes!" + +"I guess he got lost in the shuffle," observed Annixter. +Suddenly an idea occurred to him. He took his resolution in both +hands. He clenched his teeth. + +"Say! look here, Miss Hilma. What's the matter with you and I +stealing this one for ourselves? I don't mean to dance. I don't +propose to make a jumping-jack of myself for some galoot to give +me the laugh, but we'll walk around. Will you? What do you +say?" + +Hilma consented. + +"I'm not so VERY sorry I missed my dance with that--that--little +clerk," she said guiltily. "I suppose that's very bad of me, +isn't it?" + +Annixter fulminated a vigorous protest. + +"I AM so warm!" murmured Hilma, fanning herself with her +handkerchief; "and, oh! SUCH a good time as I have had! I was +so afraid that I would be a wall-flower and sit up by mamma and +papa the whole evening; and as it is, I have had every single +dance, and even some dances I had to split. Oh-h!" she breathed, +glancing lovingly around the barn, noting again the festoons of +tri-coloured cambric, the Japanese lanterns, flaring lamps, and +"decorations" of evergreen; "oh-h! it's all so lovely, just like +a fairy story; and to think that it can't last but for one little +evening, and that to-morrow morning one must wake up to the +every-day things again!" + +"Well," observed Annixter doggedly, unwilling that she should +forget whom she ought to thank, "I did my best, and my best is as +good as another man's, I guess." + +Hilma overwhelmed him with a burst of gratitude which he gruffly +pretended to deprecate. Oh, that was all right. It hadn't cost +him much. He liked to see people having a good time himself, and +the crowd did seem to be enjoying themselves. What did SHE +think? Did things look lively enough? And how about herself-- +was she enjoying it? + +Stupidly Annixter drove the question home again, at his wits' end +as to how to make conversation. Hilma protested volubly she +would never forget this night, adding: + +"Dance! Oh, you don't know how I love it! I didn't know myself. +I could dance all night and never stop once!" + +Annixter was smitten with uneasiness. No doubt this +"promenading" was not at all to her taste. Wondering what kind +of a spectacle he was about to make of himself, he exclaimed: + +"Want to dance now?" + +"Oh, yes!" she returned. + +They paused in their walk, and Hilma, facing him, gave herself +into his arms. Annixter shut his teeth, the perspiration +starting from his forehead. For five years he had abandoned +dancing. Never in his best days had it been one of his +accomplishments. + +They hesitated a moment, waiting to catch the time from the +musicians. Another couple bore down upon them at precisely the +wrong moment, jostling them out of step. Annixter swore under +his breath. His arm still about the young woman, he pulled her +over to one corner. + +"Now," he muttered, "we'll try again." + +A second time, listening to the one-two-three, one-two-three +cadence of the musicians, they endeavoured to get under way. +Annixter waited the fraction of a second too long and stepped on +Hilma's foot. On the third attempt, having worked out of the +corner, a pair of dancers bumped into them once more, and as they +were recovering themselves another couple caromed violently +against Annixter so that he all but lost his footing. He was in +a rage. Hilma, very embarrassed, was trying not to laugh, and +thus they found themselves, out in the middle of the floor, +continually jostled from their position, holding clumsily to each +other, stammering excuses into one another's faces, when Delaney +arrived. + +He came with the suddenness of an explosion. There was a +commotion by the doorway, a rolling burst of oaths, a furious +stamping of hoofs, a wild scramble of the dancers to either side +of the room, and there he was. He had ridden the buckskin at a +gallop straight through the doorway and out into the middle of +the floor of the barn. + +Once well inside, Delaney hauled up on the cruel spade-bit, at +the same time driving home the spurs, and the buckskin, without +halting in her gait, rose into the air upon her hind feet, and +coming down again with a thunder of iron hoofs upon the hollow +floor, lashed out with both heels simultaneously, her back +arched, her head between her knees. It was the running buck, and +had not Delaney been the hardest buster in the county, would have +flung him headlong like a sack of sand. But he eased off the +bit, gripping the mare's flanks with his knees, and the buckskin, +having long since known her master, came to hand quivering, the +bloody spume dripping from the bit upon the slippery floor. + +Delaney had arrayed himself with painful elaboration, determined +to look the part, bent upon creating the impression, resolved +that his appearance at least should justify his reputation of +being "bad." Nothing was lacking--neither the campaign hat with +upturned brim, nor the dotted blue handkerchief knotted behind +the neck, nor the heavy gauntlets stitched with red, nor--this +above all--the bear-skin "chaparejos," the hair trousers of the +mountain cowboy, the pistol holster low on the thigh. But for +the moment this holster was empty, and in his right hand, the +hammer at full cock, the chamber loaded, the puncher flourished +his teaser, an army Colt's, the lamplight dully reflected in the +dark blue steel. + +In a second of time the dance was a bedlam. The musicians +stopped with a discord, and the middle of the crowded floor bared +itself instantly. It was like sand blown from off a rock; the +throng of guests, carried by an impulse that was not to be +resisted, bore back against the sides of the barn, overturning +chairs, tripping upon each other, falling down, scrambling to +their feet again, stepping over one another, getting behind each +other, diving under chairs, flattening themselves against the +wall--a wild, clamouring pell-mell, blind, deaf, panic-stricken; +a confused tangle of waving arms, torn muslin, crushed flowers, +pale faces, tangled legs, that swept in all directions back from +the centre of the floor, leaving Annixter and Hilma, alone, +deserted, their arms about each other, face to face with Delaney, +mad with alcohol, bursting with remembered insult, bent on evil, +reckless of results. + +After the first scramble for safety, the crowd fell quiet for the +fraction of an instant, glued to the walls, afraid to stir, +struck dumb and motionless with surprise and terror, and in the +instant's silence that followed Annixter, his eyes on Delaney, +muttered rapidly to Hilma: + +"Get back, get away to one side. The fool MIGHT shoot." + +There was a second's respite afforded while Delaney occupied +himself in quieting the buckskin, and in that second of time, at +this moment of crisis, the wonderful thing occurred. Hilma, +turning from Delaney, her hands clasped on Annixter's arm, her +eyes meeting his, exclaimed: + +"You, too!" + +And that was all; but to Annixter it was a revelation. Never +more alive to his surroundings, never more observant, he suddenly +understood. For the briefest lapse of time he and Hilma looked +deep into each other's eyes, and from that moment on, Annixter +knew that Hilma cared. + +The whole matter was brief as the snapping of a finger. Two +words and a glance and all was done. But as though nothing had +occurred, Annixter pushed Hilma from him, repeating harshly: + +"Get back, I tell you. Don't you see he's got a gun? Haven't I +enough on my hands without you?" + +He loosed her clasp and his eyes once more on Delaney, moved +diagonally backwards toward the side of the barn, pushing Hilma +from him. In the end he thrust her away so sharply that she gave +back with a long stagger; somebody caught her arm and drew her +in, leaving Annixter alone once more in the middle of the floor, +his hands in his coat pockets, watchful, alert, facing his enemy. + +But the cow-puncher was not ready to come to grapples yet. +Fearless, his wits gambolling under the lash of the alcohol, he +wished to make the most of the occasion, maintaining the +suspense, playing for the gallery. By touches of the hand and +knee he kept the buckskin in continual, nervous movement, her +hoofs clattering, snorting, tossing her head, while he, himself, +addressing himself to Annixter, poured out a torrent of +invective. + +"Well, strike me blind if it ain't old Buck Annixter! He was +going to show me off Quien Sabe at the toe of his boot, was he? +Well, here's your chance,--with the ladies to see you do it. +Gives a dance, does he, high-falutin' hoe-down in his barn and +forgets to invite his old broncho-bustin' friend. But his friend +don't forget him; no, he don't. He remembers little things, does +his broncho-bustin' friend. Likes to see a dance hisself on +occasion, his friend does. Comes anyhow, trustin' his welcome +will be hearty; just to see old Buck Annixter dance, just to show +Buck Annixter's friends how Buck can dance--dance all by hisself, +a little hen-on-a-hot-plate dance when his broncho-bustin' friend +asks him so polite. A little dance for the ladies, Buck. This +feature of the entertainment is alone worth the price of +admission. Tune up, Buck. Attention now! I'll give you the +key." + +He "fanned" his revolver, spinning it about his index finger by +the trigger-guard with incredible swiftness, the twirling weapon +a mere blur of blue steel in his hand. Suddenly and without any +apparent cessation of the movement, he fired, and a little +splinter of wood flipped into the air at Annixter's feet. + +"Time!" he shouted, while the buckskin reared to the report. +"Hold on--wait a minute. This place is too light to suit. That +big light yonder is in my eyes. Look out, I'm going to throw +lead." + +A second shot put out the lamp over the musicians' stand. The +assembled guests shrieked, a frantic, shrinking quiver ran +through the crowd like the huddling of frightened rabbits in +their pen. + +Annixter hardly moved. He stood some thirty paces from the +buster, his hands still in his coat pockets, his eyes glistening, +watchful. +Excitable and turbulent in trifling matters, when actual bodily +danger threatened he was of an abnormal quiet. + +"I'm watching you," cried the other. "Don't make any mistake +about that. Keep your hands in your COAT pockets, if you'd like +to live a little longer, understand? And don't let me see you +make a move toward your hip or your friends will be asked to +identify you at the morgue to-morrow morning. When I'm bad, I'm +called the Undertaker's Friend, so I am, and I'm that bad to- +night that I'm scared of myself. They'll have to revise the +census returns before I'm done with this place. Come on, now, +I'm getting tired waiting. I come to see a dance." + +"Hand over that horse, Delaney," said Annixter, without raising +his voice, "and clear out." + +The other affected to be overwhelmed with infinite astonishment, +his eyes staring. He peered down from the saddle. + +"Wh-a-a-t!" he exclaimed; "wh-a-a-t did you say? Why, I guess +you must be looking for trouble; that's what I guess." + +"There's where you're wrong, m'son," muttered Annixter, partly to +Delaney, partly to himself. "If I was looking for trouble there +wouldn't be any guess-work about it." + +With the words he began firing. Delaney had hardly entered the +barn before Annixter's plan had been formed. Long since his +revolver was in the pocket of his coat, and he fired now through +the coat itself, without withdrawing his hands. + +Until that moment Annixter had not been sure of himself. There +was no doubt that for the first few moments of the affair he +would have welcomed with joy any reasonable excuse for getting +out of the situation. But the sound of his own revolver gave him +confidence. He whipped it from his pocket and fired again. + +Abruptly the duel began, report following report, spurts of pale +blue smoke jetting like the darts of short spears between the two +men, expanding to a haze and drifting overhead in wavering +strata. It was quite probable that no thought of killing each +other suggested itself to either Annixter or Delaney. Both fired +without aiming very deliberately. To empty their revolvers and +avoid being hit was the desire common to both. They no longer +vituperated each other. The revolvers spoke for them. + +Long after, Annixter could recall this moment. For years he +could with but little effort reconstruct the scene--the densely +packed crowd flattened against the sides of the barn, the +festoons of lanterns, the mingled smell of evergreens, new wood, +sachets, and powder smoke; the vague clamour of distress and +terror that rose from the throng of guests, the squealing of the +buckskin, the uneven explosions of the revolvers, the +reverberation of trampling hoofs, a brief glimpse of Harran +Derrick's excited face at the door of the harness room, and in +the open space in the centre of the floor, himself and Delaney, +manoeuvring swiftly in a cloud of smoke. + +Annixter's revolver contained but six cartridges. Already it +seemed to him as if he had fired twenty times. Without doubt the +next shot was his last. Then what? He peered through the blue +haze that with every discharge thickened between him and the +buster. For his own safety he must "place" at least one shot. +Delaney's chest and shoulders rose suddenly above the smoke close +upon him as the distraught buckskin reared again. Annixter, for +the first time during the fight, took definite aim, but before he +could draw the trigger there was a great shout and he was aware +of the buckskin, the bridle trailing, the saddle empty, plunging +headlong across the floor, crashing into the line of chairs. +Delaney was scrambling off the floor. There was blood on the +buster's wrist and he no longer carried his revolver. Suddenly +he turned and ran. The crowd parted right and left before him as +he made toward the doorway. He disappeared. + +Twenty men promptly sprang to the buckskin's head, but she broke +away, and wild with terror, bewildered, blind, insensate, charged +into the corner of the barn by the musicians' stand. She brought +up against the wall with cruel force and with impact of a sack of +stones; her head was cut. She turned and charged again, bull- +like, the blood streaming from her forehead. The crowd, +shrieking, melted before her rush. An old man was thrown down +and trampled. The buckskin trod upon the dragging bridle, +somersaulted into a confusion of chairs in one corner, and came +down with a terrific clatter in a wild disorder of kicking hoofs +and splintered wood. But a crowd of men fell upon her, tugging +at the bit, sitting on her head, shouting, gesticulating. For +five minutes she struggled and fought; then, by degrees, she +recovered herself, drawing great sobbing breaths at long +intervals that all but burst the girths, rolling her eyes in +bewildered, supplicating fashion, trembling in every muscle, and +starting and shrinking now and then like a young girl in +hysterics. At last she lay quiet. The men allowed her to +struggle to her feet. The saddle was removed and she was led to +one of the empty stalls, where she remained the rest of the +evening, her head low, her pasterns quivering, turning her head +apprehensively from time to time, showing the white of one eye +and at long intervals heaving a single prolonged sigh. + +And an hour later the dance was progressing as evenly as though +nothing in the least extraordinary had occurred. The incident +was closed--that abrupt swoop of terror and impending death +dropping down there from out the darkness, cutting abruptly +athwart the gayety of the moment, come and gone with the +swiftness of a thunderclap. Many of the women had gone home, +taking their men with them; but the great bulk of the crowd still +remained, seeing no reason why the episode should interfere with +the evening's enjoyment, resolved to hold the ground for mere +bravado, if for nothing else. Delaney would not come back, of +that everybody was persuaded, and in case he should, there was +not found wanting fully half a hundred young men who would give +him a dressing down, by jingo! They had been too surprised to +act when Delaney had first appeared, and before they knew where +they were at, the buster had cleared out. In another minute, +just another second, they would have shown him--yes, sir, by +jingo!--ah, you bet! + +On all sides the reminiscences began to circulate. At least one +man in every three had been involved in a gun fight at some time +of his life. "Ah, you ought to have seen in Yuba County one +time--" "Why, in Butte County in the early days--" "Pshaw! this +to-night wasn't anything! Why, once in a saloon in Arizona when +I was there--" and so on, over and over again. Osterman solemnly +asserted that he had seen a greaser sawn in two in a Nevada +sawmill. Old Broderson had witnessed a Vigilante lynching in '55 +on California Street in San Francisco. Dyke recalled how once in +his engineering days he had run over a drunk at a street +crossing. Gethings of the San Pablo had taken a shot at a +highwayman. Hooven had bayonetted a French Chasseur at Sedan. +An old Spanish-Mexican, a centenarian from Guadalajara, +remembered Fremont's stand on a mountain top in San Benito +County. The druggist had fired at a burglar trying to break into +his store one New Year's eve. Young Vacca had seen a dog shot in +Guadalajara. Father Sarria had more than once administered the +sacraments to Portuguese desperadoes dying of gunshot wounds. +Even the women recalled terrible scenes. Mrs. Cutter recounted +to an interested group how she had seen a claim jumped in Placer +County in 1851, when three men were shot, falling in a fusillade +of rifle shots, and expiring later upon the floor of her kitchen +while she looked on. Mrs. Dyke had been in a stage hold-up, when +the shotgun messenger was murdered. Stories by the hundreds went +the round of the company. The air was surcharged with blood, +dying groans, the reek of powder smoke, the crack of rifles. All +the legends of '49, the violent, wild life of the early days, +were recalled to view, defiling before them there in an endless +procession under the glare of paper lanterns and kerosene lamps. + +But the affair had aroused a combative spirit amongst the men of +the assembly. Instantly a spirit of aggression, of truculence, +swelled up underneath waistcoats and starched shirt bosoms. More +than one offender was promptly asked to "step outside." It was +like young bucks excited by an encounter of stags, lowering their +horns upon the slightest provocation, showing off before the does +and fawns. Old quarrels were remembered. One sought laboriously +for slights and insults, veiled in ordinary conversation. The +sense of personal honour became refined to a delicate, fine +point. Upon the slightest pretext there was a haughty drawing up +of the figure, a twisting of the lips into a smile of scorn. +Caraher spoke of shooting S. Behrman on sight before the end of +the week. Twice it became necessary to separate Hooven and +Cutter, renewing their quarrel as to the ownership of the steer. +All at once Minna Hooven's "partner" fell upon the gayly +apparelled clerk from Bonneville, pummelling him with his fists, +hustling him out of the hall, vociferating that Miss Hooven had +been grossly insulted. It took three men to extricate the clerk +from his clutches, dazed, gasping, his collar unfastened and +sticking up into his face, his eyes staring wildly into the faces +of the crowd. + +But Annixter, bursting with pride, his chest thrown out, his chin +in the air, reigned enthroned in a circle of adulation. He was +the Hero. To shake him by the hand was an honour to be struggled +for. One clapped him on the back with solemn nods of approval. +"There's the BOY for you;" "There was nerve for you;" "What's the +matter with Annixter?" "How about THAT for sand, and how was THAT +for a SHOT?" "Why, Apache Kid couldn't have bettered that." +"Cool enough." "Took a steady eye and a sure hand to make a shot +like that." "There was a shot that would be told about in Tulare +County fifty years to come." + +Annixter had refrained from replying, all ears to this +conversation, wondering just what had happened. He knew only +that Delaney had run, leaving his revolver and a spatter of blood +behind him. By degrees, however, he ascertained that his last +shot but one had struck Delaney's pistol hand, shattering it and +knocking the revolver from his grip. He was overwhelmed with +astonishment. Why, after the shooting began he had not so much +as seen Delaney with any degree of plainness. The whole affair +was a whirl. + +"Well, where did YOU learn to shoot THAT way?" some one in the +crowd demanded. Annixter moved his shoulders with a gesture of +vast unconcern. + +"Oh," he observed carelessly, "it's not my SHOOTING that ever +worried ME, m'son." + +The crowd gaped with delight. There was a great wagging of +heads. + +"Well, I guess not." + +"No, sir, not much." + +"Ah, no, you bet not." + +When the women pressed around him, shaking his hands, declaring +that he had saved their daughters' lives, Annixter assumed a pose +of superb deprecation, the modest self-obliteration of the +chevalier. He delivered himself of a remembered phrase, very +elegant, refined. It was Lancelot after the tournament, Bayard +receiving felicitations after the battle. + +"Oh, don't say anything about it," he murmured. "I only did what +any man would have done in my place." + +To restore completely the equanimity of the company, he announced +supper. This he had calculated as a tremendous surprise. It was +to have been served at mid-night, but the irruption of Delaney +had dislocated the order of events, and the tables were brought +in an hour ahead of time. They were arranged around three sides +of the barn and were loaded down with cold roasts of beef, cold +chickens and cold ducks, mountains of sandwiches, pitchers of +milk and lemonade, entire cheeses, bowls of olives, plates of +oranges and nuts. The advent of this supper was received with a +volley of applause. The musicians played a quick step. The +company threw themselves upon the food with a great scraping of +chairs and a vast rustle of muslins, tarletans, and organdies; +soon the clatter of dishes was a veritable uproar. The tables +were taken by assault. One ate whatever was nearest at hand, +some even beginning with oranges and nuts and ending with beef +and chicken. At the end the paper caps were brought on, together +with the ice cream. All up and down the tables the pulled +"crackers" snapped continually like the discharge of innumerable +tiny rifles. + +The caps of tissue paper were put on--"Phrygian Bonnets," +"Magicians' Caps," "Liberty Caps;" the young girls looked across +the table at their vis-a-vis with bursts of laughter and vigorous +clapping of the hands. + +The harness room crowd had a table to themselves, at the head of +which sat Annixter and at the foot Harran. The gun fight had +sobered Presley thoroughly. He sat by the side of Vanamee, who +ate but little, preferring rather to watch the scene with calm +observation, a little contemptuous when the uproar around the +table was too boisterous, savouring of intoxication. Osterman +rolled bullets of bread and shot them with astonishing force up +and down the table, but the others--Dyke, old Broderson, Caraher, +Harran Derrick, Hooven, Cutter, Garnett of the Ruby rancho, Keast +from the ranch of the same name, Gethings of the San Pablo, and +Chattern of the Bonanza--occupied themselves with eating as much +as they could before the supper gave out. At a corner of the +table, speechless, unobserved, ignored, sat Dabney, of whom +nothing was known but his name, the silent old man who made no +friends. He ate and drank quietly, dipping his sandwich in his +lemonade. + +Osterman ate all the olives he could lay his hands on, a score of +them, fifty of them, a hundred of them. He touched no crumb of +anything else. Old Broderson stared at him, his jaw fallen. +Osterman declared he had once eaten a thousand on a bet. The men +called each others' attention to him. Delighted to create a +sensation, Osterman persevered. The contents of an entire bowl +disappeared in his huge, reptilian slit of a mouth. His cheeks +of brownish red were extended, his bald forehead glistened. +Colics seized upon him. His stomach revolted. It was all one +with him. He was satisfied, contented. He was astonishing the +people. + +"Once I swallowed a tree toad." he told old Broderson, "by +mistake. I was eating grapes, and the beggar lived in me three +weeks. In rainy weather he would sing. You don't believe that," +he vociferated. "Haven't I got the toad at home now in a bottle +of alcohol." + +And the old man, never doubting, his eyes starting, wagged his +head in amazement. + +"Oh, yes," cried Caraher, the length of the table, "that's a +pretty good one. Tell us another." + +"That reminds me of a story," hazarded old Broderson uncertainly; +"once when I was a lad in Ukiah, fifty years" + +"Oh, yes," cried half a dozen voices, "THAT'S a pretty good one. +Tell us another." + +"Eh--wh--what?" murmured Broderson, looking about him. "I--I +don't know. It was Ukiah. You--you--you mix me all up." + +As soon as supper was over, the floor was cleared again. The +guests clamoured for a Virginia reel. The last quarter of the +evening, the time of the most riotous fun, was beginning. The +young men caught the girls who sat next to them. The orchestra +dashed off into a rollicking movement. The two lines were +formed. In a second of time the dance was under way again; the +guests still wearing the Phrygian bonnets and liberty caps of +pink and blue tissue paper. + +But the group of men once more adjourned to the harness room. +Fresh boxes of cigars were opened; the seventh bowl of fertiliser +was mixed. Osterman poured the dregs of a glass of it upon his +bald head, declaring that he could feel the hair beginning to +grow. + +But suddenly old Broderson rose to his feet. + +"Aha," he cackled, "I'M going to have a dance, I am. Think I'm +too old? I'll show you young fellows. I'm a regular old ROOSTER +when I get started." + +He marched out into the barn, the others following, holding their +sides. He found an aged Mexican woman by the door and hustled +her, all confused and giggling, into the Virginia reel, then at +its height. Every one crowded around to see. Old Broderson +stepped off with the alacrity of a colt, snapping his fingers, +slapping his thigh, his mouth widening in an excited grin. The +entire company of the guests shouted. The City Band redoubled +their efforts; and the old man, losing his head, breathless, +gasping, dislocated his stiff joints in his efforts. He became +possessed, bowing, scraping, advancing, retreating, wagging his +beard, cutting pigeons' wings, distraught with the music, the +clamour, the applause, the effects of the fertiliser. + +Annixter shouted: + +"Nice eye, Santa Claus." + +But Annixter's attention wandered. He searched for Hilma Tree, +having still in mind the look in her eyes at that swift moment of +danger. He had not seen her since then. At last he caught sight +of her. She was not dancing, but, instead, was sitting with her +"partner" at the end of the barn near her father and mother, her +eyes wide, a serious expression on her face, her thoughts, no +doubt, elsewhere. Annixter was about to go to her when he was +interrupted by a cry. + +Old Broderson, in the midst of a double shuffle, had clapped his +hand to his side with a gasp, which he followed by a whoop of +anguish. He had got a stitch or had started a twinge somewhere. +With a gesture of resignation, he drew himself laboriously out of +the dance, limping abominably, one leg dragging. He was heard +asking for his wife. Old Mrs. Broderson took him in charge. She +jawed him for making an exhibition of himself, scolding as though +he were a ten-year-old. + +"Well, I want to know!" she exclaimed, as he hobbled off, +dejected and melancholy, leaning upon her arm, "thought he had to +dance, indeed! What next? A gay old grandpa, this. He'd +better be thinking of his coffin." + +It was almost midnight. The dance drew towards its close in a +storm of jubilation. The perspiring musicians toiled like galley +slaves; the guests singing as they danced. + +The group of men reassembled in the harness room. Even Magnus +Derrick condescended to enter and drink a toast. Presley and +Vanamee, still holding themselves aloof, looked on, Vanamee more +and more disgusted. Dabney, standing to one side, overlooked and +forgotten, continued to sip steadily at his glass, solemn, +reserved. Garnett of the Ruby rancho, Keast from the ranch of +the same name, Gethings of the San Pablo, and Chattern of the +Bonanza, leaned back in their chairs, their waist-coats +unbuttoned, their legs spread wide, laughing--they could not tell +why. Other ranchers, men whom Annixter had never seen, appeared +in the room, wheat growers from places as far distant as Goshen +and Pixley; young men and old, proprietors of veritable +principalities, hundreds of thousands of acres of wheat lands, a +dozen of them, a score of them; men who were strangers to each +other, but who made it a point to shake hands with Magnus +Derrick, the "prominent man" of the valley. Old Broderson, whom +every one had believed had gone home, returned, though much +sobered, and took his place, refusing, however, to drink another +spoonful. + +Soon the entire number of Annixter's guests found themselves in +two companies, the dancers on the floor of the barn, frolicking +through the last figures of the Virginia reel and the boisterous +gathering of men in the harness room, downing the last quarts of +fertiliser. Both assemblies had been increased. Even the older +people had joined in the dance, while nearly every one of the men +who did not dance had found their way into the harness room. The +two groups rivalled each other in their noise. Out on the floor +of the barn was a very whirlwind of gayety, a tempest of +laughter, hand-clapping and cries of amusement. In the harness +room the confused shouting and singing, the stamping of heavy +feet, set a quivering reverberation in the oil of the kerosene +lamps, the flame of the candles in the Japanese lanterns flaring +and swaying in the gusts of hilarity. At intervals, between the +two, one heard the music, the wailing of the violins, the +vigorous snarling of the cornet, and the harsh, incessant rasping +of the snare drum. + +And at times all these various sounds mingled in a single vague +note, huge, clamorous, that rose up into the night from the +colossal, reverberating compass of the barn and sent its echoes +far off across the unbroken levels of the surrounding ranches, +stretching out to infinity under the clouded sky, calm, +mysterious, still. + +Annixter, the punch bowl clasped in his arms, was pouring out the +last spoonful of liquor into Caraher's glass when he was aware +that some one was pulling at the sleeve of his coat. He set down +the punch bowl. + +"Well, where did YOU come from?" he demanded. + +It was a messenger from Bonneville, the uniformed boy that the +telephone company employed to carry messages. He had just +arrived from town on his bicycle, out of breath and panting. + +"Message for you, sir. Will you sign?" + +He held the book to Annixter, who signed the receipt, wondering. + +The boy departed, leaving a thick envelope of yellow paper in +Annixter's hands, the address typewritten, the word "Urgent" +written in blue pencil in one corner. + +Annixter tore it open. The envelope contained other sealed +envelopes, some eight or ten of them, addressed to Magnus +Derrick, Osterman, Broderson, Garnett, Keast, Gethings, Chattern, +Dabney, and to Annixter himself. + +Still puzzled, Annixter distributed the envelopes, muttering to +himself: + +"What's up now?" + +The incident had attracted attention. A comparative quiet +followed, the guests following the letters with their eyes as +they were passed around the table. They fancied that Annixter +had arranged a surprise. + +Magnus Derrick, who sat next to Annixter, was the first to +receive his letter. With a word of excuse he opened it. + +"Read it, read it, Governor," shouted a half-dozen voices. "No +secrets, you know. Everything above board here to-night." + +Magnus cast a glance at the contents of the letter, then rose to +his feet and read: + + +Magnus Derrick, + Bonneville, Tulare Co., Cal. + + +Dear Sir: + +By regrade of October 1st, the value of the railroad land you +occupy, included in your ranch of Los Muertos, has been fixed at +$27.00 per acre. The land is now for sale at that price to any +one. + + Yours, etc., + CYRUS BLAKELEE RUGGLES, + Land Agent, P. and S. W. R. R. + + S. BEHRMAN, + Local Agent, P. and S. W. R. R. + +In the midst of the profound silence that followed, Osterman was +heard to exclaim grimly: + +"THAT'S a pretty good one. Tell us another." + +But for a long moment this was the only remark. + +The silence widened, broken only by the sound of torn paper as +Annixter, Osterman, old Broderson, Garnett, Keast, Gethings, +Chattern, and Dabney opened and read their letters. They were +all to the same effect, almost word for word like the Governor's. +Only the figures and the proper names varied. In some cases the +price per acre was twenty-two dollars. In Annixter's case it was +thirty. + +"And--and the company promised to sell to me, to--to all of us," +gasped old Broderson, "at TWO DOLLARS AND A HALF an acre." + +It was not alone the ranchers immediately around Bonneville who +would be plundered by this move on the part of the Railroad. The +"alternate section" system applied throughout all the San +Joaquin. By striking at the Bonneville ranchers a terrible +precedent was established. Of the crowd of guests in the harness +room alone, nearly every man was affected, every man menaced with +ruin. All of a million acres was suddenly involved. + +Then suddenly the tempest burst. A dozen men were on their feet +in an instant, their teeth set, their fists clenched, their faces +purple with rage. Oaths, curses, maledictions exploded like the +firing of successive mines. Voices quivered with wrath, hands +flung upward, the fingers hooked, prehensile, trembled with +anger. The sense of wrongs, the injustices, the oppression, +extortion, and pillage of twenty years suddenly culminated and +found voice in a raucous howl of execration. For a second there +was nothing articulate in that cry of savage exasperation, +nothing even intelligent. It was the human animal hounded to its +corner, exploited, harried to its last stand, at bay, ferocious, +terrible, turning at last with bared teeth and upraised claws to +meet the death grapple. It was the hideous squealing of the +tormented brute, its back to the wall, defending its lair, its +mate and its whelps, ready to bite, to rend, to trample, to +batter out the life of The Enemy in a primeval, bestial welter of +blood and fury. + +The roar subsided to intermittent clamour, in the pauses of which +the sounds of music and dancing made themselves audible once +more. + +"S. Behrman again," vociferated Harran Derrick. + +"Chose his moment well," muttered Annixter. "Hits his hardest +when we're all rounded up having a good time." + +"Gentlemen, this is ruin." + +"What's to be done now?" + +"FIGHT! My God! do you think we are going to stand this? Do +you think we CAN?" + +The uproar swelled again. The clearer the assembly of ranchers +understood the significance of this move on the part of the +Railroad, the more terrible it appeared, the more flagrant, the +more intolerable. Was it possible, was it within the bounds of +imagination that this tyranny should be contemplated? But they +knew--past years had driven home the lesson--the implacable, iron +monster with whom they had to deal, and again and again the sense +of outrage and oppression lashed them to their feet, their mouths +wide with curses, their fists clenched tight, their throats +hoarse with shouting. + +"Fight! How fight? What ARE you going to do?" + +"If there's a law in this land" + +"If there is, it is in Shelgrim's pocket. Who owns the courts in +California? Ain't it Shelgrim?" + +"God damn him." + +"Well, how long are you going to stand it? How long before +you'll settle up accounts with six inches of plugged gas-pipe?" + +"And our contracts, the solemn pledges of the corporation to sell +to us first of all----" + +"And now the land is for sale to anybody." + +"Why, it is a question of my home. Am I to be turned out? Why, +I have put eight thousand dollars into improving this land." + +"And I six thousand, and now that I have, the Railroad grabs it." + +"And the system of irrigating ditches that Derrick and I have +been laying out. There's thousands of dollars in that!" + +"I'll fight this out till I've spent every cent of my money." + +"Where? In the courts that the company owns?" + +"Think I am going to give in to this? Think I am to get off my +land? By God, gentlemen, law or no law, railroad or no +railroad, I--WILL--NOT." + +"Nor I." + +"Nor I." + +"Nor I." + +"This is the last. Legal means first; if those fail--the +shotgun." + +"They can kill me. They can shoot me down, but I'll die--die +fighting for my home--before I'll give in to this." + +At length Annixter made himself heard: + +"All out of the room but the ranch owners," he shouted. "Hooven, +Caraher, Dyke, you'll have to clear out. This is a family +affair. Presley, you and your friend can remain." + +Reluctantly the others filed through the door. There remained in +the harness room--besides Vanamee and Presley--Magnus Derrick, +Annixter, old Broderson Harran, Garnett from the Ruby rancho, +Keast from the ranch of the same name, Gethings of the San Pablo, +Chattern of the Bonanza, about a score of others, ranchers from +various parts of the county, and, last of all, Dabney, ignored, +silent, to whom nobody spoke and who, as yet, had not uttered a +word. +But the men who had been asked to leave the harness room spread +the news throughout the barn. It was repeated from lip to lip. +One by one the guests dropped out of the dance. Groups were +formed. By swift degrees the gayety lapsed away. The Virginia +reel broke up. The musicians ceased playing, and in the place of +the noisy, effervescent revelry of the previous half hour, a +subdued murmur filled all the barn, a mingling of whispers, +lowered voices, the coming and going of light footsteps, the +uneasy shifting of positions, while from behind the closed doors +of the harness room came a prolonged, sullen hum of anger and +strenuous debate. The dance came to an abrupt end. The guests, +unwilling to go as yet, stunned, distressed, stood clumsily +about, their eyes vague, their hands swinging at their sides, +looking stupidly into each others' faces. A sense of impending +calamity, oppressive, foreboding, gloomy, passed through the air +overhead in the night, a long shiver of anguish and of terror, +mysterious, despairing. + +In the harness room, however, the excitement continued unchecked. +One rancher after another delivered himself of a torrent of +furious words. There was no order, merely the frenzied outcry of +blind fury. One spirit alone was common to all--resistance at +whatever cost and to whatever lengths. + +Suddenly Osterman leaped to his feet, his bald head gleaming in +the lamp-light, his red ears distended, a flood of words filling +his great, horizontal slit of a mouth, his comic actor's face +flaming. Like the hero of a melodrama, he took stage with a +great sweeping gesture. + +"ORGANISATION," he shouted, "that must be our watch-word. The +curse of the ranchers is that they fritter away their strength. +Now, we must stand together, now, NOW. Here's the crisis, here's +the moment. Shall we meet it? I CALL FOR THE LEAGUE. Not next +week, not to-morrow, not in the morning, but now, now, now, this +very moment, before we go out of that door. Every one of us here +to join it, to form the beginnings of a vast organisation, banded +together to death, if needs be, for the protection of our rights +and homes. Are you ready? Is it now or never? I call for the +League." + +Instantly there was a shout. With an actor's instinct, Osterman +had spoken at the precise psychological moment. He carried the +others off their feet, glib, dexterous, voluble. Just what was +meant by the League the others did not know, but it was +something, a vague engine, a machine with which to fight. +Osterman had not done speaking before the room rang with +outcries, the crowd of men shouting, for what they did not know. + +"The League! The League!" + +"Now, to-night, this moment; sign our names before we leave." + +"He's right. Organisation! The League!" + +"We have a committee at work already," Osterman vociferated. "I +am a member, and also Mr. Broderson, Mr. Annixter, and Mr. Harran +Derrick. What our aims are we will explain to you later. Let +this committee be the nucleus of the League--temporarily, at +least. Trust us. We are working for you and with you. Let this +committee be merged into the larger committee of the League, and +for President of the League"--he paused the fraction of a second-- +"for President there can be but one name mentioned, one man to +whom we all must look as leader--Magnus Derrick." + +The Governor's name was received with a storm of cheers. The +harness room reechoed with shouts of: + +"Derrick! Derrick!" + +"Magnus for President!" + +"Derrick, our natural leader." + +"Derrick, Derrick, Derrick for President." + +Magnus rose to his feet. He made no gesture. Erect as a cavalry +officer, tall, thin, commanding, he dominated the crowd in an +instant. There was a moment's hush. +"Gentlemen," he said, "if organisation is a good word, moderation +is a better one. The matter is too grave for haste. I would +suggest that we each and severally return to our respective homes +for the night, sleep over what has happened, and convene again +to-morrow, when we are calmer and can approach this affair in a +more judicious mood. As for the honour with which you would +inform me, I must affirm that that, too, is a matter for grave +deliberation. This League is but a name as yet. To accept +control of an organisation whose principles are not yet fixed is +a heavy responsibility. I shrink from it--" + +But he was allowed to proceed no farther. A storm of protest +developed. There were shouts of: + +"No, no. The League to-night and Derrick for President." + +"We have been moderate too long." + +"The League first, principles afterward." + +"We can't wait," declared Osterman. "Many of us cannot attend a +meeting to-morrow. Our business affairs would prevent it. Now +we are all together. I propose a temporary chairman and +secretary be named and a ballot be taken. But first the League. +Let us draw up a set of resolutions to stand together, for the +defence of our homes, to death, if needs be, and each man present +affix his signature thereto." + +He subsided amidst vigorous applause. The next quarter of an +hour was a vague confusion, every one talking at once, +conversations going on in low tones in various corners of the +room. Ink, pens, and a sheaf of foolscap were brought from the +ranch house. A set of resolutions was draughted, having the +force of a pledge, organising the League of Defence. Annixter +was the first to sign. Others followed, only a few holding back, +refusing to join till they had thought the matter over. The roll +grew; the paper circulated about the table; each signature was +welcomed by a salvo of cheers. At length, it reached Harran +Derrick, who signed amid tremendous uproar. He released the pen +only to shake a score of hands. + +"Now, Magnus Derrick." + +"Gentlemen," began the Governor, once more rising, "I beg of you +to allow me further consideration. Gentlemen" + +He was interrupted by renewed shouting. + +"No, no, now or never. Sign, join the League." + +"Don't leave us. We look to you to help." + +But presently the excited throng that turned their faces towards +the Governor were aware of a new face at his elbow. The door of +the harness room had been left unbolted and Mrs. Derrick, unable +to endure the heart-breaking suspense of waiting outside, had +gathered up all her courage and had come into the room. +Trembling, she clung to Magnus's arm, her pretty light-brown hair +in disarray, her large young girl's eyes wide with terror and +distrust. What was about to happen she did not understand, but +these men were clamouring for Magnus to pledge himself to +something, to some terrible course of action, some ruthless, +unscrupulous battle to the death with the iron-hearted monster of +steel and steam. Nerved with a coward's intrepidity, she, who so +easily obliterated herself, had found her way into the midst of +this frantic crowd, into this hot, close room, reeking of alcohol +and tobacco smoke, into this atmosphere surcharged with hatred +and curses. She seized her husband's arm imploring, distraught +with terror. + +"No, no," she murmured; "no, don't sign." + +She was the feather caught in the whirlwind. En masse, the crowd +surged toward the erect figure of the Governor, the pen in one +hand, his wife's fingers in the other, the roll of signatures +before him. The clamour was deafening; the excitement culminated +brusquely. Half a hundred hands stretched toward him; thirty +voices, at top pitch, implored, expostulated, urged, almost +commanded. The reverberation of the shouting was as the plunge +of a cataract. + +It was the uprising of The People; the thunder of the outbreak of +revolt; the mob demanding to be led, aroused at last, imperious, +resistless, overwhelming. It was the blind fury of insurrection, +the brute, many-tongued, red-eyed, bellowing for guidance, baring +its teeth, unsheathing its claws, imposing its will with the +abrupt, resistless pressure of the relaxed piston, inexorable, +knowing no pity. + +"No, no," implored Annie Derrick. "No, Magnus, don't sign." + +"He must," declared Harran, shouting in her ear to make himself +heard, "he must. Don't you understand?" + +Again the crowd surged forward, roaring. Mrs. Derrick was swept +back, pushed to one side. Her husband no longer belonged to her. +She paid the penalty for being the wife of a great man. The +world, like a colossal iron wedge, crushed itself between. She +was thrust to the wall. The throng of men, stamping, surrounded +Magnus; she could no longer see him, but, terror-struck, she +listened. There was a moment's lull, then a vast thunder of +savage jubilation. Magnus had signed. + +Harran found his mother leaning against the wall, her hands shut +over her ears; her eyes, dilated with fear, brimming with tears. +He led her from the harness room to the outer room, where Mrs. +Tree and Hilma took charge of her, and then, impatient, refusing +to answer the hundreds of anxious questions that assailed him, +hurried back to the harness room. +Already the balloting was in progress, Osterman acting as +temporary chairman on the very first ballot he was made secretary +of the League pro tem., and Magnus unanimously chosen for its +President. An executive committee was formed, which was to meet +the next day at the Los Muertos ranch house. + +It was half-past one o'clock. In the barn outside the greater +number of the guests had departed. Long since the musicians had +disappeared. There only remained the families of the ranch +owners involved in the meeting in the harness room. These +huddled in isolated groups in corners of the garish, echoing +barn, the women in their wraps, the young men with their coat +collars turned up against the draughts that once more made +themselves felt. + +For a long half hour the loud hum of eager conversation continued +to issue from behind the door of the harness room. Then, at +length, there was a prolonged scraping of chairs. The session +was over. The men came out in groups, searching for their +families. + +At once the homeward movement began. Every one was worn out. +Some of the ranchers' daughters had gone to sleep against their +mothers' shoulders. + +Billy, the stableman, and his assistant were awakened, and the +teams were hitched up. The stable yard was full of a maze of +swinging lanterns and buggy lamps. The horses fretted, champing +the bits; the carry-alls creaked with the straining of leather +and springs as they received their loads. At every instant one +heard the rattle of wheels. as vehicle after vehicle disappeared +in the night. + +A fine, drizzling rain was falling, and the lamps began to show +dim in a vague haze of orange light. + +Magnus Derrick was the last to go. At the doorway of the barn he +found Annixter, the roll of names--which it had been decided he +was to keep in his safe for the moment--under his arm. Silently +the two shook hands. Magnus departed. The grind of the wheels +of his carry-all grated sharply on the gravel of the driveway in +front of the ranch house, then, with a hollow roll across a +little plank bridge, gained the roadway. For a moment the beat +of the horses' hoofs made itself heard on the roadway. It +ceased. Suddenly there was a great silence. + +Annixter, in the doorway of the great barn, stood looking about +him for a moment, alone, thoughtful. The barn was empty. That +astonishing evening had come to an end. The whirl of things and +people, the crowd of dancers, Delaney, the gun fight, Hilma Tree, +her eyes fixed on him in mute confession, the rabble in the +harness room, the news of the regrade, the fierce outburst of +wrath, the hasty organising of the League, all went spinning +confusedly through his recollection. But he was exhausted. Time +enough in the morning to think it all over. By now it was +raining sharply. He put the roll of names into his inside +pocket, threw a sack over his head and shoulders, and went down +to the ranch house. + +But in the harness room, lighted by the glittering lanterns and +flaring lamps, in the midst of overturned chairs, spilled liquor, +cigar stumps, and broken glasses, Vanamee and Presley still +remained talking, talking. At length, they rose, and came out +upon the floor of the barn and stood for a moment looking about +them. + +Billy, the stableman, was going the rounds of the walls, putting +out light after light. By degrees, the vast interior was growing +dim. Upon the roof overhead the rain drummed incessantly, the +eaves dripping. The floor was littered with pine needles, bits +of orange peel, ends and fragments of torn organdies and muslins +and bits of tissue paper from the "Phrygian Bonnets" and "Liberty +Caps." The buckskin mare in the stall, dozing on three legs, +changed position with a long sigh. The sweat stiffening the hair +upon her back and loins, as it dried, gave off a penetrating, +ammoniacal odour that mingled with the stale perfume of sachet +and wilted flowers. + +Presley and Vanamee stood looking at the deserted barn. There +was a long silence. Then Presley said: + +"Well ... what do you think of it all?" + +"I think," answered Vanamee slowly, "I think that there was a +dance in Brussels the night before Waterloo." + + + +BOOK II + +CHAPTER I + + +In his office at San Francisco, seated before a massive desk of +polished redwood, very ornate, Lyman Derrick sat dictating +letters to his typewriter, on a certain morning early in the +spring of the year. The subdued monotone of his voice proceeded +evenly from sentence to sentence, regular, precise, businesslike. + +"I have the honour to acknowledge herewith your favour of the +14th instant, and in reply would state----" + +"Please find enclosed draft upon New Orleans to be applied as per +our understanding----" + +"In answer to your favour No. 1107, referring to the case of the +City and County of San Francisco against Excelsior Warehouse & +Storage Co., I would say----" + +His voice continued, expressionless, measured, distinct. While +he spoke, he swung slowly back and forth in his leather swivel +chair, his elbows resting on the arms, his pop eyes fixed vaguely +upon the calendar on the opposite wall, winking at intervals when +he paused, searching for a word. + +"That's all for the present," he said at length. + +Without reply, the typewriter rose and withdrew, thrusting her +pencil into the coil of her hair, closing the door behind her, +softly, discreetly. + +When she had gone, Lyman rose, stretching himself putting up +three fingers to hide his yawn. To further loosen his muscles, +he took a couple of turns the length of he room, noting with +satisfaction its fine appointments, the padded red carpet, the +dull olive green tint of the walls, the few choice engravings-- +portraits of Marshall, Taney, Field, and a coloured lithograph-- +excellently done--of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado--the deep- +seated leather chairs, the large and crowded bookcase (topped +with a bust of James Lick, and a huge greenish globe), the waste +basket of woven coloured grass, made by Navajo Indians, the +massive silver inkstand on the desk, the elaborate filing +cabinet, complete in every particular, and the shelves of tin +boxes, padlocked, impressive, grave, bearing the names of +clients, cases and estates. + +He was between thirty-one and thirty-five years of age. Unlike +Harran, he resembled his mother, but he was much darker than +Annie Derrick and his eyes were much fuller, the eyeball +protruding, giving him a pop-eyed, foreign expression, quite +unusual and unexpected. His hair was black, and he wore a small, +tight, pointed mustache, which he was in the habit of pushing +delicately upward from the corners of his lips with the ball of +his thumb, the little finger extended. As often as he made this +gesture, he prefaced it with a little twisting gesture of the +forearm in order to bring his cuff into view, and, in fact, this +movement by itself was habitual. + +He was dressed carefully, his trousers creased, a pink rose in +his lapel. His shoes were of patent leather, his cutaway coat +was of very rough black cheviot, his double-breasted waistcoat of +tan covered cloth with buttons of smoked pearl. An Ascot scarf-- +a great puff of heavy black silk--was at his neck, the knot +transfixed by a tiny golden pin set off with an opal and four +small diamonds. + +At one end of the room were two great windows of plate glass, and +pausing at length before one of these, Lyman selected a cigarette +from his curved box of oxydized silver, lit it and stood looking +down and out, willing to be idle for a moment, amused and +interested in the view. + +His office was on the tenth floor of the EXCHANGE BUILDING, a +beautiful, tower-like affair of white stone, that stood on the +corner of Market Street near its intersection with Kearney, the +most imposing office building of the city. + +Below him the city swarmed tumultuous through its grooves, the +cable-cars starting and stopping with a gay jangling of bells and +a strident whirring of jostled glass windows. Drays and carts +clattered over the cobbles, and an incessant shuffling of +thousands of feet rose from the pavement. Around Lotta's +fountain the baskets of the flower sellers, crammed with +chrysanthemums, violets, pinks, roses, lilies, hyacinths, set a +brisk note of colour in the grey of the street. + +But to Lyman's notion the general impression of this centre of +the city's life was not one of strenuous business activity. It +was a continuous interest in small things, a people ever willing +to be amused at trifles, refusing to consider serious matters-- +good-natured, allowing themselves to be imposed upon, taking life +easily--generous, companionable, enthusiastic; living, as it +were, from day to day, in a place where the luxuries of life were +had without effort; in a city that offered to consideration the +restlessness of a New York, without its earnestness; the serenity +of a Naples, without its languor; the romance of a Seville, +without its picturesqueness. + +As Lyman turned from the window, about to resume his work, the +office boy appeared at the door. + +"The man from the lithograph company, sir," announced the boy. + +"Well, what does he want?" demanded Lyman, adding, however, upon +the instant: " Show him in." + +A young man entered, carrying a great bundle, which he deposited +on a chair, with a gasp of relief, exclaiming, all out of breath: + +"From the Standard Lithograph Company." + +"What is?" + +"Don't know," replied the other. "Maps, I guess." + +"I don't want any maps. Who sent them? I guess you're +mistaken." +Lyman tore the cover from the top of the package, drawing out one +of a great many huge sheets of white paper, folded eight times. +Suddenly, he uttered an exclamation: + +"Ah, I see. They ARE maps. But these should not have come here. +They are to go to the regular office for distribution." He wrote +a new direction on the label of the package: "Take them to that +address," he went on. "I'll keep this one here. The others go +to that address. If you see Mr. Darrell, tell him that Mr. +Derrick--you get the name--Mr. Derrick may not be able to get +around this afternoon, but to go ahead with any business just the +same." + +The young man departed with the package and Lyman, spreading out +the map upon the table, remained for some time studying it +thoughtfully. + +It was a commissioner's official railway map of the State of +California, completed to March 30th of that year. Upon it the +different railways of the State were accurately plotted in +various colours, blue, green, yellow. However, the blue, the +yellow, and the green were but brief traceries, very short, +isolated, unimportant. At a little distance these could hardly +be seen. The whole map was gridironed by a vast, complicated +network of red lines marked P. and S. W. R. R. These +centralised at San Francisco and thence ramified and spread +north, east, and south, to every quarter of the State. From +Coles, in the topmost corner of the map, to Yuma in the lowest, +from Reno on one side to San Francisco on the other, ran the +plexus of red, a veritable system of blood circulation, +complicated, dividing, and reuniting, branching, splitting, +extending, throwing out feelers, off-shoots, tap roots, feeders-- +diminutive little blood suckers that shot out from the main +jugular and went twisting up into some remote county, laying hold +upon some forgotten village or town, involving it in one of a +myriad branching coils, one of a hundred tentacles, drawing it, +as it were, toward that centre from which all this system sprang. + +The map was white, and it seemed as if all the colour which +should have gone to vivify the various counties, towns, and +cities marked upon it had been absorbed by that huge, sprawling +organism, with its ruddy arteries converging to a central point. +It was as though the State had been sucked white and colourless, +and against this pallid background the red arteries of the +monster stood out, swollen with life-blood, reaching out to +infinity, gorged to bursting; an excrescence, a gigantic parasite +fattening upon the life-blood of an entire commonwealth. + +However, in an upper corner of the map appeared the names of the +three new commissioners: Jones McNish for the first district, +Lyman Derrick for the second, and James Darrell for the third. + +Nominated in the Democratic State convention in the fall of the +preceding year, Lyman, backed by the coteries of San Francisco +bosses in the pay of his father's political committee of +ranchers, had been elected together with Darrell, the candidate +of the Pueblo and Mojave road, and McNish, the avowed candidate +of the Pacific and Southwestern. Darrell was rabidly against the +P. and S. W., McNish rabidly for it. Lyman was supposed to be +the conservative member of the board, the ranchers' candidate, it +was true, and faithful to their interests, but a calm man, +deliberative, swayed by no such violent emotions as his +colleagues. + +Osterman's dexterity had at last succeeded in entangling Magnus +inextricably in the new politics. The famous League, organised +in the heat of passion the night of Annixter's barn dance, had +been consolidated all through the winter months. Its executive +committee, of which Magnus was chairman, had been, through +Osterman's manipulation, merged into the old committee composed +of Broderson, Annixter, and himself. Promptly thereat he had +resigned the chairmanship of this committee, thus leaving Magnus +at its head. Precisely as Osterman had planned, Magnus was now +one of them. The new committee accordingly had two objects in +view: to resist the attempted grabbing of their lands by the +Railroad, and to push forward their own secret scheme of electing +a board of railroad commissioners who should regulate wheat rates +so as to favour the ranchers of the San Joaquin. The land cases +were promptly taken to the courts and the new grading--fixing the +price of the lands at twenty and thirty dollars an acre instead +of two--bitterly and stubbornly fought. But delays occurred, the +process of the law was interminable, and in the intervals the +committee addressed itself to the work of seating the "Ranchers' +Commission," as the projected Board of Commissioners came to be +called. + +It was Harran who first suggested that his brother, Lyman, be put +forward as the candidate for this district. At once the +proposition had a great success. Lyman seemed made for the +place. While allied by every tie of blood to the ranching +interests, he had never been identified with them. He was city- +bred. The Railroad would not be over-suspicious of him. He was +a good lawyer, a good business man, keen, clear-headed, far- +sighted, had already some practical knowledge of politics, having +served a term as assistant district attorney, and even at the +present moment occupying the position of sheriff's attorney. +More than all, he was the son of Magnus Derrick; he could be +relied upon, could be trusted implicitly to remain loyal to the +ranchers' cause. + +The campaign for Railroad Commissioner had been very interesting. +At the very outset Magnus's committee found itself involved in +corrupt politics. The primaries had to be captured at all costs +and by any means, and when the convention assembled it was found +necessary to buy outright the votes of certain delegates. The +campaign fund raised by contributions from Magnus, Annixter, +Broderson, and Osterman was drawn upon to the extent of five +thousand dollars. + +Only the committee knew of this corruption. The League, ignoring +ways and means, supposed as a matter of course that the campaign +was honorably conducted. + +For a whole week after the consummation of this part of the deal, +Magnus had kept to his house, refusing to be seen, alleging that +he was ill, which was not far from the truth. The shame of the +business, the loathing of what he had done, were to him things +unspeakable. He could no longer look Harran in the face. He +began a course of deception with his wife. More than once, he +had resolved to break with the whole affair, resigning his +position, allowing the others to proceed without him. But now it +was too late. He was pledged. He had joined the League. He was +its chief, and his defection might mean its disintegration at the +very time when it needed all its strength to fight the land +cases. More than a mere deal in bad politics was involved. +There was the land grab. His withdrawal from an unholy cause +would mean the weakening, perhaps the collapse, of another cause +that he believed to be righteous as truth itself. He was +hopelessly caught in the mesh. Wrong seemed indissolubly knitted +into the texture of Right. He was blinded, dizzied, overwhelmed, +caught in the current of events, and hurried along he knew not +where. He resigned himself. + +In the end, and after much ostentatious opposition on the part of +the railroad heelers, Lyman was nominated and subsequently +elected. + +When this consummation was reached Magnus, Osterman, Broderson, +and Annixter stared at each other. Their wildest hopes had not +dared to fix themselves upon so easy a victory as this. It was +not believable that the corporation would allow itself to be +fooled so easily, would rush open-eyed into the trap. How had it +happened? + +Osterman, however, threw his hat into the air with wild whoops of +delight. Old Broderson permitted himself a feeble cheer. Even +Magnus beamed satisfaction. The other members of the League, +present at the time, shook hands all around and spoke of opening +a few bottles on the strength of the occasion. Annixter alone +was recalcitrant. + +"It's too easy," he declared. "No, I'm not satisfied. Where's +Shelgrim in all this? Why don't he show his hand, damn his +soul? The thing is yellow, I tell you. There's a big fish in +these waters somewheres. I don't know his name, and I don't know +his game, but he's moving round off and on, just out of sight. +If you think you've netted him, I DON'T, that's all I've got to +say." + +But he was jeered down as a croaker. There was the Commission. +He couldn't get around that, could he? There was Darrell and +Lyman Derrick, both pledged to the ranches. Good Lord, he was +never satisfied. He'd be obstinate till the very last gun was +fired. Why, if he got drowned in a river he'd float upstream +just to be contrary. + +In the course of time, the new board was seated. For the first +few months of its term, it was occupied in clearing up the +business left over by the old board and in the completion of the +railway map. But now, the decks were cleared. It was about to +address itself to the consideration of a revision of the tariff +for the carriage of grain between the San Joaquin Valley and +tide-water. + +Both Lyman and Darrell were pledged to an average ten per cent. +cut of the grain rates throughout the entire State. + +The typewriter returned with the letters for Lyman to sign, and +he put away the map and took up his morning's routine of +business, wondering, the while, what would become of his practice +during the time he was involved in the business of the Ranchers' +Railroad Commission. + +But towards noon, at the moment when Lyman was drawing off a +glass of mineral water from the siphon that stood at his elbow, +there was an interruption. Some one rapped vigorously upon the +door, which was immediately after opened, and Magnus and Harran +came in, followed by Presley. + +"Hello, hello!" cried Lyman, jumping up, extending his hands, +"why, here's a surprise. I didn't expect you all till to-night. +Come in, come in and sit down. Have a glass of sizz-water, +Governor." + +The others explained that they had come up from Bonneville the +night before, as the Executive Committee of the League had +received a despatch from the lawyers it had retained to fight the +Railroad, that the judge of the court in San Francisco, where the +test cases were being tried, might be expected to hand down his +decision the next day. + +Very soon after the announcement of the new grading of the +ranchers' lands, the corporation had offered, through S. Behrman, +to lease the disputed lands to the ranchers at a nominal figure. +The offer had been angrily rejected, and the Railroad had put up +the lands for sale at Ruggles's office in Bonneville. At the +exorbitant price named, buyers promptly appeared--dummy buyers, +beyond shadow of doubt, acting either for the Railroad or for S. +Behrman--men hitherto unknown in the county, men without +property, without money, adventurers, heelers. Prominent among +them, and bidding for the railroad's holdings included on +Annixter's ranch, was Delaney. + +The farce of deeding the corporation's sections to these +fictitious purchasers was solemnly gone through with at Ruggles's +office, the Railroad guaranteeing them possession. The League +refused to allow the supposed buyers to come upon the land, and +the Railroad, faithful to its pledge in the matter of +guaranteeing its dummies possession, at once began suits in +ejectment in the district court in Visalia, the county seat. + +It was the preliminary skirmish, the reconnaisance in force, the +combatants feeling each other's strength, willing to proceed with +caution, postponing the actual death-grip for a while till each +had strengthened its position and organised its forces. + +During the time the cases were on trial at Visalia, S. Behrman +was much in evidence in and about the courts. The trial itself, +after tedious preliminaries, was brief. The ranchers lost. The +test cases were immediately carried up to the United States +Circuit Court in San Francisco. At the moment the decision of +this court was pending. + +"Why, this is news," exclaimed Lyman, in response to the +Governor's announcement; "I did not expect them to be so prompt. +I was in court only last week and there seemed to be no end of +business ahead. I suppose you are very anxious?" + +Magnus nodded. He had seated himself in one of Lyman's deep +chairs, his grey top-hat, with its wide brim, on the floor beside +him. His coat of black broad-cloth that had been tightly packed +in his valise, was yet wrinkled and creased; his trousers were +strapped under his high boots. As he spoke, he stroked the +bridge of his hawklike nose with his bent forefinger. + +Leaning-back in his chair, he watched his two sons with secret +delight. To his eye, both were perfect specimens of their class, +intelligent, well-looking, resourceful. He was intensely proud +of them. He was never happier, never more nearly jovial, never +more erect, more military, more alert, and buoyant than when in +the company of his two sons. He honestly believed that no finer +examples of young manhood existed throughout the entire nation. + +"I think we should win in this court," Harran observed, watching +the bubbles break in his glass. "The investigation has been much +more complete than in the Visalia trial. Our case this time is +too good. It has made too much talk. The court would not dare +render a decision for the Railroad. Why, there's the agreement +in black and white--and the circulars the Railroad issued. How +CAN one get around those?" + +"Well, well, we shall know in a few hours now," remarked Magnus. + +"Oh," exclaimed Lyman, surprised, "it is for this morning, then. +Why aren't you at the court?" + +"It seemed undignified, boy," answered the Governor. "We shall +know soon enough." + +"Good God!" exclaimed Harran abruptly, "when I think of what is +involved. Why, Lyman, it's our home, the ranch house itself, +nearly all Los Muertos, practically our whole fortune, and just +now when there is promise of an enormous crop of wheat. And it +is not only us. + +There are over half a million acres of the San Joaquin involved. +In some cases of the smaller ranches, it is the confiscation of +the whole of the rancher's land. If this thing goes through, it +will absolutely beggar nearly a hundred men. Broderson wouldn't +have a thousand acres to his name. Why, it's monstrous." + +"But the corporations offered to lease these lands," remarked +Lyman. "Are any of the ranchers taking up that offer--or are any +of them buying outright?" + +"Buying! At the new figure!" exclaimed Harran, "at twenty and +thirty an acre! Why, there's not one in ten that CAN. They are +land-poor. And as for leasing--leasing land they virtually own-- +no, there's precious few are doing that, thank God! That would +be acknowledging the railroad's ownership right away--forfeiting +their rights for good. None of the LEAGUERS are doing it, I +know. That would be the rankest treachery." + +He paused for a moment, drinking the rest of the mineral water, +then interrupting Lyman, who was about to speak to Presley, +drawing him into the conversation through politeness, said: +"Matters are just romping right along to a crisis these days. +It's a make or break for the wheat growers of the State now, no +mistake. Here are the land cases and the new grain tariff +drawing to a head at about the same time. If we win our land +cases, there's your new freight rates to be applied, and then all +is beer and skittles. Won't the San Joaquin go wild if we pull +it off, and I believe we will." + +"How we wheat growers are exploited and trapped and deceived at +every turn," observed Magnus sadly. "The courts, the +capitalists, the railroads, each of them in turn hoodwinks us +into some new and wonderful scheme, only to betray us in the end. +Well," he added, turning to Lyman, "one thing at least we can +depend on. We will cut their grain rates for them, eh, Lyman?" + +Lyman crossed his legs and settled himself in his office chair. + +"I have wanted to have a talk with you about that, sir," he said. +"Yes, we will cut the rates--an average 10 per cent. cut +throughout the State, as we are pledged. But I am going to warn +you, Governor, and you, Harran; don't expect too much at first. +The man who, even after twenty years' training in the operation +of railroads, can draw an equitable, smoothly working schedule of +freight rates between shipping point and common point, is capable +of governing the United States. What with main lines, and leased +lines, and points of transfer, and the laws governing common +carriers, and the rulings of the Inter-State Commerce Commission, +the whole matter has become so confused that Vanderbilt himself +couldn't straighten it out. And how can it be expected that +railroad commissions who are chosen--well, let's be frank--as +ours was, for instance, from out a number of men who don't know +the difference between a switching charge and a differential +rate, are going to regulate the whole business in six months' +time? Cut rates; yes, any fool can do that; any fool can write +one dollar instead of two, but if you cut too low by a fraction +of one per cent. and if the railroad can get out an injunction, +tie you up and show that your new rate prevents the road being +operated at a profit, how are you any better off?" + +"Your conscientiousness does you credit, Lyman," said the +Governor. "I respect you for it, my son. I know you will be +fair to the railroad. That is all we want. Fairness to the +corporation is fairness to the farmer, and we won't expect you to +readjust the whole matter out of hand. Take your time. We can +afford to wait." + +"And suppose the next commission is a railroad board, and +reverses all our figures?" + +The one-time mining king, the most redoubtable poker player of +Calaveras County, permitted himself a momentary twinkle of his +eyes. + +"By then it will be too late. We will, all of us, have made our +fortunes by then." + +The remark left Presley astonished out of all measure He never +could accustom himself to these strange lapses in the Governor's +character. Magnus was by nature a public man, judicious, +deliberate, standing firm for principle, yet upon rare occasion, +by some such remark as this, he would betray the presence of a +sub-nature of recklessness, inconsistent, all at variance with +his creeds and tenets. + +At the very bottom, when all was said and done, Magnus remained +the Forty-niner. Deep down in his heart the spirit of the +Adventurer yet persisted. "We will all of us have made fortunes +by then." That was it precisely. "After us the deluge." For +all his public spirit, for all his championship of justice and +truth, his respect for law, Magnus remained the gambler, willing +to play for colossal stakes, to hazard a fortune on the chance of +winning a million. It was the true California spirit that found +expression through him, the spirit of the West, unwilling to +occupy itself with details, refusing to wait, to be patient, to +achieve by legitimate plodding; the miner's instinct of wealth +acquired in a single night prevailed, in spite of all. It was in +this frame of mind that Magnus and the multitude of other +ranchers of whom he was a type, farmed their ranches. They had +no love for their land. They were not attached to the soil. +They worked their ranches as a quarter of a century before they +had worked their mines. To husband the resources of their +marvellous San Joaquin, they considered niggardly, petty, +Hebraic. To get all there was out of the land, to squeeze it +dry, to exhaust it, seemed their policy. When, at last, the land +worn out, would refuse to yield, they would invest their money in +something else; by then, they would all have made fortunes. They +did not care. "After us the deluge." + +Lyman, however, was obviously uneasy, willing to change the +subject. He rose to his feet, pulling down his cuffs. + +"By the way," he observed, "I want you three to lunch with me to- +day at my club. It is close by. You can wait there for news of +the court's decision as well as anywhere else, and I should like +to show you the place. I have just joined." + +At the club, when the four men were seated at a small table in +the round window of the main room, Lyman's popularity with all +classes was very apparent. Hardly a man entered that did not +call out a salutation to him, some even coming over to shake his +hand. He seemed to be every man's friend, and to all he seemed +equally genial. His affability, even to those whom he disliked, +was unfailing. + +"See that fellow yonder," he said to Magnus, indicating a certain +middle-aged man, flamboyantly dressed, who wore his hair long, +who was afflicted with sore eyes, and the collar of whose velvet +coat was sprinkled with dandruff, "that's Hartrath, the artist, a +man absolutely devoid of even the commonest decency. How he got +in here is a mystery to me." + +Yet, when this Hartrath came across to say "How do you do" to +Lyman, Lyman was as eager in his cordiality as his warmest friend +could have expected. + +"Why the devil are you so chummy with him, then?" observed Harran +when Hartrath had gone away. + +Lyman's explanation was vague. The truth of the matter was, that +Magnus's oldest son was consumed by inordinate ambition. +Political preferment was his dream, and to the realisation of +this dream popularity was an essential. Every man who could +vote, blackguard or gentleman, was to be conciliated, if +possible. He made it his study to become known throughout the +entire community--to put influential men under obligations to +himself. He never forgot a name or a face. With everybody he +was the hail-fellow-well-met. His ambition was not trivial. In +his disregard for small things, he resembled his father. +Municipal office had no attraction for him. His goal was higher. +He had planned his life twenty years ahead. Already Sheriff's +Attorney, Assistant District Attorney and Railroad Commissioner, +he could, if he desired, attain the office of District Attorney +itself. Just now, it was a question with him whether or not it +would be politic to fill this office. Would it advance or +sidetrack him in the career he had outlined for himself? Lyman +wanted to be something better than District Attorney, better than +Mayor, than State Senator, or even than member of the United +States Congress. He wanted to be, in fact, what his father was +only in name--to succeed where Magnus had failed. He wanted to +be governor of the State. He had put his teeth together, and, +deaf to all other considerations, blind to all other issues, he +worked with the infinite slowness, the unshakable tenacity of the +coral insect to this one end. + +After luncheon was over, Lyman ordered cigars and liqueurs, and +with the three others returned to the main room of the club. +However, their former place in the round window was occupied. A +middle-aged man, with iron grey hair and moustache, who wore a +frock coat and a white waistcoat, and in some indefinable manner +suggested a retired naval officer, was sitting at their table +smoking a long, thin cigar. At sight of him, Presley became +animated. He uttered a mild exclamation: + +"Why, isn't that Mr. Cedarquist?" + +"Cedarquist?" repeated Lyman Derrick. "I know him well. Yes, of +course, it is," he continued. "Governor, you must know him. He +is one of our representative men. You would enjoy talking to +him. He was the head of the big Atlas Iron Works. They have +shut down recently, you know. Not failed exactly, but just +ceased to be a paying investment, and Cedarquist closed them out. +He has other interests, though. He's a rich man--a capitalist." + +Lyman brought the group up to the gentleman in question and +introduced them. +"Mr. Magnus Derrick, of course," observed Cedarquist, as he took +the Governor's hand. "I've known you by repute for some time, +sir. This is a great pleasure, I assure you." Then, turning to +Presley, he added: "Hello, Pres, my boy. How is the great, the +very great Poem getting on?" + +"It's not getting on at all, sir," answered Presley, in some +embarrassment, as they all sat down. "In fact, I've about given +up the idea. There's so much interest in what you might call +'living issues' down at Los Muertos now, that I'm getting further +and further from it every day." + +"I should say as much," remarked the manufacturer, turning +towards Magnus. "I'm watching your fight with Shelgrim, Mr. +Derrick, with every degree of interest." He raised his drink of +whiskey and soda. "Here's success to you." + +As he replaced his glass, the artist Hartrath joined the group +uninvited. As a pretext, he engaged Lyman in conversation. +Lyman, he believed, was a man with a "pull" at the City Hall. In +connection with a projected Million-Dollar Fair and Flower +Festival, which at that moment was the talk of the city, certain +statues were to be erected, and Hartrath bespoke Lyman's +influence to further the pretensions of a sculptor friend of his, +who wished to be Art Director of the affair. In the matter of +this Fair and Flower Festival, Hartrath was not lacking in +enthusiasm. He addressed the others with extravagant gestures, +blinking his inflamed eyelids. + +"A million dollars," he exclaimed. "Hey! think of that. Why, +do you know that we have five hundred thousand practically +pledged already? Talk about public spirit, gentlemen, this is +the most public-spirited city on the continent. And the money is +not thrown away. We will have Eastern visitors here by the +thousands--capitalists--men with money to invest. The million we +spend on our fair will be money in our pockets. Ah, you should +see how the women of this city are taking hold of the matter. +They are giving all kinds of little entertainments, teas, 'Olde +Tyme Singing Skules,' amateur theatricals, gingerbread fetes, all +for the benefit of the fund, and the business men, too--pouring +out their money like water. It is splendid, splendid, to see a +community so patriotic." + +The manufacturer, Cedarquist, fixed the artist with a glance of +melancholy interest. + +"And how much," he remarked, "will they contribute--your +gingerbread women and public-spirited capitalists, towards the +blowing up of the ruins of the Atlas Iron Works?" + +"Blowing up? I don't understand," murmured the artist, +surprised. +"When you get your Eastern capitalists out here with your +Million-Dollar Fair," continued Cedarquist, "you don't propose, +do you, to let them see a Million-Dollar Iron Foundry standing +idle, because of the indifference of San Francisco business men? +They might ask pertinent questions, your capitalists, and we +should have to answer that our business men preferred to invest +their money in corner lots and government bonds, rather than to +back up a legitimate, industrial enterprise. We don't want +fairs. We want active furnaces. We don't want public statues, +and fountains, and park extensions and gingerbread fetes. We +want business enterprise. Isn't it like us? Isn't it like us?" +he exclaimed sadly. "What a melancholy comment! San Francisco! +It is not a city--it is a Midway Plaisance. California likes to +be fooled. Do you suppose Shelgrim could convert the whole San +Joaquin Valley into his back yard otherwise? Indifference to +public affairs--absolute indifference, it stamps us all. Our +State is the very paradise of fakirs. You and your Million- +Dollar Fair!" He turned to Hartrath with a quiet smile. "It is +just such men as you, Mr. Hartrath, that are the ruin of us. You +organise a sham of tinsel and pasteboard, put on fool's cap and +bells, beat a gong at a street corner, and the crowd cheers you +and drops nickels into your hat. Your ginger-bread fete; yes, I +saw it in full blast the other night on the grounds of one of +your women's places on Sutter Street. I was on my way home from +the last board meeting of the Atlas Company. A gingerbread fete, +my God! and the Atlas plant shutting down for want of financial +backing. A million dollars spent to attract the Eastern +investor, in order to show him an abandoned rolling mill, wherein +the only activity is the sale of remnant material and scrap +steel." + +Lyman, however, interfered. The situation was becoming strained. +He tried to conciliate the three men--the artist, the +manufacturer, and the farmer, the warring elements. But +Hartrath, unwilling to face the enmity that he felt accumulating +against him, took himself away. A picture of his--"A Study of +the Contra Costa Foot-hills"--was to be raffled in the club rooms +for the benefit of the Fair. He, himself, was in charge of the +matter. He disappeared. + +Cedarquist looked after him with contemplative interest. Then, +turning to Magnus, excused himself for the acridity of his words. + +"He's no worse than many others, and the people of this State and +city are, after all, only a little more addle-headed than other +Americans." It was his favourite topic. Sure of the interest of +his hearers, he unburdened himself. + +"If I were to name the one crying evil of American life, Mr. +Derrick," he continued, "it would be the indifference of the +better people to public affairs. It is so in all our great +centres. There are other great trusts, God knows, in the United +States besides our own dear P. and S. W. Railroad. Every State +has its own grievance. If it is not a railroad trust, it is a +sugar trust, or an oil trust, or an industrial trust, that +exploits the People, BECAUSE THE PEOPLE ALLOW IT. The +indifference of the People is the opportunity of the despot. It +is as true as that the whole is greater than the part, and the +maxim is so old that it is trite--it is laughable. It is +neglected and disused for the sake of some new ingenious and +complicated theory, some wonderful scheme of reorganisation, but +the fact remains, nevertheless, simple, fundamental, everlasting. +The People have but to say 'No,' and not the strongest tyranny, +political, religious, or financial, that was ever organised, +could survive one week." + +The others, absorbed, attentive, approved, nodding their heads in +silence as the manufacturer finished. + +"That's one reason, Mr. Derrick," the other resumed after a +moment, "why I have been so glad to meet you. You and your League +are trying to say 'No' to the trust. I hope you will succeed. +If your example will rally the People to your cause, you will. +Otherwise--" he shook his head. + +"One stage of the fight is to be passed this very day," observed +Magnus. "My sons and myself are expecting hourly news from the +City Hall, a decision in our case is pending." + +"We are both of us fighters, it seems, Mr. Derrick," said +Cedarquist. "Each with his particular enemy. We are well met, +indeed, the farmer and the manufacturer, both in the same grist +between the two millstones of the lethargy of the Public and the +aggression of the Trust, the two great evils of modern America. +Pres, my boy, there is your epic poem ready to hand." + +But Cedarquist was full of another idea. Rarely did so +favourable an opportunity present itself for explaining his +theories, his ambitions. Addressing himself to Magnus, he +continued: + +"Fortunately for myself, the Atlas Company was not my only +investment. I have other interests. The building of ships-- +steel sailing ships--has been an ambition of mine,--for this +purpose, Mr. Derrick, to carry American wheat. For years, I have +studied this question of American wheat, and at last, I have +arrived at a theory. Let me explain. At present, all our +California wheat goes to Liverpool, and from that port is +distributed over the world. But a change is coming. I am sure +of it. You young men," he turned to Presley, Lyman, and Harran, +"will live to see it. Our century is about done. The great word +of this nineteenth century has been Production. The great word +of the twentieth century will be--listen to me, you youngsters-- +Markets. As a market for our Production--or let me take a +concrete example--as a market for our WHEAT, Europe is played +out. Population in Europe is not increasing fast enough to keep +up with the rapidity of our production. In some cases, as in +France, the population is stationary. WE, however, have gone on +producing wheat at a tremendous rate. + +The result is over-production. We supply more than Europe can +eat, and down go the prices. The remedy is NOT in the curtailing +of our wheat areas, but in this, we MUST HAVE NEW MARKETS, +GREATER MARKETS. For years we have been sending our wheat from +East to West, from California to Europe. But the time will come +when we must send it from West to East. We must march with the +course of empire, not against it. I mean, we must look to China. +Rice in China is losing its nutritive quality. The Asiatics, +though, must be fed; if not on rice, then on wheat. Why, Mr. +Derrick, if only one-half the population of China ate a half +ounce of flour per man per day all the wheat areas in California +could not feed them. Ah, if I could only hammer that into the +brains of every rancher of the San Joaquin, yes, and of every +owner of every bonanza farm in Dakota and Minnesota. Send your +wheat to China; handle it yourselves; do away with the middleman; +break up the Chicago wheat pits and elevator rings and mixing +houses. When in feeding China you have decreased the European +shipments, the effect is instantaneous. Prices go up in Europe +without having the least effect upon the prices in China. We +hold the key, we have the wheat,--infinitely more than we +ourselves can eat. Asia and Europe must look to America to be +fed. What fatuous neglect of opportunity to continue to deluge +Europe with our surplus food when the East trembles upon the +verge of starvation!" + +The two men, Cedarquist and Magnus, continued the conversation a +little further. The manufacturer's idea was new to the Governor. +He was greatly interested. He withdrew from the conversation. +Thoughtful, he leaned back in his place, stroking the bridge of +his beak-like nose with a crooked forefinger. + +Cedarquist turned to Harran and began asking details as to the +conditions of the wheat growers of the San Joaquin. Lyman still +maintained an attitude of polite aloofness, yawning occasionally +behind three fingers, and Presley was left to the company of his +own thoughts. + +There had been a day when the affairs and grievances of the +farmers of his acquaintance--Magnus, Annixter, Osterman, and old +Broderson--had filled him only with disgust. His mind full of a +great, vague epic poem of the West, he had kept himself apart, +disdainful of what he chose to consider their petty squabbles. +But the scene in Annixter's harness room had thrilled and +uplifted him. He was palpitating with excitement all through the +succeeding months. He abandoned the idea of an epic poem. In +six months he had not written a single verse. Day after day he +trembled with excitement as the relations between the Trust and +League became more and more strained. He saw the matter in its +true light. It was typical. It was the world-old war between +Freedom and Tyranny, and at times his hatred of the railroad +shook him like a crisp and withered reed, while the languid +indifference of the people of the State to the quarrel filled him +with a blind exasperation. + +But, as he had once explained to Vanamee, he must find +expression. He felt that he would suffocate otherwise. He had +begun to keep a journal. As the inclination spurred him, he +wrote down his thoughts and ideas in this, sometimes every day, +sometimes only three or four times a month. Also he flung aside +his books of poems--Milton, Tennyson, Browning, even Homer--and +addressed himself to Mill, Malthus, Young, Poushkin, Henry +George, Schopenhauer. He attacked the subject of Social +Inequality with unbounded enthusiasm. He devoured, rather than +read, and emerged from the affair, his mind a confused jumble of +conflicting notions, sick with over-effort, raging against +injustice and oppression, and with not one sane suggestion as to +remedy or redress. + +The butt of his cigarette scorched his fingers and roused him +from his brooding. In the act of lighting another, he glanced +across the room and was surprised to see two very prettily +dressed young women in the company of an older gentleman, in a +long frock coat, standing before Hartrath's painting, examining +it, their heads upon one side. + +Presley uttered a murmur of surprise. He, himself, was a member +of the club, and the presence of women within its doors, except +on special occasions, was not tolerated. He turned to Lyman +Derrick for an explanation, but this other had also seen the +women and abruptly exclaimed: + +"I declare, I had forgotten about it. Why, this is Ladies' Day, +of course." + +"Why, yes," interposed Cedarquist, glancing at the women over his +shoulder. "Didn't you know? They let 'em in twice a year, you +remember, and this is a double occasion. They are going to +raffle Hartrath's picture,--for the benefit of the Gingerbread +Fair. Why, you are not up to date, Lyman. This is a sacred and +religious rite,--an important public event." + +"Of course, of course," murmured Lyman. He found means to survey +Harran and Magnus. Certainly, neither his father nor his brother +were dressed for the function that impended. He had been stupid. +Magnus invariably attracted attention, and now with his trousers +strapped under his boots, his wrinkled frock coat--Lyman twisted +his cuffs into sight with an impatient, nervous movement of his +wrists, glancing a second time at his brother's pink face, +forward curling, yellow hair and clothes of a country cut. But +there was no help for it. He wondered what were the club +regulations in the matter of bringing in visitors on Ladies' Day. +"Sure enough, Ladies' Day," he remarked, "I am very glad you +struck it, Governor. We can sit right where we are. I guess +this is as good a place as any to see the crowd. It's a good +chance to see all the big guns of the city. Do you expect your +people here, Mr. Cedarquist?" + +"My wife may come, and my daughters," said the manufacturer. + +"Ah," murmured Presley, "so much the better. I was going to give +myself the pleasure of calling upon your daughters, Mr. +Cedarquist, this afternoon." + +"You can save your carfare, Pres," said Cedarquist, "you will see +them here." + +No doubt, the invitations for the occasion had appointed one +o'clock as the time, for between that hour and two, the guests +arrived in an almost unbroken stream. From their point of +vantage in the round window of the main room, Magnus, his two +sons, and Presley looked on very interested. Cedarquist had +excused himself, affirming that he must look out for his women +folk. + +Of every ten of the arrivals, seven, at least, were ladies. They +entered the room--this unfamiliar masculine haunt, where their +husbands, brothers, and sons spent so much of their time--with a +certain show of hesitancy and little, nervous, oblique glances, +moving their heads from side to side like a file of hens +venturing into a strange barn. They came in groups, ushered by a +single member of the club, doing the honours with effusive bows +and polite gestures, indicating the various objects of interest, +pictures, busts, and the like, that decorated the room. + +Fresh from his recollections of Bonneville, Guadalajara, and the +dance in Annixter's barn, Presley was astonished at the beauty of +these women and the elegance of their toilettes. The crowd +thickened rapidly. A murmur of conversation arose, subdued, +gracious, mingled with the soft rustle of silk, grenadines, +velvet. The scent of delicate perfumes spread in the air, Violet +de Parme, Peau d'Espagne. Colours of the most harmonious blends +appeared and disappeared at intervals in the slowly moving press, +touches of lavender-tinted velvets, pale violet crepes and cream- +coloured appliqued laces. + +There seemed to be no need of introductions. Everybody appeared +to be acquainted. There was no awkwardness, no constraint. The +assembly disengaged an impression of refined pleasure. On every +hand, innumerable dialogues seemed to go forward easily and +naturally, without break or interruption, witty, engaging, the +couple never at a loss for repartee. A third party was +gracefully included, then a fourth. Little groups were formed,-- +groups that divided themselves, or melted into other groups, or +disintegrated again into isolated pairs, or lost themselves in +the background of the mass,--all without friction, without +embarrassment,--the whole affair going forward of itself, +decorous, tactful, well-bred. + +At a distance, and not too loud, a stringed orchestra sent up a +pleasing hum. Waiters, with brass buttons on their full dress +coats, went from group to group, silent, unobtrusive, serving +salads and ices. + +But the focus of the assembly was the little space before +Hartrath's painting. It was called "A Study of the Contra Costa +Foothills," and was set in a frame of natural redwood, the bark +still adhering. It was conspicuously displayed on an easel at +the right of the entrance to the main room of the club, and was +very large. In the foreground, and to the left, under the shade +of a live-oak, stood a couple of reddish cows, knee-deep in a +patch of yellow poppies, while in the right-hand corner, to +balance the composition, was placed a girl in a pink dress and +white sunbonnet, in which the shadows were indicated by broad +dashes of pale blue paint. The ladies and young girls examined +the production with little murmurs of admiration, hazarding +remembered phrases, searching for the exact balance between +generous praise and critical discrimination, expressing their +opinions in the mild technicalities of the Art Books and painting +classes. They spoke of atmospheric effects, of middle distance, +of "chiaro-oscuro," of fore-shortening, of the decomposition of +light, of the subordination of individuality to fidelity of +interpretation. + +One tall girl, with hair almost white in its blondness, having +observed that the handling of the masses reminded her strongly of +Corot, her companion, who carried a gold lorgnette by a chain +around her neck, answered: + +"Ah! Millet, perhaps, but not Corot." + +This verdict had an immediate success. It was passed from group +to group. It seemed to imply a delicate distinction that carried +conviction at once. It was decided formally that the reddish +brown cows in the picture were reminiscent of Daubigny, and that +the handling of the masses was altogether Millet, but that the +general effect was not quite Corot. + +Presley, curious to see the painting that was the subject of so +much discussion, had left the group in the round window, and +stood close by Hartrath, craning his head over the shoulders of +the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the reddish cows, the +milk-maid and the blue painted foothills. He was suddenly aware +of Cedarquist's voice in his ear, and, turning about, found +himself face to face with the manufacturer, his wife and his two +daughters. + +There was a meeting. Salutations were exchanged, Presley shaking +hands all around, expressing his delight at seeing his old +friends once more, for he had known the family from his boyhood, +Mrs. Cedarquist being his aunt. Mrs. Cedarquist and her two +daughters declared that the air of Los Muertos must certainly +have done him a world of good. He was stouter, there could be no +doubt of it. A little pale, perhaps. He was fatiguing himself +with his writing, no doubt. Ah, he must take care. Health was +everything, after all. Had he been writing any more verse? Every +month they scanned the magazines, looking for his name. + +Mrs. Cedarquist was a fashionable woman, the president or +chairman of a score of clubs. She was forever running after +fads, appearing continually in the society wherein she moved with +new and astounding proteges--fakirs whom she unearthed no one +knew where, discovering them long in advance of her companions. +Now it was a Russian Countess, with dirty finger nails, who +travelled throughout America and borrowed money; now an Aesthete +who possessed a wonderful collection of topaz gems, who submitted +decorative schemes for the interior arrangement of houses and who +"received" in Mrs. Cedarquist's drawing-rooms dressed in a white +velvet cassock; now a widow of some Mohammedan of Bengal or +Rajputana, who had a blue spot in the middle of her forehead and +who solicited contributions for her sisters in affliction; now a +certain bearded poet, recently back from the Klondike; now a +decayed musician who had been ejected from a young ladies' +musical conservatory of Europe because of certain surprising +pamphlets on free love, and who had come to San Francisco to +introduce the community to the music of Brahms; now a Japanese +youth who wore spectacles and a grey flannel shirt and who, at +intervals, delivered himself of the most astonishing poems, +vague, unrhymed, unmetrical lucubrations, incoherent, bizarre; +now a Christian Scientist, a lean, grey woman, whose creed was +neither Christian nor scientific; now a university professor, +with the bristling beard of an anarchist chief-of-section, and a +roaring, guttural voice, whose intenseness left him gasping and +apoplectic; now a civilised Cherokee with a mission; now a female +elocutionist, whose forte was Byron's Songs of Greece; now a high +caste Chinaman; now a miniature painter; now a tenor, a pianiste, +a mandolin player, a missionary, a drawing master, a virtuoso, a +collector, an Armenian, a botanist with a new flower, a critic +with a new theory, a doctor with a new treatment. + +And all these people had a veritable mania for declamation and +fancy dress. The Russian Countess gave talks on the prisons of +Siberia, wearing the headdress and pinchbeck ornaments of a Slav +bride; the Aesthete, in his white cassock, gave readings on +obscure questions of art and ethics. The widow of India, in the +costume of her caste, described the social life of her people at +home. The bearded poet, perspiring in furs and boots of reindeer +skin, declaimed verses of his own composition about the wild life +of the Alaskan mining camps. The Japanese youth, in the silk +robes of the Samurai two-sworded nobles, read from his own works-- +"The flat-bordered earth, nailed down at night, rusting under +the darkness," "The brave, upright rains that came down like +errands from iron-bodied yore-time." The Christian Scientist, in +funereal, impressive black, discussed the contra-will and pan- +psychic hylozoism. The university professor put on a full dress +suit and lisle thread gloves at three in the afternoon and before +literary clubs and circles bellowed extracts from Goethe and +Schiler in the German, shaking his fists, purple with vehemence. +The Cherokee, arrayed in fringed buckskin and blue beads, rented +from a costumer, intoned folk songs of his people in the +vernacular. The elocutionist in cheese-cloth toga and tin +bracelets, rendered "The Isles of Greece, where burning Sappho +loved and sung." The Chinaman, in the robes of a mandarin, +lectured on Confucius. The Armenian, in fez and baggy trousers, +spoke of the Unspeakable Turk. The mandolin player, dressed like +a bull fighter, held musical conversaziones, interpreting the +peasant songs of Andalusia. + +It was the Fake, the eternal, irrepressible Sham; glib, nimble, +ubiquitous, tricked out in all the paraphernalia of imposture, an +endless defile of charlatans that passed interminably before the +gaze of the city, marshalled by "lady presidents," exploited by +clubs of women, by literary societies, reading circles, and +culture organisations. The attention the Fake received, the time +devoted to it, the money which it absorbed, were incredible. It +was all one that impostor after impostor was exposed; it was all +one that the clubs, the circles, the societies were proved beyond +doubt to have been swindled. The more the Philistine press of +the city railed and guyed, the more the women rallied to the +defence of their protege of the hour. That their favourite was +persecuted, was to them a veritable rapture. Promptly they +invested the apostle of culture with the glamour of a martyr. + +The fakirs worked the community as shell-game tricksters work a +county fair, departing with bursting pocket-books, passing on the +word to the next in line, assured that the place was not worked +out, knowing well that there was enough for all. + +More frequently the public of the city, unable to think of more +than one thing at one time, prostrated itself at the feet of a +single apostle, but at other moments, such as the present, when a +Flower Festival or a Million-Dollar Fair aroused enthusiasm in +all quarters, the occasion was one of gala for the entire Fake. +The decayed professors, virtuosi, litterateurs, and artists +thronged to the place en masse. Their clamour filled all the air. +On every hand one heard the scraping of violins, the tinkling of +mandolins, the suave accents of "art talks," the incoherencies of +poets, the declamation of elocutionists, the inarticulate +wanderings of the Japanese, the confused mutterings of the +Cherokee, the guttural bellowing of the German university +professor, all in the name of the Million-Dollar Fair. Money to +the extent of hundreds of thousands was set in motion. + +Mrs. Cedarquist was busy from morning until night. One after +another, she was introduced to newly arrived fakirs. To each +poet, to each litterateur, to each professor she addressed the +same question: + +"How long have you known you had this power?" + +She spent her days in one quiver of excitement and jubilation. +She was "in the movement." The people of the city were awakening +to a Realisation of the Beautiful, to a sense of the higher needs +of life. This was Art, this was Literature, this was Culture and +Refinement. The Renaissance had appeared in the West. + +She was a short, rather stout, red-faced, very much over-dressed +little woman of some fifty years. She was rich in her own name, +even before her marriage, being a relative of Shelgrim himself +and on familiar terms with the great financier and his family. +Her husband, while deploring the policy of the railroad, saw no +good reason for quarrelling with Shelgrim, and on more than one +occasion had dined at his house. +On this occasion, delighted that she had come upon a "minor +poet," she insisted upon presenting him to Hartrath. + +"You two should have so much in common," she explained. + +Presley shook the flaccid hand of the artist, murmuring +conventionalities, while Mrs. Cedarquist hastened to say: + +"I am sure you know Mr. Presley's verse, Mr. Hartrath. You +should, believe me. You two have much in common. I can see so +much that is alike in your modes of interpreting nature. In Mr. +Presley's sonnet, 'The Better Part,' there is the same note as in +your picture, the same sincerity of tone, the same subtlety of +touch, the same nuances,--ah." + +"Oh, my dear Madame," murmured the artist, interrupting Presley's +impatient retort; "I am a mere bungler. You don't mean quite +that, I am sure. I am too sensitive. It is my cross. Beauty," +he closed his sore eyes with a little expression of pain, "beauty +unmans me." + +But Mrs. Cedarquist was not listening. Her eyes were fixed on +the artist's luxuriant hair, a thick and glossy mane, that all +but covered his coat collar. + +"Leonine!" she murmured--" leonine! Like Samson of old." + +However, abruptly bestirring herself, she exclaimed a second +later: + +"But I must run away. I am selling tickets for you this +afternoon, Mr. Hartrath. I am having such success. Twenty-five +already. Mr. Presley, you will take two chances, I am sure, and, +oh, by the way, I have such good news. You know I am one of the +lady members of the subscription committee for our Fair, and you +know we approached Mr. Shelgrim for a donation to help along. +Oh, such a liberal patron, a real Lorenzo di' Medici. In the +name of the Pacific and Southwestern he has subscribed, think of +it, five thousand dollars; and yet they will talk of the meanness +of the railroad." + +"Possibly it is to his interest," murmured Presley. "The fairs +and festivals bring people to the city over his railroad." + +But the others turned on him, expostulating. + +"Ah, you Philistine," declared Mrs. Cedarquist. "And this from +YOU!, Presley; to attribute such base motives----" + +"If the poets become materialised, Mr. Presley," declared +Hartrath, "what can we say to the people?" + +"And Shelgrim encourages your million-dollar fairs and fetes," +said a voice at Presley's elbow, "because it is throwing dust in +the people's eyes." + +The group turned about and saw Cedarquist, who had come up +unobserved in time to catch the drift of the talk. But he spoke +without bitterness; there was even a good-humoured twinkle in his +eyes. + +"Yes," he continued, smiling, "our dear Shelgrim promotes your +fairs, not only as Pres says, because it is money in his pocket, +but because it amuses the people, distracts their attention from +the doings of his railroad. When Beatrice was a baby and had +little colics, I used to jingle my keys in front of her nose, and +it took her attention from the pain in her tummy; so Shelgrim." + +The others laughed good-humouredly, protesting, nevertheless, and +Mrs. Cedarquist shook her finger in warning at the artist and +exclaimed: + +"The Philistines be upon thee, Samson!" + +"By the way," observed Hartrath, willing to change the subject, +"I hear you are on the Famine Relief Committee. Does your work +progress?" + +"Oh, most famously, I assure you," she said. "Such a movement as +we have started. Those poor creatures. The photographs of them +are simply dreadful. I had the committee to luncheon the other +day and we passed them around. We are getting subscriptions from +all over the State, and Mr. Cedarquist is to arrange for the +ship." + +The Relief Committee in question was one of a great number that +had been formed in California--and all over the Union, for the +matter of that--to provide relief for the victims of a great +famine in Central India. The whole world had been struck with +horror at the reports of suffering and mortality in the affected +districts, and had hastened to send aid. Certain women of San +Francisco, with Mrs. Cedarquist at their head, had organised a +number of committees, but the manufacturer's wife turned the +meetings of these committees into social affairs--luncheons, +teas, where one discussed the ways and means of assisting the +starving Asiatics over teacups and plates of salad. + +Shortly afterward a mild commotion spread throughout the +assemblage of the club's guests. The drawing of the numbers in +the raffle was about to be made. Hartrath, in a flurry of +agitation, excused himself. Cedarquist took Presley by the arm. + +"Pres, let's get out of this," he said. "Come into the wine room +and I will shake you for a glass of sherry." + +They had some difficulty in extricating themselves. The main +room where the drawing was to take place suddenly became densely +thronged. All the guests pressed eagerly about the table near +the picture, upon which one of the hall boys had just placed a +ballot box containing the numbers. The ladies, holding their +tickets in their hands, pushed forward. A staccato chatter of +excited murmurs arose. +"What became of Harran and Lyman and the Governor?" inquired +Presley. + +Lyman had disappeared, alleging a business engagement, but Magnus +and his younger son had retired to the library of the club on the +floor above. It was almost deserted. They were deep in earnest +conversation. + +"Harran," said the Governor, with decision, "there is a deal, +there, in what Cedarquist says. Our wheat to China, hey, boy?" + +"It is certainly worth thinking of, sir." + +"It appeals to me, boy; it appeals to me. It's big and there's a +fortune in it. Big chances mean big returns; and I know--your +old father isn't a back number yet, Harran--I may not have so +wide an outlook as our friend Cedarquist, but I am quick to see +my chance. Boy, the whole East is opening, disintegrating before +the Anglo-Saxon. It is time that bread stuffs, as well, should +make markets for themselves in the Orient. Just at this moment, +too, when Lyman will scale down freight rates so we can haul to +tidewater at little cost." + +Magnus paused again, his frown beetling, and in the silence the +excited murmur from the main room of the club, the soprano +chatter of a multitude of women, found its way to the deserted +library. + +"I believe it's worth looking into, Governor," asserted Harran. + +Magnus rose, and, his hands behind him, paced the floor of the +library a couple of times, his imagination all stimulated and +vivid. The great gambler perceived his Chance, the kaleidoscopic +shifting of circumstances that made a Situation. It had come +silently, unexpectedly. He had not seen its approach. Abruptly +he woke one morning to see the combination realised. But also he +saw a vision. A sudden and abrupt revolution in the Wheat. A +new world of markets discovered, the matter as important as the +discovery of America. The torrent of wheat was to be diverted, +flowing back upon itself in a sudden, colossal eddy, stranding +the middleman, the ENTRE-PRENEUR, the elevator-and mixing-house +men dry and despairing, their occupation gone. He saw the farmer +suddenly emancipated, the world's food no longer at the mercy of +the speculator, thousands upon thousands of men set free of the +grip of Trust and ring and monopoly acting for themselves, +selling their own wheat, organising into one gigantic trust, +themselves, sending their agents to all the entry ports of China. +Himself, Annixter, Broderson and Osterman would pool their +issues. He would convince them of the magnificence of the new +movement. They would be its pioneers. Harran would be sent to +Hong Kong to represent the four. They would charter--probably +buy--a ship, perhaps one of Cedarquist's, American built, the +nation's flag at the peak, and the sailing of that ship, gorged +with the crops from Broderson's and Osterman's ranches, from +Quien Sabe and Los Muertos, would be like the sailing of the +caravels from Palos. It would mark a new era; it would make an +epoch. + +With this vision still expanding before the eye of his mind, +Magnus, with Harran at his elbow, prepared to depart. + +They descended to the lower floor and involved themselves for a +moment in the throng of fashionables that blocked the hallway and +the entrance to the main room, where the numbers of the raffle +were being drawn. Near the head of the stairs they encountered +Presley and Cedarquist, who had just come out of the wine room. + +Magnus, still on fire with the new idea, pressed a few questions +upon the manufacturer before bidding him good-bye. He wished to +talk further upon the great subject, interested as to details, +but Cedarquist was vague in his replies. He was no farmer, he +hardly knew wheat when he saw it, only he knew the trend of the +world's affairs; he felt them to be setting inevitably eastward. + +However, his very vagueness was a further inspiration to the +Governor. He swept details aside. He saw only the grand coup, +the huge results, the East conquered, the march of empire rolling +westward, finally arriving at its starting point, the vague, +mysterious Orient. + +He saw his wheat, like the crest of an advancing billow, crossing +the Pacific, bursting upon Asia, flooding the Orient in a golden +torrent. It was the new era. He had lived to see the death of +the old and the birth of the new; first the mine, now the ranch; +first gold, now wheat. Once again he became the pioneer, hardy, +brilliant, taking colossal chances, blazing the way, grasping a +fortune--a million in a single day. All the bigness of his +nature leaped up again within him. At the magnitude of the +inspiration he felt young again, indomitable, the leader at last, +king of his fellows, wresting from fortune at this eleventh hour, +before his old age, the place of high command which so long had +been denied him. At last he could achieve. + +Abruptly Magnus was aware that some one had spoken his name. He +looked about and saw behind him, at a little distance, two +gentlemen, strangers to him. They had withdrawn from the crowd +into a little recess. Evidently having no women to look after, +they had lost interest in the afternoon's affair. Magnus +realised that they had not seen him. One of them was reading +aloud to his companion from an evening edition of that day's +newspaper. It was in the course of this reading that Magnus +caught the sound of his name. He paused, listening, and Presley, +Harran and Cedarquist followed his example. Soon they all +understood. They were listening to the report of the judge's +decision, for which Magnus was waiting--the decision in the case +of the League vs. the Railroad. For the moment, the polite +clamour of the raffle hushed itself--the winning number was being +drawn. The guests held their breath, and in the ensuing silence +Magnus and the others heard these words distinctly: + +". . . . It follows that the title to the lands in question is in +the plaintiff--the Pacific and Southwestern Railroad, and the +defendants have no title, and their possession is wrongful. +There must be findings and judgment for the plaintiff, and it is +so ordered." + +In spite of himself, Magnus paled. Harran shut his teeth with an +oath. Their exaltation of the previous moment collapsed like a +pyramid of cards. The vision of the new movement of the wheat, +the conquest of the East, the invasion of the Orient, seemed only +the flimsiest mockery. With a brusque wrench, they were snatched +back to reality. Between them and the vision, between the fecund +San Joaquin, reeking with fruitfulness, and the millions of Asia +crowding toward the verge of starvation, lay the iron-hearted +monster of steel and steam, implacable, insatiable, huge--its +entrails gorged with the life blood that it sucked from an entire +commonwealth, its ever hungry maw glutted with the harvests that +should have fed the famished bellies of the whole world of the +Orient. + +But abruptly, while the four men stood there, gazing into each +other's faces, a vigorous hand-clapping broke out. The raffle of +Hartrath's picture was over, and as Presley turned about he saw +Mrs. Cedarquist and her two daughters signalling eagerly to the +manufacturer, unable to reach him because of the intervening +crowd. Then Mrs. Cedarquist raised her voice and cried: + +"I've won. I've won." + +Unnoticed, and with but a brief word to Cedarquist, Magnus and +Harran went down the marble steps leading to the street door, +silent, Harran's arm tight around his father's shoulder. + +At once the orchestra struck into a lively air. A renewed murmur +of conversation broke out, and Cedarquist, as he said good-bye to +Presley, looked first at the retreating figures of the ranchers, +then at the gayly dressed throng of beautiful women and debonair +young men, and indicating the whole scene with a single gesture, +said, smiling sadly as he spoke: + +"Not a city, Presley, not a city, but a Midway Plaisance." + + + +II + + +Underneath the Long Trestle where Broderson Creek cut the line of +the railroad and the Upper Road, the ground was low and covered +with a second growth of grey green willows. Along the borders of +the creek were occasional marshy spots, and now and then Hilma +Tree came here to gather water-cresses, which she made into +salads. + +The place was picturesque, secluded, an oasis of green shade in +all the limitless, flat monotony of the surrounding wheat lands. +The creek had eroded deep into the little gully, and no matter +how hot it was on the baking, shimmering levels of the ranches +above, down here one always found one's self enveloped in an +odorous, moist coolness. From time to time, the incessant murmur +of the creek, pouring over and around the larger stones, was +interrupted by the thunder of trains roaring out upon the trestle +overhead, passing on with the furious gallop of their hundreds of +iron wheels, leaving in the air a taint of hot oil, acrid smoke, +and reek of escaping steam. + +On a certain afternoon, in the spring of the year, Hilma was +returning to Quien Sabe from Hooven's by the trail that led from +Los Muertos to Annixter's ranch houses, under the trestle. She +had spent the afternoon with Minna Hooven, who, for the time +being, was kept indoors because of a wrenched ankle. As Hilma +descended into the gravel flats and thickets of willows +underneath the trestle, she decided that she would gather some +cresses for her supper that night. She found a spot around the +base of one of the supports of the trestle where the cresses grew +thickest, and plucked a couple of handfuls, washing them in the +creek and pinning them up in her handkerchief. It made a little, +round, cold bundle, and Hilma, warm from her walk, found a +delicious enjoyment in pressing the damp ball of it to her cheeks +and neck. + +For all the change that Annixter had noted in her upon the +occasion of the barn dance, Hilma remained in many things a young +child. She was never at loss for enjoyment, and could always +amuse herself when left alone. Just now, she chose to drink from +the creek, lying prone on the ground, her face half-buried in the +water, and this, not because she was thirsty, but because it was +a new way to drink. She imagined herself a belated traveller, a +poor girl, an outcast, quenching her thirst at the wayside brook, +her little packet of cresses doing duty for a bundle of clothes. +Night was coming on. Perhaps it would storm. She had nowhere to +go. She would apply at a hut for shelter. + +Abruptly, the temptation to dabble her feet in the creek +presented itself to her. Always she had liked to play in the +water. What a delight now to take off her shoes and stockings +and wade out into the shallows near the bank! She had worn low +shoes that afternoon, and the dust of the trail had filtered in +above the edges. At times, she felt the grit and grey sand on +the soles of her feet, and the sensation had set her teeth on +edge. What a delicious alternative the cold, clean water +suggested, and how easy it would be to do as she pleased just +then, if only she were a little girl. In the end, it was stupid +to be grown up. + +Sitting upon the bank, one finger tucked into the heel of her +shoe, Hilma hesitated. Suppose a train should come! She fancied +she could see the engineer leaning from the cab with a great grin +on his face, or the brakeman shouting gibes at her from the +platform. Abruptly she blushed scarlet. The blood throbbed in +her temples. Her heart beat. +Since the famous evening of the barn dance, Annixter had spoken +to her but twice. Hilma no longer looked after the ranch house +these days. The thought of setting foot within Annixter's +dining-room and bed-room terrified her, and in the end her mother +had taken over that part of her work. Of the two meetings with +the master of Quien Sabe, one had been a mere exchange of good +mornings as the two happened to meet over by the artesian well; +the other, more complicated, had occurred in the dairy-house +again, Annixter, pretending to look over the new cheese press, +asking about details of her work. When this had happened on that +previous occasion, ending with Annixter's attempt to kiss her, +Hilma had been talkative enough, chattering on from one subject +to another, never at a loss for a theme. But this last time was +a veritable ordeal. No sooner had Annixter appeared than her +heart leaped and quivered like that of the hound-harried doe. +Her speech failed her. Throughout the whole brief interview she +had been miserably tongue-tied, stammering monosyllables, +confused, horribly awkward, and when Annixter had gone away, she +had fled to her little room, and bolting the door, had flung +herself face downward on the bed and wept as though her heart +were breaking, she did not know why. + +That Annixter had been overwhelmed with business all through the +winter was an inexpressible relief to Hilma. His affairs took +him away from the ranch continually. He was absent sometimes for +weeks, making trips to San Francisco, or to Sacramento, or to +Bonneville. Perhaps he was forgetting her, overlooking her; and +while, at first, she told herself that she asked nothing better, +the idea of it began to occupy her mind. She began to wonder if +it was really so. + +She knew his trouble. Everybody did. The news of the sudden +forward movement of the Railroad's forces, inaugurating the +campaign, had flared white-hot and blazing all over the country +side. To Hilma's notion, Annixter's attitude was heroic beyond +all expression. His courage in facing the Railroad, as he had +faced Delaney in the barn, seemed to her the pitch of sublimity. +She refused to see any auxiliaries aiding him in his fight. To +her imagination, the great League, which all the ranchers were +joining, was a mere form. Single-handed, Annixter fronted the +monster. But for him the corporation would gobble Quien Sabe, as +a whale would a minnow. He was a hero who stood between them all +and destruction. He was a protector of her family. He was her +champion. She began to mention him in her prayers every night, +adding a further petition to the effect that he would become a +good man, and that he should not swear so much, and that he +should never meet Delaney again. + +However, as Hilma still debated the idea of bathing her feet in +the creek, a train did actually thunder past overhead--the +regular evening Overland,--the through express, that never +stopped between Bakersfield and Fresno. It stormed by with a +deafening clamour, and a swirl of smoke, in a long succession of +way-coaches, and chocolate coloured Pullmans, grimy with the dust +of the great deserts of the Southwest. The quivering of the +trestle's supports set a tremble in the ground underfoot. The +thunder of wheels drowned all sound of the flowing of the creek, +and also the noise of the buckskin mare's hoofs descending from +the trail upon the gravel about the creek, so that Hilma, turning +about after the passage of the train, saw Annixter close at hand, +with the abruptness of a vision. + +He was looking at her, smiling as he rarely did, the firm line of +his out-thrust lower lip relaxed good-humouredly. He had taken +off his campaign hat to her, and though his stiff, yellow hair +was twisted into a bristling mop, the little persistent tuft on +the crown, usually defiantly erect as an Apache's scalp-lock, was +nowhere in sight. + +"Hello, it's you, is it, Miss Hilma?" he exclaimed, getting down +from the buckskin, and allowing her to drink. + +Hilma nodded, scrambling to her feet, dusting her skirt with +nervous pats of both hands. + +Annixter sat down on a great rock close by and, the loop of the +bridle over his arm, lit a cigar, and began to talk. He +complained of the heat of the day, the bad condition of the Lower +Road, over which he had come on his way from a committee meeting +of the League at Los Muertos; of the slowness of the work on the +irrigating ditch, and, as a matter of course, of the general hard +times. + +"Miss Hilma," he said abruptly, "never you marry a ranchman. +He's never out of trouble." + +Hilma gasped, her eyes widening till the full round of the pupil +was disclosed. Instantly, a certain, inexplicable guiltiness +overpowered her with incredible confusion. Her hands trembled as +she pressed the bundle of cresses into a hard ball between her +palms. + +Annixter continued to talk. He was disturbed and excited himself +at this unexpected meeting. Never through all the past winter +months of strenuous activity, the fever of political campaigns, +the harrowing delays and ultimate defeat in one law court after +another, had he forgotten the look in Hilma's face as he stood +with one arm around her on the floor of his barn, in peril of his +life from the buster's revolver. That dumb confession of Hilma's +wide-open eyes had been enough for him. Yet, somehow, he never +had had a chance to act upon it. During the short period when he +could be on his ranch Hilma had always managed to avoid him. +Once, even, she had spent a month, about Christmas time, with her +mother's father, who kept a hotel in San Francisco. + +Now, to-day, however, he had her all to himself. He would put an +end to the situation that troubled him, and vexed him, day after +day, month after month. Beyond question, the moment had come for +something definite, he could not say precisely what. Readjusting +his cigar between his teeth, he resumed his speech. It suited +his humour to take the girl into his confidence, following an +instinct which warned him that this would bring about a certain +closeness of their relations, a certain intimacy. + +"What do you think of this row, anyways, Miss Hilma,--this +railroad fuss in general? Think Shelgrim and his rushers are +going to jump Quien Sabe--are going to run us off the ranch?" + +"Oh, no, sir," protested Hilma, still breathless. "Oh, no, +indeed not." + +"Well, what then?" + +Hilma made a little uncertain movement of ignorance. + +"I don't know what." + +"Well, the League agreed to-day that if the test cases were lost +in the Supreme Court--you know we've appealed to the Supreme +Court, at Washington--we'd fight." + +"Fight?" + +"Yes, fight." + +"Fight like--like you and Mr. Delaney that time with--oh, dear-- +with guns?" + +"I don't know," grumbled Annixter vaguely. "What do YOU think?" + +Hilma's low-pitched, almost husky voice trembled a little as she +replied, "Fighting--with guns--that's so terrible. Oh, those +revolvers in the barn! I can hear them yet. Every shot seemed +like the explosion of tons of powder." + +"Shall we clear out, then? Shall we let Delaney have possession, +and S. Behrman, and all that lot? Shall we give in to them?" + +"Never, never," she exclaimed, her great eyes flashing. + +"YOU wouldn't like to be turned out of your home, would you, Miss +Hilma, because Quien Sabe is your home isn't it? You've lived +here ever since you were as big as a minute. You wouldn't like +to have S. Behrman and the rest of 'em turn you out?" + +"N-no," she murmured. "No, I shouldn't like that. There's mamma +and----" + +"Well, do you think for one second I'm going to let 'em?" cried +Annixter, his teeth tightening on his cigar. "You stay right +where you are. I'll take care of you, right enough. Look here," +he demanded abruptly, "you've no use for that roaring lush, +Delaney, have you?" +"I think he is a wicked man," she declared. "I know the Railroad +has pretended to sell him part of the ranch, and he lets Mr. S. +Behrman and Mr. Ruggles just use him." + +"Right. I thought you wouldn't be keen on him." + +There was a long pause. The buckskin began blowing among the +pebbles, nosing for grass, and Annixter shifted his cigar to the +other corner of his mouth. + +"Pretty place," he muttered, looking around him. Then he added: +"Miss Hilma, see here, I want to have a kind of talk with you, if +you don't mind. I don't know just how to say these sort of +things, and if I get all balled up as I go along, you just set it +down to the fact that I've never had any experience in dealing +with feemale girls; understand? You see, ever since the barn +dance--yes, and long before then--I've been thinking a lot about +you. Straight, I have, and I guess you know it. You're about the +only girl that I ever knew well, and I guess," he declared +deliberately, "you're about the only one I want to know. It's my +nature. You didn't say anything that time when we stood there +together and Delaney was playing the fool, but, somehow, I got +the idea that you didn't want Delaney to do for me one little +bit; that if he'd got me then you would have been sorrier than if +he'd got any one else. Well, I felt just that way about you. I +would rather have had him shoot any other girl in the room than +you; yes, or in the whole State. Why, if anything should happen +to you, Miss Hilma--well, I wouldn't care to go on with anything. +S. Behrman could jump Quien Sabe, and welcome. And Delaney could +shoot me full of holes whenever he got good and ready. I'd quit. +I'd lay right down. I wouldn't care a whoop about anything any +more. You are the only girl for me in the whole world. I didn't +think so at first. I didn't want to. But seeing you around +every day, and seeing how pretty you were, and how clever, and +hearing your voice and all, why, it just got all inside of me +somehow, and now I can't think of anything else. I hate to go to +San Francisco, or Sacramento, or Visalia, or even Bonneville, for +only a day, just because you aren't there, in any of those +places, and I just rush what I've got to do so as I can get back +here. While you were away that Christmas time, why, I was as +lonesome as--oh, you don't know anything about it. I just +scratched off the days on the calendar every night, one by one, +till you got back. And it just comes to this, I want you with me +all the time. I want you should have a home that's my home, too. +I want to take care of you, and have you all for myself, you +understand. What do you say?" + +Hilma, standing up before him, retied a knot in her handkerchief +bundle with elaborate precaution, blinking at it through her +tears. + +"What do you say, Miss Hilma?" Annixter repeated. "How about +that? What do you say?" + +Just above a whisper, Hilma murmured: + +"I--I don't know." + +"Don't know what? Don't you think we could hit it off together?" + +"I don't know." + +"I know we could, Hilma. I don't mean to scare you. What are +you crying for?" +"I don't know." + +Annixter got up, cast away his cigar, and dropping the buckskin's +bridle, came and stood beside her, putting a hand on her +shoulder. Hilma did not move, and he felt her trembling. She +still plucked at the knot of the handkerchief. "I can't do +without you, little girl," Annixter continued, "and I want you. +I want you bad. I don't get much fun out of life ever. It, +sure, isn't my nature, I guess. I'm a hard man. Everybody is +trying to down me, and now I'm up against the Railroad. I'm +fighting 'em all, Hilma, night and day, lock, stock, and barrel, +and I'm fighting now for my home, my land, everything I have in +the world. If I win out, I want somebody to be glad with me. If +I don't--I want somebody to be sorry for me, sorry with me,--and +that somebody is you. I am dog-tired of going it alone. I want +some one to back me up. I want to feel you alongside of me, to +give me a touch of the shoulder now and then. I'm tired of +fighting for THINGS--land, property, money. I want to fight for +some PERSON--somebody beside myself. Understand? want to feel +that it isn't all selfishness--that there are other interests +than mine in the game--that there's some one dependent on me, and +that's thinking of me as I'm thinking of them--some one I can +come home to at night and put my arm around--like this, and have +her put her two arms around me--like--" He paused a second, and +once again, as it had been in that moment of imminent peril, when +he stood with his arm around her, their eyes met,--"put her two +arms around me," prompted Annixter, half smiling, "like--like +what, Hilma?" + +"I don't know." + +"Like what, Hilma?" he insisted. + +"Like--like this?" she questioned. With a movement of infinite +tenderness and affection she slid her arms around his neck, still +crying a little. + +The sensation of her warm body in his embrace, the feeling of her +smooth, round arm, through the thinness of her sleeve, pressing +against his cheek, thrilled Annixter with a delight such as he +had never known. He bent his head and kissed her upon the nape +of her neck, where the delicate amber tint melted into the thick, +sweet smelling mass of her dark brown hair. She shivered a +little, holding him closer, ashamed as yet to look up. Without +speech, they stood there for a long minute, holding each other +close. Then Hilma pulled away from him, mopping her tear-stained +cheeks with the little moist ball of her handkerchief. + +"What do you say? Is it a go?" demanded Annixter jovially. + +"I thought I hated you all the time," she said, and the velvety +huskiness of her voice never sounded so sweet to him. + +"And I thought it was that crockery smashing goat of a lout of a +cow-puncher." + +"Delaney? The idea! Oh, dear! I think it must always have been +you." + +"Since when, Hilma?" he asked, putting his arm around her. "Ah, +but it is good to have you, my girl," he exclaimed, delighted +beyond words that she permitted this freedom. "Since when? Tell +us all about it." + +"Oh, since always. It was ever so long before I came to think of +you--to, well, to think about--I mean to remember--oh, you know +what I mean. But when I did, oh, THEN!" + +"Then what?" + +"I don't know--I haven't thought--that way long enough to know." + +"But you said you thought it must have been me always." + +"I know; but that was different--oh, I'm all mixed up. I'm so +nervous and trembly now. Oh," she cried suddenly, her face +overcast with a look of earnestness and great seriousness, both +her hands catching at his wrist, "Oh, you WILL be good to me, +now, won't you? I'm only a little, little child in so many ways, +and I've given myself to you, all in a minute, and I can't go +back of it now, and it's for always. I don't know how it +happened or why. Sometimes I think I didn't wish it, but now +it's done, and I am glad and happy. But NOW if you weren't good +to me--oh, think of how it would be with me. You are strong, and +big, and rich, and I am only a servant of yours, a little nobody, +but I've given all I had to you--myself--and you must be so good +to me now. Always remember that. Be good to me and be gentle +and kind to me in LITTLE things,--in everything, or you will +break my heart." + +Annixter took her in his arms. He was speechless. No words that +he had at his command seemed adequate. All he could say was: + +"That's all right, little girl. Don't you be frightened. I'll +take care of you. That's all right, that's all right." + +For a long time they sat there under the shade of the great +trestle, their arms about each other, speaking only at intervals. +An hour passed. The buckskin, finding no feed to her taste, took +the trail stablewards, the bridle dragging. Annixter let her go. +Rather than to take his arm from around Hilma's waist he would +have lost his whole stable. At last, however, he bestirred +himself and began to talk. He thought it time to formulate some +plan of action. + +"Well, now, Hilma, what are we going to do?" + +"Do?" she repeated. "Why, must we do anything? Oh, isn't this +enough?" + +"There's better ahead," he went on. "I want to fix you up +somewhere where you can have a bit of a home all to yourself. +Let's see; Bonneville wouldn't do. There's always a lot of yaps +about there that know us, and they would begin to cackle first +off. How about San Francisco. We might go up next week and have +a look around. I would find rooms you could take somewheres, and +we would fix 'em up as lovely as how-do-you-do." + +"Oh, but why go away from Quien Sabe?" she protested. "And, +then, so soon, too. Why must we have a wedding trip, now that you +are so busy? Wouldn't it be better--oh, I tell you, we could go +to Monterey after we were married, for a little week, where +mamma's people live, and then come back here to the ranch house +and settle right down where we are and let me keep house for you. +I wouldn't even want a single servant." + +Annixter heard and his face grew troubled. + +"Hum," he said, "I see." + +He gathered up a handful of pebbles and began snapping them +carefully into the creek. He fell thoughtful. Here was a phase +of the affair he had not planned in the least. He had supposed +all the time that Hilma took his meaning. His old suspicion that +she was trying to get a hold on him stirred again for a moment. +There was no good of such talk as that. Always these feemale +girls seemed crazy to get married, bent on complicating the +situation. + +"Isn't that best?" said Hilma, glancing at him. + +"I don't know," he muttered gloomily. + +"Well, then, let's not. Let's come right back to Quien Sabe +without going to Monterey. Anything that you want I want." + +"I hadn't thought of it in just that way," he observed. + +"In what way, then?" + +"Can't we--can't we wait about this marrying business?" + +"That's just it," she said gayly. "I said it was too soon. +There would be so much to do between whiles. Why not say at the +end of the summer?" + +"Say what?" + +"Our marriage, I mean." + +"Why get married, then? What's the good of all that fuss about +it? I don't go anything upon a minister puddling round in my +affairs. What's the difference, anyhow? We understand each +other. Isn't that enough? Pshaw, Hilma, I'M no marrying man." + +She looked at him a moment, bewildered, then slowly she took his +meaning. She rose to her feet, her eyes wide, her face paling +with terror. He did not look at her, but he could hear the catch +in her throat. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed, with a long, deep breath, and again "Oh!" +the back of her hand against her lips. + +It was a quick gasp of a veritable physical anguish. Her eyes +brimmed over. Annixter rose, looking at her. + +"Well?" he said, awkwardly, "Well?" + +Hilma leaped back from him with an instinctive recoil of her +whole being, throwing out her hands in a gesture of defence, +fearing she knew not what. There was as yet no sense of insult +in her mind, no outraged modesty. She was only terrified. It +was as though searching for wild flowers she had come suddenly +upon a snake. + +She stood for an instant, spellbound, her eyes wide, her bosom +swelling; then, all at once, turned and fled, darting across the +plank that served for a foot bridge over the creek, gaining the +opposite bank and disappearing with a brisk rustle of underbrush, +such as might have been made by the flight of a frightened fawn. + +Abruptly Annixter found himself alone. For a moment he did not +move, then he picked up his campaign hat, carefully creased its +limp crown and put it on his head and stood for a moment, looking +vaguely at the ground on both sides of him. He went away without +uttering a word, without change of countenance, his hands in his +pockets, his feet taking great strides along the trail in the +direction of the ranch house. + +He had no sight of Hilma again that evening, and the next morning +he was up early and did not breakfast at the ranch house. +Business of the League called him to Bonneville to confer with +Magnus and the firm of lawyers retained by the League to fight +the land-grabbing cases. An appeal was to be taken to the +Supreme Court at Washington, and it was to be settled that day +which of the cases involved should be considered as test cases. + +Instead of driving or riding into Bonneville, as he usually did, +Annixter took an early morning train, the Bakersfield-Fresno +local at Guadalajara, and went to Bonneville by rail, arriving +there at twenty minutes after seven and breakfasting by +appointment with Magnus Derrick and Osterman at the Yosemite +House, on Main Street . + +The conference of the committee with the lawyers took place in a +front room of the Yosemite, one of the latter bringing with him +his clerk, who made a stenographic report of the proceedings and +took carbon copies of all letters written. The conference was +long and complicated, the business transacted of the utmost +moment, and it was not until two o'clock that Annixter found +himself at liberty. + +However, as he and Magnus descended into the lobby of the hotel, +they were aware of an excited and interested group collected +about the swing doors that opened from the lobby of the Yosemite +into the bar of the same name. Dyke was there--even at a +distance they could hear the reverberation of his deep-toned +voice, uplifted in wrath and furious expostulation. Magnus and +Annixter joined the group wondering, and all at once fell full +upon the first scene of a drama. + +That same morning Dyke's mother had awakened him according to his +instructions at daybreak. A consignment of his hop poles from +the north had arrived at the freight office of the P. and S. W. +in Bonneville, and he was to drive in on his farm wagon and bring +them out. He would have a busy day. + +"Hello, hello," he said, as his mother pulled his ear to arouse +him; "morning, mamma." + +"It's time," she said, "after five already. Your breakfast is on +the stove." + +He took her hand and kissed it with great affection. He loved +his mother devotedly, quite as much as he did the little tad. In +their little cottage, in the forest of green hops that surrounded +them on every hand, the three led a joyous and secluded life, +contented, industrious, happy, asking nothing better. Dyke, +himself, was a big-hearted, jovial man who spread an atmosphere +of good-humour wherever he went. In the evenings he played with +Sidney like a big boy, an older brother, lying on the bed, or the +sofa, taking her in his arms. Between them they had invented a +great game. The ex-engineer, his boots removed, his huge legs in +the air, hoisted the little tad on the soles of his stockinged +feet like a circus acrobat, dandling her there, pretending he was +about to let her fall. Sidney, choking with delight, held on +nervously, with little screams and chirps of excitement, while he +shifted her gingerly from one foot to another, and thence, the +final act, the great gallery play, to the palm of one great hand. +At this point Mrs. Dyke was called in, both father and daughter, +children both, crying out that she was to come in and look, look. +She arrived out of breath from the kitchen, the potato masher in +her hand. +"Such children," she murmured, shaking her head at them, amused +for all that, tucking the potato masher under her arm and +clapping her hands. +In the end, it was part of the game that Sidney should tumble +down upon Dyke, whereat he invariably vented a great bellow as if +in pain, declaring that his ribs were broken. Gasping, his eyes +shut, he pretended to be in the extreme of dissolution--perhaps +he was dying. Sidney, always a little uncertain, amused but +distressed, shook him nervously, tugging at his beard, pushing +open his eyelid with one finger, imploring him not to frighten +her, to wake up and be good. + +On this occasion, while yet he was half-dressed, Dyke tiptoed +into his mother's room to look at Sidney fast asleep in her +little iron cot, her arm under her head, her lips parted. With +infinite precaution he kissed her twice, and then finding one +little stocking, hung with its mate very neatly over the back of +a chair, dropped into it a dime, rolled up in a wad of paper. He +winked all to himself and went out again, closing the door with +exaggerated carefulness. + +He breakfasted alone, Mrs. Dyke pouring his coffee and handing +him his plate of ham and eggs, and half an hour later took +himself off in his springless, skeleton wagon, humming a tune +behind his beard and cracking the whip over the backs of his +staid and solid farm horses. + +The morning was fine, the sun just coming up. He left +Guadalajara, sleeping and lifeless, on his left, and going across +lots, over an angle of Quien Sabe, came out upon the Upper Road, +a mile below the Long Trestle. He was in great spirits, looking +about him over the brown fields, ruddy with the dawn. Almost +directly in front of him, but far off, the gilded dome of the +court-house at Bonneville was glinting radiant in the first rays +of the sun, while a few miles distant, toward the north, the +venerable campanile of the Mission San Juan stood silhouetted in +purplish black against the flaming east. As he proceeded, the +great farm horses jogging forward, placid, deliberate, the +country side waked to another day. Crossing the irrigating ditch +further on, he met a gang of Portuguese, with picks and shovels +over their shoulders, just going to work. Hooven, already +abroad, shouted him a "Goot mornun" from behind the fence of Los +Muertos. Far off, toward the southwest, in the bare expanse of +the open fields, where a clump of eucalyptus and cypress trees +set a dark green note, a thin stream of smoke rose straight into +the air from the kitchen of Derrick's ranch houses. + +But a mile or so beyond the Long Trestle he was surprised to see +Magnus Derrick's protege, the one-time shepherd, Vanamee, coming +across Quien Sabe, by a trail from one of Annixter's division +houses. Without knowing exactly why, Dyke received the +impression that the young man had not been in bed all of that +night. + +As the two approached each other, Dyke eyed the young fellow. He +was distrustful of Vanamee, having the country-bred suspicion of +any person he could not understand. Vanamee was, beyond doubt, +no part of the life of ranch and country town. He was an alien, +a vagabond, a strange fellow who came and went in mysterious +fashion, making no friends, keeping to himself. Why did he never +wear a hat, why indulge in a fine, black, pointed beard, when +either a round beard or a mustache was the invariable custom? +Why did he not cut his hair? Above all, why did he prowl about +so much at night? As the two passed each other, Dyke, for all +his good-nature, was a little blunt in his greeting and looked +back at the ex-shepherd over his shoulder. + +Dyke was right in his suspicion. Vanamee's bed had not been +disturbed for three nights. On the Monday of that week he had +passed the entire night in the garden of the Mission, overlooking +the Seed ranch, in the little valley. Tuesday evening had found +him miles away from that spot, in a deep arroyo in the Sierra +foothills to the eastward, while Wednesday he had slept in an +abandoned 'dobe on Osterman's stock range, twenty miles from his +resting place of the night before. + +The fact of the matter was that the old restlessness had once +more seized upon Vanamee. Something began tugging at him; the +spur of some unseen rider touched his flank. The instinct of the +wanderer woke and moved. For some time now he had been a part of +the Los Muertos staff. On Quien Sabe, as on the other ranches, +the slack season was at hand. While waiting for the wheat to +come up no one was doing much of anything. Vanamee had come over +to Los Muertos and spent most of his days on horseback, riding +the range, rounding up and watching the cattle in the fourth +division of the ranch. But if the vagabond instinct now roused +itself in the strange fellow's nature, a counter influence had +also set in. More and more Vanamee frequented the Mission garden +after nightfall, sometimes remaining there till the dawn began to +whiten, lying prone on the ground, his chin on his folded arms, +his eyes searching the darkness over the little valley of the +Seed ranch, watching, watching. As the days went by, he became +more reticent than ever. Presley often came to find him on the +stock range, a lonely figure in the great wilderness of bare, +green hillsides, but Vanamee no longer took him into his +confidence. Father Sarria alone heard his strange stories. + +Dyke drove on toward Bonneville, thinking over the whole matter. +He knew, as every one did in that part of the country, the legend +of Vanamee and Angele, the romance of the Mission garden, the +mystery of the Other, Vanamee's flight to the deserts of the +southwest, his periodic returns, his strange, reticent, solitary +character, but, like many another of the country people, he +accounted for Vanamee by a short and easy method. No doubt, the +fellow's wits were turned. That was the long and short of it. + +The ex-engineer reached the Post Office in Bonneville towards +eleven o'clock, but he did not at once present his notice of the +arrival of his consignment at Ruggles's office. It entertained +him to indulge in an hour's lounging about the streets. It was +seldom he got into town, and when he did he permitted himself the +luxury of enjoying his evident popularity. He met friends +everywhere, in the Post Office, in the drug store, in the barber +shop and around the court-house. With each one he held a +moment's conversation; almost invariably this ended in the same +way: + +"Come on 'n have a drink." + +"Well, I don't care if I do." + +And the friends proceeded to the Yosemite bar, pledging each +other with punctilious ceremony. Dyke, however, was a strictly +temperate man. His life on the engine had trained him well. +Alcohol he never touched, drinking instead ginger ale, +sarsaparilla-and-iron--soft drinks. + +At the drug store, which also kept a stock of miscellaneous +stationery, his eye was caught by a "transparent slate," a +child's toy, where upon a little pane of frosted glass one could +trace with considerable elaboration outline figures of cows, +ploughs, bunches of fruit and even rural water mills that were +printed on slips of paper underneath. + +"Now, there's an idea, Jim," he observed to the boy behind the +soda-water fountain; "I know a little tad that would just about +jump out of her skin for that. Think I'll have to take it with +me." + +"How's Sidney getting along?" the other asked, while wrapping up +the package. + +Dyke's enthusiasm had made of his little girl a celebrity +throughout Bonneville. + +The ex-engineer promptly became voluble, assertive, doggedly +emphatic. + +"Smartest little tad in all Tulare County, and more fun! A +regular whole show in herself." + +"And the hops?" inquired the other. + +"Bully," declared Dyke, with the good-natured man's readiness to +talk of his private affairs to any one who would listen. "Bully. +I'm dead sure of a bonanza crop by now. The rain came JUST +right. I actually don't know as I can store the crop in those +barns I built, it's going to be so big. That foreman of mine was +a daisy. Jim, I'm going to make money in that deal. After I've +paid off the mortgage--you know I had to mortgage, yes, crop and +homestead both, but I can pay it off and all the interest to +boot, lovely,--well, and as I was saying, after all expenses are +paid off I'll clear big money, m' son. Yes, sir. I KNEW there +was boodle in hops. You know the crop is contracted for already. +Sure, the foreman managed that. He's a daisy. Chap in San +Francisco will take it all and at the advanced price. I wanted +to hang on, to see if it wouldn't go to six cents, but the +foreman said, 'No, that's good enough.' So I signed. Ain't it +bully, hey?" + +"Then what'll you do?" + +"Well, I don't know. I'll have a lay-off for a month or so and +take the little tad and mother up and show 'em the city--'Frisco-- +until it's time for the schools to open, and then we'll put Sid +in the seminary at Marysville. Catch on?" + +"I suppose you'll stay right by hops now?" + +"Right you are, m'son. I know a good thing when I see it. +There's plenty others going into hops next season. I set 'em the +example. Wouldn't be surprised if it came to be a regular +industry hereabouts. I'm planning ahead for next year already. +I can let the foreman go, now that I've learned the game myself, +and I think I'll buy a piece of land off Quien Sabe and get a +bigger crop, and build a couple more barns, and, by George, in +about five years time I'll have things humming. I'm going to +make MONEY, Jim." + +He emerged once more into the street and went up the block +leisurely, planting his feet squarely. He fancied that he could +feel he was considered of more importance nowadays. He was no +longer a subordinate, an employee. He was his own man, a +proprietor, an owner of land, furthering a successful enterprise. +No one had helped him; he had followed no one's lead. He had +struck out unaided for himself, and his success was due solely to +his own intelligence, industry, and foresight. He squared his +great shoulders till the blue gingham of his jumper all but +cracked. Of late, his great blond beard had grown and the work +in the sun had made his face very red. Under the visor of his +cap--relic of his engineering days--his blue eyes twinkled with +vast good-nature. He felt that he made a fine figure as he went +by a group of young girls in lawns and muslins and garden hats on +their way to the Post Office. He wondered if they looked after +him, wondered if they had heard that he was in a fair way to +become a rich man. + +But the chronometer in the window of the jewelry store warned him +that time was passing. He turned about, and, crossing the +street, took his way to Ruggles's office, which was the freight +as well as the land office of the P. and S. W. Railroad. + +As he stood for a moment at the counter in front of the wire +partition, waiting for the clerk to make out the order for the +freight agent at the depot, Dyke was surprised to see a familiar +figure in conference with Ruggles himself, by a desk inside the +railing. + +The figure was that of a middle-aged man, fat, with a great +stomach, which he stroked from time to time. As he turned about, +addressing a remark to the clerk, Dyke recognised S. Behrman. +The banker, railroad agent, and political manipulator seemed to +the ex-engineer's eyes to be more gross than ever. His smooth- +shaven jowl stood out big and tremulous on either side of his +face; the roll of fat on the nape of his neck, sprinkled with +sparse, stiff hairs, bulged out with greater prominence. His +great stomach, covered with a light brown linen vest, stamped +with innumerable interlocked horseshoes, protruded far in +advance, enormous, aggressive. He wore his inevitable round- +topped hat of stiff brown straw, varnished so bright that it +reflected the light of the office windows like a helmet, and even +from where he stood Dyke could hear his loud breathing and the +clink of the hollow links of his watch chain upon the vest +buttons of imitation pearl, as his stomach rose and fell. + +Dyke looked at him with attention. There was the enemy, the +representative of the Trust with which Derrick's League was +locking horns. The great struggle had begun to invest the +combatants with interest. Daily, almost hourly, Dyke was in +touch with the ranchers, the wheat-growers. He heard their +denunciations, their growls of exasperation and defiance. Here +was the other side--this placid, fat man, with a stiff straw hat +and linen vest, who never lost his temper, who smiled affably +upon his enemies, giving them good advice, commiserating with +them in one defeat after another, never ruffled, never excited, +sure of his power, conscious that back of him was the Machine, +the colossal force, the inexhaustible coffers of a mighty +organisation, vomiting millions to the League's thousands. + +The League was clamorous, ubiquitous, its objects known to every +urchin on the streets, but the Trust was silent, its ways +inscrutable, the public saw only results. It worked on in the +dark, calm, disciplined, irresistible. Abruptly Dyke received +the impression of the multitudinous ramifications of the +colossus. Under his feet the ground seemed mined; down there +below him in the dark the huge tentacles went silently twisting +and advancing, spreading out in every direction, sapping the +strength of all opposition, quiet, gradual, biding the time to +reach up and out and grip with a sudden unleashing of gigantic +strength. + +"I'll be wanting some cars of you people before the summer is +out," observed Dyke to the clerk as he folded up and put away the +order that the other had handed him. He remembered perfectly +well that he had arranged the matter of transporting his crop +some months before, but his role of proprietor amused him and he +liked to busy himself again and again with the details of his +undertaking. + +"I suppose," he added, "you'll be able to give 'em to me. +There'll be a big wheat crop to move this year and I don't want +to be caught in any car famine." + +"Oh, you'll get your cars," murmured the other. + +"I'll be the means of bringing business your way," Dyke went on; +"I've done so well with my hops that there are a lot of others +going into the business next season. Suppose," he continued, +struck with an idea, "suppose we went into some sort of pool, a +sort of shippers' organisation, could you give us special rates, +cheaper rates--say a cent and a half?" + +The other looked up. + +"A cent and a half! Say FOUR cents and a half and maybe I'll +talk business with you." + +"Four cents and a half," returned Dyke, "I don't see it. Why, +the regular rate is only two cents." + +"No, it isn't," answered the clerk, looking him gravely in the +eye, "it's five cents." + +"Well, there's where you are wrong, m'son," Dyke retorted, +genially. "You look it up. You'll find the freight on hops from +Bonneville to 'Frisco is two cents a pound for car load lots. +You told me that yourself last fall." + +"That was last fall," observed the clerk. There was a silence. +Dyke shot a glance of suspicion at the other. Then, reassured, +he remarked: + +"You look it up. You'll see I'm right." + +S. Behrman came forward and shook hands politely with the ex- +engineer. + +"Anything I can do for you, Mr. Dyke?" + +Dyke explained. When he had done speaking, the clerk turned to +S. Behrman and observed, respectfully: + +"Our regular rate on hops is five cents." + +"Yes," answered S. Behrman, pausing to reflect; "yes, Mr. Dyke, +that's right--five cents." + +The clerk brought forward a folder of yellow paper and handed it +to Dyke. It was inscribed at the top "Tariff Schedule No. 8," +and underneath these words, in brackets, was a smaller +inscription, "SUPERSEDES NO. 7 OF AUG. 1" + +"See for yourself," said S. Behrman. He indicated an item under +the head of "Miscellany." + +"The following rates for carriage of hops in car load lots," read +Dyke, "take effect June 1, and will remain in force until +superseded by a later tariff. Those quoted beyond Stockton are +subject to changes in traffic arrangements with carriers by water +from that point." + +In the list that was printed below, Dyke saw that the rate for +hops between Bonneville or Guadalajara and San Francisco was five +cents. + +For a moment Dyke was confused. Then swiftly the matter became +clear in his mind. The Railroad had raised the freight on hops +from two cents to five. + +All his calculations as to a profit on his little investment he +had based on a freight rate of two cents a pound. He was under +contract to deliver his crop. He could not draw back. The new +rate ate up every cent of his gains. He stood there ruined. + +"Why, what do you mean?" he burst out. "You promised me a rate +of two cents and I went ahead with my business with that +understanding. What do you mean?" + +S. Behrman and the clerk watched him from the other side of the +counter. + +"The rate is five cents," declared the clerk doggedly. + +"Well, that ruins me," shouted Dyke. "Do you understand? I +won't make fifty cents. MAKE! Why, I will OWE,--I'll be--be-- +That ruins me, do you understand?" + +The other, raised a shoulder. + +"We don't force you to ship. You can do as you like. The rate +is five cents." + +"Well--but--damn you, I'm under contract to deliver. What am I +going to do? Why, you told me--you promised me a two-cent rate." + +"I don't remember it," said the clerk. "I don't know anything +about that. But I know this; I know that hops have gone up. I +know the German crop was a failure and that the crop in New York +wasn't worth the hauling. Hops have gone up to nearly a dollar. +You don't suppose we don't know that, do you, Mr. Dyke?" + +"What's the price of hops got to do with you?" + +"It's got THIS to do with us," returned the other with a sudden +aggressiveness, "that the freight rate has gone up to meet the +price. We're not doing business for our health. My orders are +to raise your rate to five cents, and I think you are getting off +easy." + +Dyke stared in blank astonishment. For the moment, the audacity +of the affair was what most appealed to him. He forgot its +personal application. + +"Good Lord," he murmured, "good Lord! What will you people do +next? Look here. What's your basis of applying freight rates, +anyhow?" he suddenly vociferated with furious sarcasm. "What's +your rule? What are you guided by?" + +But at the words, S. Behrman, who had kept silent during the heat +of the discussion, leaned abruptly forward. For the only time in +his knowledge, Dyke saw his face inflamed with anger and with the +enmity and contempt of all this farming element with whom he was +contending. + +"Yes, what's your rule? What's your basis?" demanded Dyke, +turning swiftly to him. + +S. Behrman emphasised each word of his reply with a tap of one +forefinger on the counter before him: + +"All--the--traffic--will--bear." + +The ex-engineer stepped back a pace, his fingers on the ledge of +the counter, to steady himself. He felt himself grow pale, his +heart became a mere leaden weight in his chest, inert, refusing +to beat. + +In a second the whole affair, in all its bearings, went speeding +before the eye of his imagination like the rapid unrolling of a +panorama. Every cent of his earnings was sunk in this hop +business of his. More than that, he had borrowed money to carry +it on, certain of success--borrowed of S. Behrman, offering his +crop and his little home as security. Once he failed to meet his +obligations, S. Behrman would foreclose. Not only would the +Railroad devour every morsel of his profits, but also it would +take from him his home; at a blow he would be left penniless and +without a home. What would then become of his mother--and what +would become of the little tad? She, whom he had been planning +to educate like a veritable lady. For all that year he had +talked of his ambition for his little daughter to every one he +met. All Bonneville knew of it. What a mark for gibes he had +made of himself. The workingman turned farmer! What a target +for jeers--he who had fancied he could elude the Railroad! He +remembered he had once said the great Trust had overlooked his +little enterprise, disdaining to plunder such small fry. He +should have known better than that. How had he ever imagined the +Road would permit him to make any money? + +Anger was not in him yet; no rousing of the blind, white-hot +wrath that leaps to the attack with prehensile fingers, moved +him. The blow merely crushed, staggered, confused. + +He stepped aside to give place to a coatless man in a pink shirt, +who entered, carrying in his hands an automatic door-closing +apparatus. + +"Where does this go?" inquired the man. + +Dyke sat down for a moment on a seat that had been removed from a +worn-out railway car to do duty in Ruggles's office. On the back +of a yellow envelope he made some vague figures with a stump of +blue pencil, multiplying, subtracting, perplexing himself with +many errors. + +S. Behrman, the clerk, and the man with the door-closing +apparatus involved themselves in a long argument, gazing intently +at the top panel of the door. The man who had come to fix the +apparatus was unwilling to guarantee it, unless a sign was put on +the outside of the door, warning incomers that the door was self- +closing. This sign would cost fifteen cents extra. + +"But you didn't say anything about this when the thing was +ordered," declared S. Behrman. "No, I won't pay it, my friend. +It's an overcharge." + +"You needn't think," observed the clerk, "that just because you +are dealing with the Railroad you are going to work us." + +Genslinger came in, accompanied by Delaney. S. Behrman and the +clerk, abruptly dismissing the man with the door-closing machine, +put themselves behind the counter and engaged in conversation +with these two. Genslinger introduced Delaney. The buster had a +string of horses he was shipping southward. No doubt he had come +to make arrangements with the Railroad in the matter of stock +cars. The conference of the four men was amicable in the +extreme. + +Dyke, studying the figures on the back of the envelope, came +forward again. Absorbed only in his own distress, he ignored the +editor and the cow-puncher. + +"Say," he hazarded, "how about this? I make out---- + +"We've told you what our rates are, Mr. Dyke," exclaimed the +clerk angrily. "That's all the arrangement we will make. Take +it or leave it." He turned again to Genslinger, giving the ex- +engineer his back. + +Dyke moved away and stood for a moment in the centre of the room, +staring at the figures on the envelope. + +"I don't see," he muttered, "just what I'm going to do. No, I +don't see what I'm going to do at all." + +Ruggles came in, bringing with him two other men in whom Dyke +recognised dummy buyers of the Los Muertos and Osterman ranchos. +They brushed by him, jostling his elbow, and as he went out of +the door he heard them exchange jovial greetings with Delaney, +Genslinger, and S. Behrman. + +Dyke went down the stairs to the street and proceeded onward +aimlessly in the direction of the Yosemite House, fingering the +yellow envelope and looking vacantly at the sidewalk. + +There was a stoop to his massive shoulders. His great arms +dangled loosely at his sides, the palms of his hands open. + +As he went along, a certain feeling of shame touched him. Surely +his predicament must be apparent to every passer-by. No doubt, +every one recognised the unsuccessful man in the very way he +slouched along. The young girls in lawns, muslins, and garden +hats, returning from the Post Office, their hands full of +letters, must surely see in him the type of the failure, the +bankrupt. + +Then brusquely his tardy rage flamed up. By God, NO, it was not +his fault; he had made no mistake. His energy, industry, and +foresight had been sound. He had been merely the object of a +colossal trick, a sordid injustice, a victim of the insatiate +greed of the monster, caught and choked by one of those millions +of tentacles suddenly reaching up from below, from out the dark +beneath his feet, coiling around his throat, throttling him, +strangling him, sucking his blood. For a moment he thought of +the courts, but instantly laughed at the idea. What court was +immune from the power of the monster? Ah, the rage of +helplessness, the fury of impotence! No help, no hope,--ruined +in a brief instant--he a veritable giant, built of great sinews, +powerful, in the full tide of his manhood, having all his health, +all his wits. How could he now face his home? How could he tell +his mother of this catastrophe? And Sidney--the little tad; how +could he explain to her this wretchedness--how soften her +disappointment? How keep the tears from out her eyes--how keep +alive her confidence in him--her faith in his resources? + +Bitter, fierce, ominous, his wrath loomed up in his heart. His +fists gripped tight together, his teeth clenched. Oh, for a +moment to have his hand upon the throat of S. Behrman, wringing +the breath from him, wrenching out the red life of him--staining +the street with the blood sucked from the veins of the People! + +To the first friend that he met, Dyke told the tale of the +tragedy, and to the next, and to the next. The affair went from +mouth to mouth, spreading with electrical swiftness, overpassing +and running ahead of Dyke himself, so that by the time he reached +the lobby of the Yosemite House, he found his story awaiting him. +A group formed about him. In his immediate vicinity business for +the instant was suspended. The group swelled. One after another +of his friends added themselves to it. Magnus Derrick joined it, +and Annixter. Again and again, Dyke recounted the matter, +beginning with the time when he was discharged from the same +corporation's service for refusing to accept an unfair wage. His +voice quivered with exasperation; his heavy frame shook with +rage; his eyes were injected, bloodshot; his face flamed +vermilion, while his deep bass rumbled throughout the running +comments of his auditors like the thunderous reverberation of +diapason. + +From all points of view, the story was discussed by those who +listened to him, now in the heat of excitement, now calmly, +judicially. One verdict, however, prevailed. It was voiced by +Annixter: "You're stuck. You can roar till you're black in the +face, but you can't buck against the Railroad. There's nothing +to be done." +"You can shoot the ruffian, you can shoot S. Behrman," clamoured +one of the group. "Yes, sir; by the Lord, you can shoot him." + +"Poor fool," commented Annixter, turning away. + +Nothing to be done. No, there was nothing to be done--not one +thing. Dyke, at last alone and driving his team out of the town, +turned the business confusedly over in his mind from end to end. +Advice, suggestion, even offers of financial aid had been +showered upon him from all directions. Friends were not wanting +who heatedly presented to his consideration all manner of +ingenious plans, wonderful devices. They were worthless. The +tentacle held fast. He was stuck. + +By degrees, as his wagon carried him farther out into the +country, and open empty fields, his anger lapsed, and the +numbness of bewilderment returned. He could not look one hour +ahead into the future; could formulate no plans even for the next +day. He did not know what to do. He was stuck. + +With the limpness and inertia of a sack of sand, the reins +slipping loosely in his dangling fingers, his eyes fixed, staring +between the horses' heads, he allowed himself to be carried +aimlessly along. He resigned himself. What did he care? What +was the use of going on? He was stuck. + +The team he was driving had once belonged to the Los Muertos +stables and unguided as the horses were, they took the county +road towards Derrick's ranch house. Dyke, all abroad, was +unaware of the fact till, drawn by the smell of water, the horses +halted by the trough in front of Caraher's saloon. + +The ex-engineer dismounted, looking about him, realising where he +was. So much the worse; it did not matter. Now that he had come +so far it was as short to go home by this route as to return on +his tracks. Slowly he unchecked the horses and stood at their +heads, watching them drink. + +"I don't see," he muttered, "just what I am going to do." + +Caraher appeared at the door of his place, his red face, red +beard, and flaming cravat standing sharply out from the shadow of +the doorway. He called a welcome to Dyke. + +"Hello, Captain." + +Dyke looked up, nodding his head listlessly. + +"Hello, Caraher," he answered. + +"Well," continued the saloonkeeper, coming forward a step, +"what's the news in town?" + +Dyke told him. Caraher's red face suddenly took on a darker +colour. The red glint in his eyes shot from under his eyebrows. +Furious, he vented a rolling explosion of oaths. + +"And now it's your turn," he vociferated. "They ain't after only +the big wheat-growers, the rich men. By God, they'll even pick +the poor man's pocket. Oh, they'll get their bellies full some +day. It can't last forever. They'll wake up the wrong kind of +man some morning, the man that's got guts in him, that will hit +back when he's kicked and that will talk to 'em with a torch in +one hand and a stick of dynamite in the other." He raised his +clenched fists in the air. "So help me, God," he cried, "when I +think it all over I go crazy, I see red. Oh, if the people only +knew their strength. Oh, if I could wake 'em up. There's not +only Shelgrim, but there's others. All the magnates, all the +butchers, all the blood-suckers, by the thousands. Their day +will come, by God, it will." + +By now, the ex-engineer and the bar-keeper had retired to the +saloon back of the grocery to talk over the details of this new +outrage. Dyke, still a little dazed, sat down by one of the +tables, preoccupied, saying but little, and Caraher as a matter +of course set the whiskey bottle at his elbow. + +It happened that at this same moment, Presley, returning to Los +Muertos from Bonneville, his pockets full of mail, stopped in at +the grocery to buy some black lead for his bicycle. In the +saloon, on the other side of the narrow partition, he overheard +the conversation between Dyke and Caraher. The door was open. +He caught every word distinctly. + +"Tell us all about it, Dyke," urged Caraher. + +For the fiftieth time Dyke told the story. Already it had +crystallised into a certain form. He used the same phrases with +each repetition, the same sentences, the same words. In his mind +it became set. Thus he would tell it to any one who would listen +from now on, week after week, year after year, all the rest of +his life--"And I based my calculations on a two-cent rate. So +soon as they saw I was to make money they doubled the tariff--all +the traffic would bear--and I mortgaged to S. Behrman--ruined me +with a turn of the hand--stuck, cinched, and not one thing to be +done." + +As he talked, he drank glass after glass of whiskey, and the +honest rage, the open, above-board fury of his mind coagulated, +thickened, and sunk to a dull, evil hatred, a wicked, oblique +malevolence. Caraher, sure now of winning a disciple, +replenished his glass. + +"Do you blame us now," he cried, "us others, the Reds? Ah, yes, +it's all very well for your middle class to preach moderation. I +could do it, too. You could do it, too, if your belly was fed, +if your property was safe, if your wife had not been murdered if +your children were not starving. Easy enough then to preach law- +abiding methods, legal redress, and all such rot. But how about +US?" he vociferated. "Ah, yes, I'm a loud-mouthed rum-seller, +ain't I? I'm a wild-eyed striker, ain't I? I'm a blood-thirsty +anarchist, ain't I? Wait till you've seen your wife brought home +to you with the face you used to kiss smashed in by a horse's +hoof--killed by the Trust, as it happened to me. Then talk about +moderation! And you, Dyke, black-listed engineer, discharged +employee, ruined agriculturist, wait till you see your little tad +and your mother turned out of doors when S. Behrman forecloses. +Wait till you see 'em getting thin and white, and till you hear +your little girl ask you why you all don't eat a little more and +that she wants her dinner and you can't give it to her. Wait +till you see--at the same time that your family is dying for lack +of bread--a hundred thousand acres of wheat--millions of bushels +of food--grabbed and gobbled by the Railroad Trust, and then talk +of moderation. That talk is just what the Trust wants to hear. +It ain't frightened of that. There's one thing only it does +listen to, one thing it is frightened of--the people with +dynamite in their hands,--six inches of plugged gaspipe. THAT +talks." + +Dyke did not reply. He filled another pony of whiskey and drank +it in two gulps. His frown had lowered to a scowl, his face was +a dark red, his head had sunk, bull-like, between his massive +shoulders; without winking he gazed long and with troubled eyes +at his knotted, muscular hands, lying open on the table before +him, idle, their occupation gone. + +Presley forgot his black lead. He listened to Caraher. Through +the open door he caught a glimpse of Dyke's back, broad, muscled, +bowed down, the great shoulders stooping. + +The whole drama of the doubled freight rate leaped salient and +distinct in the eye of his mind. And this was but one instance, +an isolated case. Because he was near at hand he happened to see +it. How many others were there, the length and breadth of the +State? Constantly this sort of thing must occur--little +industries choked out in their very beginnings, the air full of +the death rattles of little enterprises, expiring unobserved in +far-off counties, up in canyons and arroyos of the foothills, +forgotten by every one but the monster who was daunted by the +magnitude of no business, however great, who overlooked no +opportunity of plunder, however petty, who with one tentacle +grabbed a hundred thousand acres of wheat, and with another +pilfered a pocketful of growing hops. + +He went away without a word, his head bent, his hands clutched +tightly on the cork grips of the handle bars of his bicycle. His +lips were white. In his heart a blind demon of revolt raged +tumultuous, shrieking blasphemies. + +At Los Muertos, Presley overtook Annixter. As he guided his +wheel up the driveway to Derrick's ranch house, he saw the master +of Quien Sabe and Harran in conversation on the steps of the +porch. Magnus stood in the doorway, talking to his wife. + +Occupied with the press of business and involved in the final +conference with the League's lawyers on the eve of the latter's +departure for Washington, Annixter had missed the train that was +to take him back to Guadalajara and Quien Sabe. Accordingly, he +had accepted the Governor's invitation to return with him on his +buck-board to Los Muertos, and before leaving Bonneville had +telephoned to his ranch to have young Vacca bring the buckskin, +by way of the Lower Road, to meet him at Los Muertos. He found +her waiting there for him, but before going on, delayed a few +moments to tell Harran of Dyke's affair. + +"I wonder what he will do now?" observed Harran when his first +outburst of indignation had subsided. + +"Nothing," declared Annixter. "He's stuck." + +"That eats up every cent of Dyke's earnings," Harran went on. +"He has been ten years saving them. Oh, I told him to make sure +of the Railroad when he first spoke to me about growing hops." + +"I've just seen him," said Presley, as he joined the others. "He +was at Caraher's. I only saw his back. He was drinking at a +table and his back was towards me. But the man looked broken-- +absolutely crushed. It is terrible, terrible." + +"He was at Caraher's, was he?" demanded Annixter. + +"Yes." + +"Drinking, hey?" + +"I think so. Yes, I saw a bottle." + +"Drinking at Caraher's," exclaimed Annixter, rancorously; "I can +see HIS finish." + +There was a silence. It seemed as if nothing more was to be +said. They paused, looking thoughtfully on the ground. + +In silence, grim, bitter, infinitely sad, the three men as if at +that moment actually standing in the bar-room of Caraher's +roadside saloon, contemplated the slow sinking, the inevitable +collapse and submerging of one of their companions, the wreck of +a career, the ruin of an individual; an honest man, strong, +fearless, upright, struck down by a colossal power, perverted by +an evil influence, go reeling to his ruin. + +"I see his finish," repeated Annixter. "Exit Dyke, and score +another tally for S. Behrman, Shelgrim and Co." + +He moved away impatiently, loosening the tie-rope with which the +buckskin was fastened. He swung himself up. + +"God for us all," he declared as he rode away, "and the devil +take the hindmost. Good-bye, I'm going home. I still have one a +little longer." + +He galloped away along the Lower Road, in the direction of Quien +Sabe, emerging from the grove of cypress and eucalyptus about the +ranch house, and coming out upon the bare brown plain of the +wheat land, stretching away from him in apparent barrenness on +either hand. + +It was late in the day, already his shadow was long upon the +padded dust of the road in front of him. On ahead, a long ways +off, and a little to the north, the venerable campanile of the +Mission San Juan was glinting radiant in the last rays of the +sun, while behind him, towards the north and west, the gilded +dome of the courthouse at Bonneville stood silhouetted in +purplish black against the flaming west. Annixter spurred the +buck-skin forward. He feared he might be late to his supper. He +wondered if it would be brought to him by Hilma. + +Hilma! The name struck across in his brain with a pleasant, +glowing tremour. All through that day of activity, of strenuous +business, the minute and cautious planning of the final campaign +in the great war of the League and the Trust, the idea of her and +the recollection of her had been the undercurrent of his +thoughts. At last he was alone. He could put all other things +behind him and occupy himself solely with her. + +In that glory of the day's end, in that chaos of sunshine, he saw +her again. Unimaginative, crude, direct, his fancy, +nevertheless, placed her before him, steeped in sunshine, +saturated with glorious light, brilliant, radiant, alluring. He +saw the sweet simplicity of her carriage, the statuesque evenness +of the contours of her figure, the single, deep swell of her +bosom, the solid masses of her hair. He remembered the small +contradictory suggestions of feminine daintiness he had so often +remarked about her, her slim, narrow feet, the little steel +buckles of her low shoes, the knot of black ribbon she had begun +to wear of late on the back of her head, and he heard her voice, +low-pitched, velvety, a sweet, murmuring huskiness that seemed to +come more from her chest than from her throat. + +The buckskin's hoofs clattered upon the gravelly flats of +Broderson's Creek underneath the Long Trestle. Annixter's mind +went back to the scene of the previous evening, when he had come +upon her at this place. He set his teeth with anger and +disappointment. Why had she not been able to understand? What +was the matter with these women, always set upon this marrying +notion? Was it not enough that he wanted her more than any other +girl he knew and that she wanted him? She had said as much. Did +she think she was going to be mistress of Quien Sabe? Ah, that +was it. She was after his property, was for marrying him because +of his money. His unconquerable suspicion of the woman, his +innate distrust of the feminine element would not be done away +with. What fathomless duplicity was hers, that she could appear +so innocent. It was almost unbelievable; in fact, was it +believable? + +For the first time doubt assailed him. Suppose Hilma was indeed +all that she appeared to be. Suppose it was not with her a +question of his property, after all; it was a poor time to think +of marrying him for his property when all Quien Sabe hung in the +issue of the next few months. Suppose she had been sincere. But +he caught himself up. Was he to be fooled by a feemale girl at +this late date? He, Buck Annixter, crafty, hard-headed, a man of +affairs? Not much. Whatever transpired he would remain the +master. + +He reached Quien Sabe in this frame of mind. But at this hour, +Annixter, for all his resolutions, could no longer control his +thoughts. As he stripped the saddle from the buckskin and led +her to the watering trough by the stable corral, his heart was +beating thick at the very notion of being near Hilma again. It +was growing dark, but covertly he glanced here and there out of +the corners of his eyes to see if she was anywhere about. +Annixter--how, he could not tell--had become possessed of the +idea that Hilma would not inform her parents of what had passed +between them the previous evening under the Long Trestle. He had +no idea that matters were at an end between himself and the young +woman. He must apologise, he saw that clearly enough, must eat +crow, as he told himself. Well, he would eat crow. He was not +afraid of her any longer, now that she had made her confession to +him. He would see her as soon as possible and get this business +straightened out, and begin again from a new starting point. +What he wanted with Hilma, Annixter did not define clearly in his +mind. At one time he had known perfectly well what he wanted. +Now, the goal of his desires had become vague. He could not say +exactly what it was. He preferred that things should go forward +without much idea of consequences; if consequences came, they +would do so naturally enough, and of themselves; all that he +positively knew was that Hilma occupied his thoughts morning, +noon, and night; that he was happy when he was with her, and +miserable when away from her. + +The Chinese cook served his supper in silence. Annixter ate and +drank and lighted a cigar, and after his meal sat on the porch of +his house, smoking and enjoying the twilight. The evening was +beautiful, warm, the sky one powder of stars. From the direction +of the stables he heard one of the Portuguese hands picking a +guitar. + +But he wanted to see Hilma. The idea of going to bed without at +least a glimpse of her became distasteful to him. Annixter got +up and descending from the porch began to walk aimlessly about +between the ranch buildings, with eye and ear alert. Possibly he +might meet her somewheres. + +The Trees' little house, toward which inevitably Annixter +directed his steps, was dark. Had they all gone to bed so soon? +He made a wide circuit about it, listening, but heard no sound. +The door of the dairy-house stood ajar. He pushed it open, and +stepped into the odorous darkness of its interior. The pans and +deep cans of polished metal glowed faintly from the corners and +from the walls. The smell of new cheese was pungent in his +nostrils. Everything was quiet. There was nobody there. He +went out again, closing the door, and stood for a moment in the +space between the dairy-house and the new barn, uncertain as to +what he should do next. + +As he waited there, his foreman came out of the men's bunk house, +on the other side of the kitchens, and crossed over toward the +barn. "Hello, Billy," muttered Annixter as he passed. + +"Oh, good evening, Mr. Annixter," said the other, pausing in +front of him. "I didn't know you were back. By the way," he +added, speaking as though the matter was already known to +Annixter, "I see old man Tree and his family have left us. Are +they going to be gone long? Have they left for good?" + +"What's that?" Annixter exclaimed. "When did they go? Did all +of them go, all three?" + +"Why, I thought you knew. Sure, they all left on the afternoon +train for San Francisco. Cleared out in a hurry--took all their +trunks. Yes, all three went--the young lady, too. They gave me +notice early this morning. They ain't ought to have done that. +I don't know who I'm to get to run the dairy on such short +notice. Do you know any one, Mr. Annixter?" + +"Well, why in hell did you let them go?" vociferated Annixter. +"Why didn't you keep them here till I got back? Why didn't you +find out if they were going for good? I can't be everywhere. +What do I feed you for if it ain't to look after things I can't +attend to?" + +He turned on his heel and strode away straight before him, not +caring where he was going. He tramped out from the group of +ranch buildings; holding on over the open reach of his ranch, his +teeth set, his heels digging furiously into the ground. The +minutes passed. He walked on swiftly, muttering to himself from +time to time. + +"Gone, by the Lord. Gone, by the Lord. By the Lord Harry, she's +cleared out." + +As yet his head was empty of all thought. He could not steady +his wits to consider this new turn of affairs. He did not even +try. + +"Gone, by the Lord," he exclaimed. "By the Lord, she's cleared +out." + +He found the irrigating ditch, and the beaten path made by the +ditch tenders that bordered it, and followed it some five +minutes; then struck off at right angles over the rugged surface +of the ranch land, to where a great white stone jutted from the +ground. There he sat down, and leaning forward, rested his +elbows on his knees, and looked out vaguely into the night, his +thoughts swiftly readjusting themselves. + +He was alone. The silence of the night, the infinite repose of +the flat, bare earth--two immensities--widened around and above +him like illimitable seas. A grey half-light, mysterious, grave, +flooded downward from the stars. + +Annixter was in torment. Now, there could be no longer any +doubt--now it was Hilma or nothing. Once out of his reach, once +lost to him, and the recollection of her assailed him with +unconquerable vehemence. Much as she had occupied his mind, he +had never realised till now how vast had been the place she had +filled in his life. He had told her as much, but even then he +did not believe it. + +Suddenly, a bitter rage against himself overwhelmed him as he +thought of the hurt he had given her the previous evening. He +should have managed differently. How, he did not know, but the +sense of the outrage he had put upon her abruptly recoiled +against him with cruel force. Now, he was sorry for it, +infinitely sorry, passionately sorry. He had hurt her. He had +brought the tears to her eyes. He had so flagrantly insulted her +that she could no longer bear to breathe the same air with him. +She had told her parents all. She had left Quien Sabe--had left +him for good, at the very moment when he believed he had won her. +Brute, beast that he was, he had driven her away. + +An hour went by; then two, then four, then six. Annixter still +sat in his place, groping and battling in a confusion of spirit, +the like of which he had never felt before. He did not know what +was the matter with him. He could not find his way out of the +dark and out of the turmoil that wheeled around him. He had had +no experience with women. There was no precedent to guide him. +How was he to get out of this? What was the clew that would set +everything straight again? + +That he would give Hilma up, never once entered his head. Have +her he would. She had given herself to him. Everything should +have been easy after that, and instead, here he was alone in the +night, wrestling with himself, in deeper trouble than ever, and +Hilma farther than ever away from him. + +It was true, he might have Hilma, even now, if he was willing to +marry her. But marriage, to his mind, had been always a vague, +most remote possibility, almost as vague and as remote as his +death,--a thing that happened to some men, but that would surely +never occur to him, or, if it did, it would be after long years +had passed, when he was older, more settled, more mature--an +event that belonged to the period of his middle life, distant as +yet. + +He had never faced the question of his marriage. He had kept it +at an immense distance from him. It had never been a part of his +order of things. He was not a marrying man. + +But Hilma was an ever-present reality, as near to him as his +right hand. Marriage was a formless, far distant abstraction. +Hilma a tangible, imminent fact. Before he could think of the +two as one; before he could consider the idea of marriage, side +by side with the idea of Hilma, measureless distances had to be +traversed, things as disassociated in his mind as fire and water, +had to be fused together; and between the two he was torn as if +upon a rack. + +Slowly, by imperceptible degrees, the imagination, unused, +unwilling machine, began to work. The brain's activity lapsed +proportionately. He began to think less, and feel more. In that +rugged composition, confused, dark, harsh, a furrow had been +driven deep, a little seed planted, a little seed at first weak, +forgotten, lost in the lower dark places of his character. + +But as the intellect moved slower, its functions growing numb, +the idea of self dwindled. Annixter no longer considered +himself; no longer considered the notion of marriage from the +point of view of his own comfort, his own wishes, his own +advantage. He realised that in his newfound desire to make her +happy, he was sincere. There was something in that idea, after +all. To make some one happy--how about that now? It was worth +thinking of. + +Far away, low down in the east, a dim belt, a grey light began to +whiten over the horizon. The tower of the Mission stood black +against it. The dawn was coming. The baffling obscurity of the +night was passing. Hidden things were coming into view. + +Annixter, his eyes half-closed, his chin upon his fist, allowed +his imagination full play. How would it be if he should take +Hilma into his life, this beautiful young girl, pure as he now +knew her to be; innocent, noble with the inborn nobility of +dawning womanhood? An overwhelming sense of his own unworthiness +suddenly bore down upon him with crushing force, as he thought of +this. He had gone about the whole affair wrongly. He had been +mistaken from the very first. She was infinitely above him. He +did not want--he should not desire to be the master. It was she, +his servant, poor, simple, lowly even, who should condescend to +him. + +Abruptly there was presented to his mind's eye a picture of the +years to come, if he now should follow his best, his highest, his +most unselfish impulse. He saw Hilma, his own, for better or for +worse, for richer or for poorer, all barriers down between them, +he giving himself to her as freely, as nobly, as she had given +herself to him. By a supreme effort, not of the will, but of the +emotion, he fought his way across that vast gulf that for a time +had gaped between Hilma and the idea of his marriage. Instantly, +like the swift blending of beautiful colours, like the harmony of +beautiful chords of music, the two ideas melted into one, and in +that moment into his harsh, unlovely world a new idea was born. +Annixter stood suddenly upright, a mighty tenderness, a +gentleness of spirit, such as he had never conceived of, in his +heart strained, swelled, and in a moment seemed to burst. Out of +the dark furrows of his soul, up from the deep rugged recesses of +his being, something rose, expanding. He opened his arms wide. +An immense happiness overpowered him. Actual tears came to his +eyes. Without knowing why, he was not ashamed of it. This poor, +crude fellow, harsh, hard, narrow, with his unlovely nature, his +fierce truculency, his selfishness, his obstinacy, abruptly knew +that all the sweetness of life, all the great vivifying eternal +force of humanity had burst into life within him. + +The little seed, long since planted, gathering strength quietly, +had at last germinated. + +Then as the realisation of this hardened into certainty, in the +growing light of the new day that had just dawned for him, +Annixter uttered a cry. Now at length, he knew the meaning of it +all. + +"Why--I--I, I LOVE her," he cried. Never until then had it +occurred to him. Never until then, in all his thoughts of Hilma, +had that great word passed his lips. + +It was a Memnonian cry, the greeting of the hard, harsh image of +man, rough-hewn, flinty, granitic, uttering a note of joy, +acclaiming the new risen sun. + +By now it was almost day. The east glowed opalescent. All about +him Annixter saw the land inundated with light. But there was a +change. Overnight something had occurred. In his perturbation +the change seemed to him, at first, elusive, almost fanciful, +unreal. But now as the light spread, he looked again at the +gigantic scroll of ranch lands unrolled before him from edge to +edge of the horizon. The change was not fanciful. The change +was real. The earth was no longer bare. The land was no longer +barren,--no longer empty, no longer dull brown. All at once +Annixter shouted aloud. + +There it was, the Wheat, the Wheat! The little seed long +planted, germinating in the deep, dark furrows of the soil, +straining, swelling, suddenly in one night had burst upward to +the light. The wheat had come up. It was there before him, +around him, everywhere, illimitable, immeasurable. The winter +brownness of the ground was overlaid with a little shimmer of +green. The promise of the sowing was being fulfilled. The +earth, the loyal mother, who never failed, who never +disappointed, was keeping her faith again. Once more the +strength of nations was renewed. Once more the force of the +world was revivified. Once more the Titan, benignant, calm, +stirred and woke, and the morning abruptly blazed into glory upon +the spectacle of a man whose heart leaped exuberant with the love +of a woman, and an exulting earth gleaming transcendent with the +radiant magnificence of an inviolable pledge. + + + +III + + +Presley's room in the ranch house of Los Muertos was in the +second story of the building. It was a corner room; one of its +windows facing the south, the other the east. Its appointments +were of the simplest. In one angle was the small white painted +iron bed, covered with a white counterpane. The walls were hung +with a white paper figured with knots of pale green leaves, very +gay and bright. There was a straw matting on the floor. White +muslin half-curtains hung in the windows, upon the sills of which +certain plants bearing pink waxen flowers of which Presley did +not know the name, grew in oblong green boxes. The walls were +unadorned, save by two pictures, one a reproduction of the +"Reading from Homer," the other a charcoal drawing of the Mission +of San Juan de Guadalajara, which Presley had made himself. By +the east window stood the plainest of deal tables, innocent of +any cloth or covering, such as might have been used in a kitchen. +It was Presley's work table, and was invariably littered with +papers, half-finished manuscripts, drafts of poems, notebooks, +pens, half-smoked cigarettes, and the like. Near at hand, upon a +shelf, were his books. There were but two chairs in the room-- +the straight backed wooden chair, that stood in front of the +table, angular, upright, and in which it was impossible to take +one's ease, and the long comfortable wicker steamer chair, +stretching its length in front of the south window. Presley was +immensely fond of this room. It amused and interested him to +maintain its air of rigorous simplicity and freshness. He +abhorred cluttered bric-a-brac and meaningless objets d'art. +Once in so often he submitted his room to a vigorous inspection; +setting it to rights, removing everything but the essentials, the +few ornaments which, in a way, were part of his life. + +His writing had by this time undergone a complete change. The +notes for his great Song of the West, the epic poem he once had +hoped to write he had flung aside, together with all the abortive +attempts at its beginning. Also he had torn up a great quantity +of "fugitive" verses, preserving only a certain half-finished +poem, that he called "The Toilers." This poem was a comment upon +the social fabric, and had been inspired by the sight of a +painting he had seen in Cedarquist's art gallery. He had written +all but the last verse. + +On the day that he had overheard the conversation between Dyke +and Caraher, in the latter's saloon, which had acquainted him +with the monstrous injustice of the increased tariff, Presley had +returned to Los Muertos, white and trembling, roused to a pitch +of exaltation, the like of which he had never known in all his +life. His wrath was little short of even Caraher's. He too "saw +red"; a mighty spirit of revolt heaved tumultuous within him. It +did not seem possible that this outrage could go on much longer. +The oppression was incredible; the plain story of it set down in +truthful statement of fact would not be believed by the outside +world. + +He went up to his little room and paced the floor with clenched +fists and burning face, till at last, the repression of his +contending thoughts all but suffocated him, and he flung himself +before his table and began to write. For a time, his pen seemed +to travel of itself; words came to him without searching, shaping +themselves into phrases,--the phrases building themselves up to +great, forcible sentences, full of eloquence, of fire, of +passion. As his prose grew more exalted, it passed easily into +the domain of poetry. Soon the cadence of his paragraphs settled +to an ordered beat and rhythm, and in the end Presley had thrust +aside his journal and was once more writing verse. + +He picked up his incomplete poem of "The Toilers," read it +hastily a couple of times to catch its swing, then the Idea of +the last verse--the Idea for which he so long had sought in vain-- +abruptly springing to his brain, wrote it off without so much as +replenishing his pen with ink. He added still another verse, +bringing the poem to a definite close, resuming its entire +conception, and ending with a single majestic thought, simple, +noble, dignified, absolutely convincing. + +Presley laid down his pen and leaned back in his chair, with the +certainty that for one moment he had touched untrod heights. His +hands were cold, his head on fire, his heart leaping tumultuous +in his breast. + +Now at last, he had achieved. He saw why he had never grasped +the inspiration for his vast, vague, IMPERSONAL Song of the West. +At the time when he sought for it, his convictions had not been +aroused; he had not then cared for the People. His sympathies +had not been touched. Small wonder that he had missed it. Now +he was of the People; he had been stirred to his lowest depths. +His earnestness was almost a frenzy. He BELIEVED, and so to him +all things were possible at once . + +Then the artist in him reasserted itself. He became more +interested in his poem, as such, than in the cause that had +inspired it. He went over it again, retouching it carefully, +changing a word here and there, and improving its rhythm. For +the moment, he forgot the People, forgot his rage, his agitation +of the previous hour, he remembered only that he had written a +great poem. + +Then doubt intruded. After all, was it so great? Did not its +sublimity overpass a little the bounds of the ridiculous? Had he +seen true? Had he failed again? He re-read the poem carefully; +and it seemed all at once to lose force. + +By now, Presley could not tell whether what he had written was +true poetry or doggerel. He distrusted profoundly his own +judgment. He must have the opinion of some one else, some one +competent to judge. He could not wait; to-morrow would not do. +He must know to a certainty before he could rest that night. + +He made a careful copy of what he had written, and putting on his +hat and laced boots, went down stairs and out upon the lawn, +crossing over to the stables. He found Phelps there, washing +down the buckboard. + +"Do you know where Vanamee is to-day?" he asked the latter. +Phelps put his chin in the air. + +"Ask me something easy," he responded. "He might be at +Guadalajara, or he might be up at Osterman's, or he might be a +hundred miles away from either place. I know where he ought to +be, Mr. Presley, but that ain't saying where the crazy gesabe is. +He OUGHT to be range-riding over east of Four, at the head waters +of Mission Creek." + +"I'll try for him there, at all events," answered Presley. "If +you see Harran when he comes in, tell him I may not be back in +time for supper." + +Presley found the pony in the corral, cinched the saddle upon +him, and went off over the Lower Road, going eastward at a brisk +canter. + +At Hooven's he called a "How do you do" to Minna, whom he saw +lying in a slat hammock under the mammoth live oak, her foot in +bandages; and then galloped on over the bridge across the +irrigating ditch, wondering vaguely what would become of such a +pretty girl as Minna, and if in the end she would marry the +Portuguese foreman in charge of the ditching-gang. He told +himself that he hoped she would, and that speedily. There was no +lack of comment as to Minna Hooven about the ranches. Certainly +she was a good girl, but she was seen at all hours here and there +about Bonneville and Guadalajara, skylarking with the Portuguese +farm hands of Quien Sabe and Los Muertos. She was very pretty; +the men made fools of themselves over her. Presley hoped they +would not end by making a fool of her. + +Just beyond the irrigating ditch, Presley left the Lower Road, +and following a trail that branched off southeasterly from this +point, held on across the Fourth Division of the ranch, keeping +the Mission Creek on his left. A few miles farther on, he went +through a gate in a barbed wire fence, and at once engaged +himself in a system of little arroyos and low rolling hills, that +steadily lifted and increased in size as he proceeded. This +higher ground was the advance guard of the Sierra foothills, and +served as the stock range for Los Muertos. The hills were huge +rolling hummocks of bare ground, covered only by wild oats. At +long intervals, were isolated live oaks. In the canyons and +arroyos, the chaparral and manzanita grew in dark olive-green +thickets. The ground was honey-combed with gopher-holes, and the +gophers themselves were everywhere. Occasionally a jack rabbit +bounded across the open, from one growth of chaparral to another, +taking long leaps, his ears erect. High overhead, a hawk or two +swung at anchor, and once, with a startling rush of wings, a +covey of quail flushed from the brush at the side of the trail. + +On the hillsides, in thinly scattered groups were the cattle, +grazing deliberately, working slowly toward the water-holes for +their evening drink, the horses keeping to themselves, the colts +nuzzling at their mothers' bellies, whisking their tails, +stamping their unshod feet. But once in a remoter field, +solitary, magnificent, enormous, the short hair curling tight +upon his forehead, his small red eyes twinkling, his vast neck +heavy with muscles, Presley came upon the monarch, the king, the +great Durham bull, maintaining his lonely state, unapproachable, +austere. + +Presley found the one-time shepherd by a water-hole, in a far +distant corner of the range. He had made his simple camp for the +night. His blue-grey army blanket lay spread under a live oak, +his horse grazed near at hand. He himself sat on his heels +before a little fire of dead manzanita roots, cooking his coffee +and bacon. Never had Presley conceived so keen an impression of +loneliness as his crouching figure presented. The bald, bare +landscape widened about him to infinity. Vanamee was a spot in +it all, a tiny dot, a single atom of human organisation, floating +endlessly on the ocean of an illimitable nature. + +The two friends ate together, and Vanamee, having snared a brace +of quails, dressed and then roasted them on a sharpened stick. +After eating, they drank great refreshing draughts from the +water-hole. Then, at length, Presley having lit his cigarette, +and Vanamee his pipe, the former said: + +"Vanamee, I have been writing again." + +Vanamee turned his lean ascetic face toward him, his black eyes +fixed attentively. + +"I know," he said, "your journal." + +"No, this is a poem. You remember, I told you about it once. +'The Toilers,' I called it." + +"Oh, verse! Well, I am glad you have gone back to it. It is +your natural vehicle." + +"You remember the poem?" asked Presley. "It was unfinished." + +"Yes, I remember it. There was better promise in it than +anything you ever wrote. Now, I suppose, you have finished it." + +Without reply, Presley brought it from out the breast pocket of +his shooting coat. The moment seemed propitious. The stillness +of the vast, bare hills was profound. The sun was setting in a +cloudless brazier of red light; a golden dust pervaded all the +landscape. Presley read his poem aloud. When he had finished, +his friend looked at him. + +"What have you been doing lately?" he demanded. Presley, +wondering, told of his various comings and goings. + +"I don't mean that," returned the other. "Something has happened +to you, something has aroused you. I am right, am I not? Yes, +I thought so. In this poem of yours, you have not been trying to +make a sounding piece of literature. You wrote it under +tremendous stress. Its very imperfections show that. It is +better than a mere rhyme. It is an Utterance--a Message. It is +Truth. You have come back to the primal heart of things, and you +have seen clearly. Yes, it is a great poem." + +"Thank you," exclaimed Presley fervidly. "I had begun to +mistrust myself." + +"Now," observed Vanamee, "I presume you will rush it into print. +To have formulated a great thought, simply to have accomplished, +is not enough." + +"I think I am sincere," objected Presley. "If it is good it will +do good to others. You said yourself it was a Message. If it +has any value, I do not think it would be right to keep it back +from even a very small and most indifferent public." + +"Don't publish it in the magazines at all events," Vanamee +answered. "Your inspiration has come FROM the People. Then let +it go straight TO the People--not the literary readers of the +monthly periodicals, the rich, who would only be indirectly +interested. If you must publish it, let it be in the daily +press. Don't interrupt. I know what you will say. It will be +that the daily press is common, is vulgar, is undignified; and I +tell you that such a poem as this of yours, called as it is, 'The +Toilers,' must be read BY the Toilers. It MUST BE common; it +must be vulgarised. You must not stand upon your dignity with +the People, if you are to reach them." + +"That is true, I suppose," Presley admitted, "but I can't get rid +of the idea that it would be throwing my poem away. The great +magazine gives me such--a--background; gives me such weight." + +"Gives YOU such weight, gives you such background. Is it +YOURSELF you think of? You helper of the helpless. Is that your +sincerity? You must sink yourself; must forget yourself and your +own desire of fame, of admitted success. It is your POEM, your +MESSAGE, that must prevail,--not YOU, who wrote it. You preach a +doctrine of abnegation, of self-obliteration, and you sign your +name to your words as high on the tablets as you can reach, so +that all the world may see, not the poem, but the poet. Presley, +there are many like you. The social reformer writes a book on +the iniquity of the possession of land, and out of the proceeds, +buys a corner lot. The economist who laments the hardships of +the poor, allows himself to grow rich upon the sale of his book." + +But Presley would hear no further. + +"No," he cried, "I know I am sincere, and to prove it to you, I +will publish my poem, as you say, in the daily press, and I will +accept no money for it." + +They talked on for about an hour, while the evening wore away. +Presley very soon noticed that Vanamee was again preoccupied. +More than ever of late, his silence, his brooding had increased. +By and by he rose abruptly, turning his head to the north, in the +direction of the Mission church of San Juan. +"I think," he said to Presley, "that I must be going." + +"Going? Where to at this time of night?" + +"Off there." Vanamee made an uncertain gesture toward the north. +"Good-bye," and without another word he disappeared in the grey +of the twilight. Presley was left alone wondering. He found his +horse, and, tightening the girths, mounted and rode home under +the sheen of the stars, thoughtful, his head bowed. Before he +went to bed that night he sent "The Toilers" to the Sunday Editor +of a daily newspaper in San Francisco. + +Upon leaving Presley, Vanamee, his thumbs hooked into his empty +cartridge belt, strode swiftly down from the hills of the Los +Muertos stock-range and on through the silent town of +Guadalajara. His lean, swarthy face, with its hollow cheeks, +fine, black, pointed beard, and sad eyes, was set to the +northward. As was his custom, he was bareheaded, and the +rapidity of his stride made a breeze in his long, black hair. He +knew where he was going. He knew what he must live through that +night. + +Again, the deathless grief that never slept leaped out of the +shadows, and fastened upon his shoulders. It was scourging him +back to that scene of a vanished happiness, a dead romance, a +perished idyl,--the Mission garden in the shade of the venerable +pear trees. + +But, besides this, other influences tugged at his heart. There +was a mystery in the garden. In that spot the night was not +always empty, the darkness not always silent. Something far off +stirred and listened to his cry, at times drawing nearer to him. +At first this presence had been a matter for terror; but of late, +as he felt it gradually drawing nearer, the terror had at long +intervals given place to a feeling of an almost ineffable +sweetness. But distrusting his own senses, unwilling to submit +himself to such torturing, uncertain happiness, averse to the +terrible confusion of spirit that followed upon a night spent in +the garden, Vanamee had tried to keep away from the place. +However, when the sorrow of his life reassailed him, and the +thoughts and recollections of Angele brought the ache into his +heart, and the tears to his eyes, the temptation to return to the +garden invariably gripped him close. There were times when he +could not resist. Of themselves, his footsteps turned in that +direction. It was almost as if he himself had been called. + +Guadalajara was silent, dark. Not even in Solotari's was there a +light. The town was asleep. Only the inevitable guitar hummed +from an unseen 'dobe. Vanamee pushed on. The smell of the +fields and open country, and a distant scent of flowers that he +knew well, came to his nostrils, as he emerged from the town by +way of the road that led on towards the Mission through Quien +Sabe. On either side of him lay the brown earth, silently +nurturing the implanted seed. Two days before it had rained +copiously, and the soil, still moist, disengaged a pungent aroma +of fecundity. + +Vanamee, following the road, passed through the collection of +buildings of Annixter's home ranch. Everything slept. At +intervals, the aer-motor on the artesian well creaked audibly, as +it turned in a languid breeze from the northeast. A cat, hunting +field-mice, crept from the shadow of the gigantic barn and paused +uncertainly in the open, the tip of her tail twitching. From +within the barn itself came the sound of the friction of a heavy +body and a stir of hoofs, as one of the dozing cows lay down with +a long breath. + +Vanamee left the ranch house behind him and proceeded on his way. +Beyond him, to the right of the road, he could make out the +higher ground in the Mission enclosure, and the watching tower of +the Mission itself. The minutes passed. He went steadily +forward. Then abruptly he paused, his head in the air, eye and +ear alert. To that strange sixth sense of his, responsive as the +leaves of the sensitive plant, had suddenly come the impression +of a human being near at hand. He had neither seen nor heard, +but for all that he stopped an instant in his tracks; then, the +sensation confirmed, went on again with slow steps, advancing +warily. + +At last, his swiftly roving eyes lighted upon an object, just +darker than the grey-brown of the night-ridden land. It was at +some distance from the roadside. Vanamee approached it +cautiously, leaving the road, treading carefully upon the moist +clods of earth underfoot. Twenty paces distant, he halted. + +Annixter was there, seated upon a round, white rock, his back +towards him. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, +his chin in his hands. He did not move. Silent, motionless, he +gazed out upon the flat, sombre land. + +It was the night wherein the master of Quien Sabe wrought out his +salvation, struggling with Self from dusk to dawn. At the moment +when Vanamee came upon him, the turmoil within him had only +begun. The heart of the man had not yet wakened. The night was +young, the dawn far distant, and all around him the fields of +upturned clods lay bare and brown, empty of all life, unbroken by +a single green shoot. + +For a moment, the life-circles of these two men, of so widely +differing characters, touched each other, there in the silence of +the night under the stars. Then silently Vanamee withdrew, going +on his way, wondering at the trouble that, like himself, drove +this hardheaded man of affairs, untroubled by dreams, out into +the night to brood over an empty land. + +Then speedily he forgot all else. The material world drew off +from him. Reality dwindled to a point and vanished like the +vanishing of a star at moonrise. Earthly things dissolved and +disappeared, as a strange, unnamed essence flowed in upon him. A +new atmosphere for him pervaded his surroundings. He entered the +world of the Vision, of the Legend, of the Miracle, where all +things were possible. He stood at the gate of the Mission +garden. + +Above him rose the ancient tower of the Mission church. Through +the arches at its summit, where swung the Spanish queen's bells, +he saw the slow-burning stars. The silent bats, with flickering +wings, threw their dancing shadows on the pallid surface of the +venerable facade. + +Not the faintest chirring of a cricket broke the silence. The +bees were asleep. In the grasses, in the trees, deep in the +calix of punka flower and magnolia bloom, the gnats, the +caterpillars, the beetles, all the microscopic, multitudinous +life of the daytime drowsed and dozed. Not even the minute +scuffling of a lizard over the warm, worn pavement of the +colonnade disturbed the infinite repose, the profound stillness. +Only within the garden, the intermittent trickling of the +fountain made itself heard, flowing steadily, marking off the +lapse of seconds, the progress of hours, the cycle of years, the +inevitable march of centuries. +At one time, the doorway before which Vanamee now stood had been +hermetically closed. But he, himself, had long since changed +that. He stood before it for a moment, steeping himself in the +mystery and romance of the place, then raising he latch, pushed +open the gate, entered, and closed it softly behind him. He was +in the cloister garden. + +The stars were out, strewn thick and close in the deep blue of +the sky, the milky way glowing like a silver veil. Ursa Major +wheeled gigantic in the north. The great nebula in Orion was a +whorl of shimmering star dust. Venus flamed a lambent disk of +pale saffron, low over the horizon. From edge to edge of the +world marched the constellations, like the progress of emperors, +and from the innumerable glory of their courses a mysterious +sheen of diaphanous light disengaged itself, expanding over all +the earth, serene, infinite, majestic. + +The little garden revealed itself but dimly beneath the brooding +light, only half emerging from the shadow. The polished surfaces +of the leaves of the pear trees winked faintly back the reflected +light as the trees just stirred in the uncertain breeze. A +blurred shield of silver marked the ripples of the fountain. +Under the flood of dull blue lustre, the gravelled walks lay +vague amid the grasses, like webs of white satin on the bed of a +lake. Against the eastern wall the headstones of the graves, an +indistinct procession of grey cowls ranged themselves. + +Vanamee crossed the garden, pausing to kiss the turf upon +Angele's grave. Then he approached the line of pear trees, and +laid himself down in their shadow, his chin propped upon his +hands, his eyes wandering over the expanse of the little valley +that stretched away from the foot of the hill upon which the +Mission was built. + +Once again he summoned the Vision. Once again he conjured up the +Illusion. Once again, tortured with doubt, racked with a +deathless grief, he craved an Answer of the night. Once again, +mystic that he was, he sent his mind out from him across the +enchanted sea of the Supernatural. Hope, of what he did not +know, roused up within him. Surely, on such a night as this, the +hallucination must define itself. Surely, the Manifestation must +be vouchsafed. + +His eyes closed, his will girding itself to a supreme effort, his +senses exalted to a state of pleasing numbness, he called upon +Angele to come to him, his voiceless cry penetrating far out into +that sea of faint, ephemeral light that floated tideless over the +little valley beneath him. Then motionless, prone upon the +ground, he waited. + +Months had passed since that first night when, at length, an +Answer had come to Vanamee. At first, startled out of all +composure, troubled and stirred to his lowest depths, because of +the very thing for which he sought, he resolved never again to +put his strange powers to the test. But for all that, he had +come a second night to the garden, and a third, and a fourth. At +last, his visits were habitual. Night after night he was there, +surrendering himself to the influences of the place, gradually +convinced that something did actually answer when he called. His +faith increased as the winter grew into spring. As the spring +advanced and the nights became shorter, it crystallised into +certainty. Would he have her again, his love, long dead? Would +she come to him once more out of the grave, out of the night? He +could not tell; he could only hope. All that he knew was that +his cry found an answer, that his outstretched hands, groping in +the darkness, met the touch of other fingers. Patiently he +waited. The nights became warmer as the spring drew on. The +stars shone clearer. The nights seemed brighter. For nearly a +month after the occasion of his first answer nothing new +occurred. Some nights it failed him entirely; upon others it was +faint, illusive. + +Then, at last, the most subtle, the barest of perceptible changes +began. His groping mind far-off there, wandering like a lost +bird over the valley, touched upon some thing again. touched and +held it and this time drew it a single step closer to him. His +heart beating, the blood surging in his temples, he watched with +the eyes of his imagination, this gradual approach. What was +coming to him? Who was coming to him? Shrouded in the obscurity +of the night, whose was the face now turned towards his? Whose +the footsteps that with such infinite slowness drew nearer to +where he waited? He did not dare to say. + +His mind went back many years to that time before the tragedy of +Angele's death, before the mystery of the Other. He waited then +as he waited now. But then he had not waited in vain. Then, as +now, he had seemed to feel her approach, seemed to feel her +drawing nearer and nearer to their rendezvous. Now, what would +happen? He did not know. He waited. He waited, hoping all +things. He waited, believing all things. He waited, enduring +all things. He trusted in the Vision. + +Meanwhile, as spring advanced, the flowers in the Seed ranch +began to come to life. Over the five hundred acres whereon the +flowers were planted, the widening growth of vines and bushes +spread like the waves of a green sea. Then, timidly, colours of +the faintest tints began to appear. Under the moonlight, Vanamee +saw them expanding, delicate pink, faint blue, tenderest +variations of lavender and yellow, white shimmering with +reflections of gold, all subdued and pallid in the moonlight. + +By degrees, the night became impregnated with the perfume of the +flowers. Illusive at first, evanescent as filaments of gossamer; +then as the buds opened, emphasising itself, breathing deeper, +stronger. An exquisite mingling of many odours passed +continually over the Mission, from the garden of the Seed ranch, +meeting and blending with the aroma of its magnolia buds and +punka blossoms. + +As the colours of the flowers of the Seed ranch deepened, and as +their odours penetrated deeper and more distinctly, as the +starlight of each succeeding night grew brighter and the air +became warmer, the illusion defined itself. By imperceptible +degrees, as Vanamee waited under the shadows of the pear trees, +the Answer grew nearer and nearer. He saw nothing but the +distant glimmer of the flowers. He heard nothing but the drip of +the fountain. Nothing moved about him but the invisible, slow- +passing breaths of perfume; yet he felt the approach of the +Vision. + +It came first to about the middle of the Seed ranch itself, some +half a mile away, where the violets grew; shrinking, timid +flowers, hiding close to the ground. Then it passed forward +beyond the violets, and drew nearer and stood amid the +mignonette, hardier blooms that dared look heavenward from out +the leaves. A few nights later it left the mignonette behind, +and advanced into the beds of white iris that pushed more boldly +forth from the earth, their waxen petals claiming the attention. +It advanced then a long step into the proud, challenging beauty +of the carnations and roses; and at last, after many nights, +Vanamee felt that it paused, as if trembling at its hardihood, +full in the superb glory of the royal lilies themselves, that +grew on the extreme border of the Seed ranch nearest to him. +After this, there was a certain long wait. Then, upon a dark +midnight, it advanced again. Vanamee could scarcely repress a +cry. Now, the illusion emerged from the flowers. It stood, not +distant, but unseen, almost at the base of the hill upon whose +crest he waited, in a depression of the ground where the shadows +lay thickest. It was nearly within earshot. + +The nights passed. The spring grew warmer. In the daytime +intermittent rains freshened all the earth. The flowers of the +Seed ranch grew rapidly. Bud after bud burst forth, while those +already opened expanded to full maturity. The colour of the Seed +ranch deepened. + +One night, after hours of waiting, Vanamee felt upon his cheek +the touch of a prolonged puff of warm wind, breathing across the +little valley from out the east. It reached the Mission garden +and stirred the branches of the pear trees. It seemed veritably +to be compounded of the very essence of the flowers. Never had +the aroma been so sweet, so pervasive. It passed and faded, +leaving in its wake an absolute silence. Then, at length, the +silence of the night, that silence to which Vanamee had so long +appealed, was broken by a tiny sound. Alert, half-risen from the +ground, he listened; for now, at length, he heard something. The +sound repeated itself. It came from near at hand, from the thick +shadow at the foot of the hill. What it was, he could not tell, +but it did not belong to a single one of the infinite similar +noises of the place with which he was so familiar. It was +neither the rustle of a leaf, the snap of a parted twig, the +drone of an insect, the dropping of a magnolia blossom. It was a +vibration merely, faint, elusive, impossible of definition; a +minute notch in the fine, keen edge of stillness. + +Again the nights passed. The summer stars became brighter. The +warmth increased. The flowers of the Seed ranch grew still more. +The five hundred acres of the ranch were carpeted with them. + +At length, upon a certain midnight, a new light began to spread +in the sky. The thin scimitar of the moon rose, veiled and dim +behind the earth-mists. The light increased. Distant objects, +until now hidden, came into view, and as the radiance brightened, +Vanamee, looking down upon the little valley, saw a spectacle of +incomparable beauty. All the buds of the Seed ranch had opened. +The faint tints of the flowers had deepened, had asserted +themselves. They challenged the eye. Pink became a royal red. +Blue rose into purple. Yellow flamed into orange. Orange glowed +golden and brilliant. The earth disappeared under great bands +and fields of resplendent colour. Then, at length, the moon +abruptly soared zenithward from out the veiling mist, passing +from one filmy haze to another. For a moment there was a gleam +of a golden light, and Vanamee, his eyes searching the shade at +the foot of the hill, felt his heart suddenly leap, and then hang +poised, refusing to beat. In that instant of passing light, +something had caught his eye. Something that moved, down there, +half in and half out of the shadow, at the hill's foot. It had +come and gone in an instant. The haze once more screened the +moonlight. The shade again engulfed the vision. What was it he +had seen? He did not know. So brief had been that movement, the +drowsy brain had not been quick enough to interpret the cipher +message of the eye. Now it was gone. But something had been +there. He had seen it. Was it the lifting of a strand of hair, +the wave of a white hand, the flutter of a garment's edge? He +could not tell, but it did not belong to any of those sights +which he had seen so often in that place. It was neither the +glancing of a moth's wing, the nodding of a wind-touched blossom, +nor the noiseless flitting of a bat. It was a gleam merely, +faint, elusive, impossible of definition, an intangible +agitation, in the vast, dim blur of the darkness. + +And that was all. Until now no single real thing had occurred, +nothing that Vanamee could reduce to terms of actuality, nothing +he could put into words. The manifestation, when not +recognisable to that strange sixth sense of his, appealed only to +the most refined, the most delicate perception of eye and ear. +It was all ephemeral, filmy, dreamy, the mystic forming of the +Vision--the invisible developing a concrete nucleus, the +starlight coagulating, the radiance of the flowers thickening to +something actual; perfume, the most delicious fragrance, becoming +a tangible presence. + +But into that garden the serpent intruded. Though cradled in the +slow rhythm of the dream, lulled by this beauty of a summer's +night, heavy with the scent of flowers, the silence broken only +by a rippling fountain, the darkness illuminated by a world of +radiant blossoms, Vanamee could not forget the tragedy of the +Other; that terror of many years ago,--that prowler of the night, +that strange, fearful figure with the unseen face, swooping in +there from out the darkness, gone in an instant, yet leaving +behind the trail and trace of death and of pollution. + +Never had Vanamee seen this more clearly than when leaving +Presley on the stock range of Los Muertos, he had come across to +the Mission garden by way of the Quien Sabe ranch. + +It was the same night in which Annixter out-watched the stars, +coming, at last, to himself. + +As the hours passed, the two men, far apart, ignoring each other, +waited for the Manifestation,--Annixter on the ranch, Vanamee in +the garden. + +Prone upon his face, under the pear trees, his forehead buried in +the hollow of his arm, Vanamee lay motionless. For the last +time, raising his head, he sent his voiceless cry out into the +night across the multi-coloured levels of the little valley, +calling upon the miracle, summoning the darkness to give Angele +back to him, resigning himself to the hallucination. He bowed +his head upon his arm again and waited. The minutes passed. The +fountain dripped steadily. Over the hills a haze of saffron +light foretold the rising of the full moon. Nothing stirred. +The silence was profound. + +Then, abruptly, Vanamee's right hand shut tight upon his wrist. +There--there it was. It began again, his invocation was +answered. Far off there, the ripple formed again upon the still, +black pool of the night. No sound, no sight; vibration merely, +appreciable by some sublimated faculty of the mind as yet +unnamed. Rigid, his nerves taut, motionless, prone on the +ground, he waited. + +It advanced with infinite slowness. Now it passed through the +beds of violets, now through the mignonette. A moment later, and +he knew it stood among the white iris. Then it left those +behind. It was in the splendour of the red roses and carnations. +It passed like a moving star into the superb abundance, the +imperial opulence of the royal lilies. It was advancing slowly, +but there was no pause. He held his breath, not daring to raise +his head. It passed beyond the limits of the Seed ranch, and +entered the shade at the foot of the hill below him. Would it +come farther than this? Here it had always stopped hitherto, +stopped for a moment, and then, in spite of his efforts, had +slipped from his grasp and faded back into the night. But now he +wondered if he had been willing to put forth his utmost strength, +after all. Had there not always been an element of dread in the +thought of beholding the mystery face to face? Had he not even +allowed the Vision to dissolve, the Answer to recede into the +obscurity whence it came? + +But never a night had been so beautiful as this. It was the full +period of the spring. The air was a veritable caress. The +infinite repose of the little garden, sleeping under the night, +was delicious beyond expression. It was a tiny corner of the +world, shut off, discreet, distilling romance, a garden of +dreams, of enchantments. + +Below, in the little valley, the resplendent colourations of the +million flowers, roses, lilies, hyacinths, carnations, violets, +glowed like incandescence in the golden light of the rising moon. +The air was thick with the perfume, heavy with it, clogged with +it. The sweetness filled the very mouth. The throat choked with +it. Overhead wheeled the illimitable procession of the +constellations. Underfoot, the earth was asleep. The very +flowers were dreaming. A cathedral hush overlay all the land, +and a sense of benediction brooded low,--a divine kindliness +manifesting itself in beauty, in peace, in absolute repose. + +It was a time for visions. It was the hour when dreams come +true, and lying deep in the grasses beneath the pear trees, +Vanamee, dizzied with mysticism, reaching up and out toward the +supernatural, felt, as it were, his mind begin to rise upward +from out his body. He passed into a state of being the like of +which he had not known before. He felt that his imagination was +reshaping itself, preparing to receive an impression never +experienced until now. His body felt light to him, then it +dwindled, vanished. He saw with new eyes, heard with new ears, +felt with a new heart. + +"Come to me," he murmured. + +Then slowly he felt the advance of the Vision. It was +approaching. Every instant it drew gradually nearer. At last, +he was to see. It had left the shadow at the base of the hill; +it was on the hill itself. Slowly, steadily, it ascended the +slope; just below him there, he heard a faint stirring. The +grasses rustled under the touch of a foot. The leaves of the +bushes murmured, as a hand brushed against them; a slender twig +creaked. The sounds of approach were more distinct. They came +nearer. They reached the top of the hill. They were within +whispering distance. + +Vanamee, trembling, kept his head buried in his arm. The sounds, +at length, paused definitely. The Vision could come no nearer. +He raised his head and looked. +The moon had risen. Its great shield of gold stood over the +eastern horizon. Within six feet of Vanamee, clear and distinct, +against the disk of the moon, stood the figure of a young girl. +She was dressed in a gown of scarlet silk, with flowing sleeves, +such as Japanese wear, embroidered with flowers and figures of +birds worked in gold threads. On either side of her face, making +three-cornered her round, white forehead, hung the soft masses of +her hair of gold. Her hands hung limply at her sides. But from +between her parted lips--lips of almost an Egyptian fulness--her +breath came slow and regular, and her eyes, heavy lidded, +slanting upwards toward the temples, perplexing, oriental, were +closed. She was asleep. + +From out this life of flowers, this world of colour, this +atmosphere oppressive with perfume, this darkness clogged and +cloyed, and thickened with sweet odours, she came to him. She +came to him from out of the flowers, the smell of the roses in +her hair of gold, the aroma and the imperial red of the +carnations in her lips, the whiteness of the lilies, the perfume +of the lilies, and the lilies' slender, balancing grace in her +neck. Her hands disengaged the scent of the heliotrope. The +folds of her scarlet gown gave off the enervating smell of +poppies. Her feet were redolent of hyacinth. She stood before +him, a Vision realised--a dream come true. She emerged from out +the invisible. He beheld her, a figure of gold and pale +vermilion, redolent of perfume, poised motionless in the faint +saffron sheen of the new-risen moon. She, a creation of sleep, +was herself asleep. She, a dream, was herself dreaming. + +Called forth from out the darkness, from the grip of the earth, +the embrace of the grave, from out the memory of corruption, she +rose into light and life, divinely pure. Across that white +forehead was no smudge, no trace of an earthly pollution--no mark +of a terrestrial dishonour. He saw in her the same beauty of +untainted innocence he had known in his youth. Years had made no +difference with her. She was still young. It was the old purity +that returned, the deathless beauty, the ever-renascent life, the +eternal consecrated and immortal youth. For a few seconds, she +stood there before him, and he, upon the ground at her feet, +looked up at her, spellbound. Then, slowly she withdrew. Still +asleep, her eyelids closed, she turned from him, descending the +slope. She was gone. + +Vanamee started up, coming, as it were, to himself, looking +wildly about him. Sarria was there. + +"I saw her," said the priest. "It was Angele, the little girl, +your Angele's daughter. She is like her mother." + +But Vanamee scarcely heard. He walked as if in a trance, pushing +by Sarria, going forth from the garden. Angele or Angele's +daughter, it was all one with him. It was She. Death was +overcome. The grave vanquished. Life, ever-renewed, alone +existed. Time was naught; change was naught; all things were +immortal but evil; all things eternal but grief. + +Suddenly, the dawn came; the east burned roseate toward the +zenith. Vanamee walked on, he knew not where. The dawn grew +brighter. At length, he paused upon the crest of a hill +overlooking the ranchos, and cast his eye below him to the +southward. Then, suddenly flinging up his arms, he uttered a +great cry. + +There it was. The Wheat! The Wheat! In the night it had come +up. It was there, everywhere, from margin to margin of the +horizon. The earth, long empty, teemed with green life. Once +more the pendulum of the seasons swung in its mighty arc, from +death back to life. Life out of death, eternity rising from out +dissolution. There was the lesson. Angele was not the symbol, +but the PROOF of immortality. The seed dying, rotting and +corrupting in the earth; rising again in life unconquerable, and +in immaculate purity,--Angele dying as she gave birth to her +little daughter, life springing from her death,--the pure, +unconquerable, coming forth from the defiled. Why had he not had +the knowledge of God? Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not +quickened except it die. So the seed had died. So died Angele. +And that which thou sowest, thou sowest not that body that shall +be, but bare grain. It may chance of wheat, or of some other +grain. The wheat called forth from out the darkness, from out +the grip of the earth, of the grave, from out corruption, rose +triumphant into light and life. So Angele, so life, so also the +resurrection of the dead. It is sown in corruption. It is +raised in incorruption. It is sown in dishonour. It is raised +in glory. It is sown in weakness. It is raised in power. Death +was swallowed up in Victory. + +The sun rose. The night was over. The glory of the terrestrial +was one, and the glory of the celestial was another. Then, as +the glory of sun banished the lesser glory of moon and stars, +Vanamee, from his mountain top, beholding the eternal green life +of the growing Wheat, bursting its bonds, and in his heart +exulting in his triumph over the grave, flung out his arms with a +mighty shout: + +"Oh, Death, where is thy sting? Oh, Grave, where is thy +victory?" + + + +IV + + +Presley's Socialistic poem, "The Toilers," had an enormous +success. The editor of the Sunday supplement of the San +Francisco paper to which it was sent, printed it in Gothic type, +with a scare-head title so decorative as to be almost illegible, +and furthermore caused the poem to be illustrated by one of the +paper's staff artists in a most impressive fashion. The whole +affair occupied an entire page. Thus advertised, the poem +attracted attention. It was promptly copied in New York, Boston, +and Chicago papers. It was discussed, attacked, defended, +eulogised, ridiculed. It was praised with the most fulsome +adulation; assailed with the most violent condemnation. +Editorials were written upon it. Special articles, in literary +pamphlets, dissected its rhetoric and prosody. The phrases were +quoted,--were used as texts for revolutionary sermons, +reactionary speeches. It was parodied; it was distorted so as to +read as an advertisement for patented cereals and infants' foods. +Finally, the editor of an enterprising monthly magazine reprinted +the poem, supplementing it by a photograph and biography of +Presley himself. + +Presley was stunned, bewildered. He began to wonder at himself. +Was he actually the "greatest American poet since Bryant"? He +had had no thought of fame while composing "The Toilers." He had +only been moved to his heart's foundations,--thoroughly in +earnest, seeing clearly,--and had addressed himself to the poem's +composition in a happy moment when words came easily to him, and +the elaboration of fine sentences was not difficult. Was it thus +fame was achieved? For a while he was tempted to cross the +continent and go to New York and there come unto his own, +enjoying the triumph that awaited him. But soon he denied +himself this cheap reward. Now he was too much in earnest. He +wanted to help his People, the community in which he lived--the +little world of the San Joaquin, at grapples with the Railroad. +The struggle had found its poet. He told himself that his place +was here. Only the words of the manager of a lecture bureau +troubled him for a moment. To range the entire nation, telling +all his countrymen of the drama that was working itself out on +this fringe of the continent, this ignored and distant Pacific +Coast, rousing their interest and stirring them up to action-- +appealed to him. It might do great good. To devote himself to +"the Cause," accepting no penny of remuneration; to give his life +to loosing the grip of the iron-hearted monster of steel and +steam would be beyond question heroic. Other States than +California had their grievances. All over the country the family +of cyclops was growing. He would declare himself the champion of +the People in their opposition to the Trust. He would be an +apostle, a prophet, a martyr of Freedom. + +But Presley was essentially a dreamer, not a man of affairs. He +hesitated to act at this precise psychological moment, striking +while the iron was yet hot, and while he hesitated, other affairs +near at hand began to absorb his attention. + +One night, about an hour after he had gone to bed, he was +awakened by the sound of voices on the porch of the ranch house, +and, descending, found Mrs. Dyke there with Sidney. The ex- +engineer's mother was talking to Magnus and Harran, and crying as +she talked. It seemed that Dyke was missing. He had gone into +town early that afternoon with the wagon and team, and was to +have been home for supper. By now it was ten o'clock and there +was no news of him. Mrs. Dyke told how she first had gone to +Quien Sabe, intending to telephone from there to Bonneville, but +Annixter was in San Francisco, and in his absence the house was +locked up, and the over-seer, who had a duplicate key, was +himself in Bonneville. She had telegraphed three times from +Guadalajara to Bonneville for news of her son, but without +result. Then, at last, tortured with anxiety, she had gone to +Hooven's, taking Sidney with her, and had prevailed upon +"Bismarck" to hitch up and drive her across Los Muertos to the +Governor's, to beg him to telephone into Bonneville, to know what +had become of Dyke. + +While Harran rang up Central in town, Mrs. Dyke told Presley and +Magnus of the lamentable change in Dyke. + +"They have broken my son's spirit, Mr. Derrick," she said. "If +you were only there to see. Hour after hour, he sits on the +porch with his hands lying open in his lap, looking at them +without a word. He won't look me in the face any more, and he +don't sleep. Night after night, he has walked the floor until +morning. And he will go on that way for days together, very +silent, without a word, and sitting still in his chair, and then, +all of a sudden, he will break out--oh, Mr. Derrick, it is +terrible--into an awful rage, cursing, swearing, grinding his +teeth, his hands clenched over his head, stamping so that the +house shakes, and saying that if S. Behrman don't give him back +his money, he will kill him with his two hands. But that isn't +the worst, Mr. Derrick. He goes to Mr. Caraher's saloon now, and +stays there for hours, and listens to Mr. Caraher. There is +something on my son's mind; I know there is--something that he +and Mr. Caraher have talked over together, and I can't find out +what it is. Mr. Caraher is a bad man, and my son has fallen +under his influence." The tears filled her eyes. Bravely, she +turned to hide them, turning away to take Sidney in her arms, +putting her head upon the little girl's shoulder. + +"I--I haven't broken down before, Mr. Derrick," she said, "but +after we have been so happy in our little house, just us three-- +and the future seemed so bright--oh, God will punish the +gentlemen who own the railroad for being so hard and cruel." + +Harran came out on the porch, from the telephone, and she +interrupted herself, fixing her eyes eagerly upon him. + +"I think it is all right, Mrs. Dyke," he said, reassuringly. "We +know where he is, I believe. You and the little tad stay here, +and Hooven and I will go after him." + +About two hours later, Harran brought Dyke back to Los Muertos in +Hooven's wagon. He had found him at Caraher's saloon, very +drunk. + +There was nothing maudlin about Dyke's drunkenness. In him the +alcohol merely roused the spirit of evil, vengeful, reckless. + +As the wagon passed out from under the eucalyptus trees about the +ranch house, taking Mrs. Dyke, Sidney, and the one-time engineer +back to the hop ranch, Presley leaning from his window heard the +latter remark: + +"Caraher is right. There is only one thing they listen to, and +that's dynamite." + +The following day Presley drove Magnus over to Guadalajara to +take the train for San Francisco. But after he had said good-bye +to the Governor, he was moved to go on to the hop ranch to see +the condition of affairs in that quarter. He returned to Los +Muertos overwhelmed with sadness and trembling with anger. The +hop ranch that he had last seen in the full tide of prosperity +was almost a ruin. Work had evidently been abandoned long since. +Weeds were already choking the vines. Everywhere the poles +sagged and drooped. Many had even fallen, dragging the vines +with them, spreading them over the ground in an inextricable +tangle of dead leaves, decaying tendrils, and snarled string. +The fence was broken; the unfinished storehouse, which never was +to see completion, was a lamentable spectacle of gaping doors and +windows--a melancholy skeleton. Last of all, Presley had caught +a glimpse of Dyke himself, seated in his rocking chair on the +porch, his beard and hair unkempt, motionless, looking with vague +eyes upon his hands that lay palm upwards and idle in his lap. + +Magnus on his way to San Francisco was joined at Bonneville by +Osterman. Upon seating himself in front of the master of Los +Muertos in the smoking-car of the train, this latter, pushing +back his hat and smoothing his bald head, observed: + +"Governor, you look all frazeled out. Anything wrong these +days?" + +The other answered in the negative, but, for all that, Osterman +was right. The Governor had aged suddenly. His former erectness +was gone, the broad shoulders stooped a little, the strong lines +of his thin-lipped mouth were relaxed, and his hand, as it +clasped over the yellowed ivory knob of his cane, had an unwonted +tremulousness not hitherto noticeable. But the change in Magnus +was more than physical. At last, in the full tide of power, +President of the League, known and talked of in every county of +the State, leader in a great struggle, consulted, deferred to as +the "Prominent Man," at length attaining that position, so long +and vainly sought for, he yet found no pleasure in his triumph, +and little but bitterness in life. His success had come by +devious methods, had been reached by obscure means. + +He was a briber. He could never forget that. To further his +ends, disinterested, public-spirited, even philanthropic as those +were, he had connived with knavery, he, the politician of the old +school, of such rigorous integrity, who had abandoned a "career" +rather than compromise with honesty. At this eleventh hour, +involved and entrapped in the fine-spun web of a new order of +things, bewildered by Osterman's dexterity, by his volubility and +glibness, goaded and harassed beyond the point of reason by the +aggression of the Trust he fought, he had at last failed. He had +fallen he had given a bribe. He had thought that, after all, +this would make but little difference with him. The affair was +known only to Osterman, Broderson, and Annixter; they would not +judge him, being themselves involved. He could still preserve a +bold front; could still hold his head high. As time went on the +affair would lose its point. + +But this was not so. Some subtle element of his character had +forsaken him. He felt it. He knew it. Some certain stiffness +that had given him all his rigidity, that had lent force to his +authority, weight to his dominance, temper to his fine, +inflexible hardness, was diminishing day by day. In the +decisions which he, as President of the League, was called upon +to make so often, he now hesitated. He could no longer be +arrogant, masterful, acting upon his own judgment, independent of +opinion. He began to consult his lieutenants, asking their +advice, distrusting his own opinions. He made mistakes, +blunders, and when those were brought to his notice, took refuge +in bluster. He knew it to be bluster--knew that sooner or later +his subordinates would recognise it as such. How long could he +maintain his position? So only he could keep his grip upon the +lever of control till the battle was over, all would be well. If +not, he would fall, and, once fallen, he knew that now, briber +that he was, he would never rise again. + +He was on his way at this moment to the city to consult with +Lyman as to a certain issue of the contest between the Railroad +and the ranchers, which, of late, had been brought to his notice. + +When appeal had been taken to the Supreme Court by the League's +Executive Committee, certain test cases had been chosen, which +should represent all the lands in question. Neither Magnus nor +Annixter had so appealed, believing, of course, that their cases +were covered by the test cases on trial at Washington. Magnus +had here blundered again, and the League's agents in San +Francisco had written to warn him that the Railroad might be able +to take advantage of a technicality, and by pretending that +neither Quien Sabe nor Los Muertos were included in the appeal, +attempt to put its dummy buyers in possession of the two ranches +before the Supreme Court handed down its decision. The ninety +days allowed for taking this appeal were nearly at an end and +after then the Railroad could act. Osterman and Magnus at once +decided to go up to the city, there joining Annixter (who had +been absent from Quien Sabe for the last ten days), and talk the +matter over with Lyman. Lyman, because of his position as +Commissioner, might be cognisant of the Railroad's plans, and, at +the same time, could give sound legal advice as to what was to be +done should the new rumour prove true. + +"Say," remarked Osterman, as the train pulled out of the +Bonneville station, and the two men settled themselves for the +long journey, "say Governor, what's all up with Buck Annixter +these days? He's got a bean about something, sure." + +"I had not noticed," answered Magnus. "Mr. Annixter has been +away some time lately. I cannot imagine what should keep him so +long in San Francisco." + +"That's it," said Osterman, winking. "Have three guesses. Guess +right and you get a cigar. I guess g-i-r-l spells Hilma Tree. +And a little while ago she quit Quien Sabe and hiked out to +'Frisco. So did Buck. Do I draw the cigar? It's up to you." +"I have noticed her," observed Magnus. "A fine figure of a +woman. She would make some man a good wife." + +"Hoh! Wife! Buck Annixter marry! Not much. He's gone a- +girling at last, old Buck! It's as funny as twins. Have to josh +him about it when I see him, sure." + +But when Osterman and Magnus at last fell in with Annixter in the +vestibule of the Lick House, on Montgomery Street, nothing could +be got out of him. He was in an execrable humour. When Magnus +had broached the subject of business, he had declared that all +business could go to pot, and when Osterman, his tongue in his +cheek, had permitted himself a most distant allusion to a feemale +girl, Annixter had cursed him for a "busy-face" so vociferously +and tersely, that even Osterman was cowed. + +"Well," insinuated Osterman, "what are you dallying 'round +'Frisco so much for?" + +"Cat fur, to make kitten-breeches," retorted Annixter with +oracular vagueness. + +Two weeks before this time, Annixter had come up to the city and +had gone at once to a certain hotel on Bush Street, behind the +First National Bank, that he knew was kept by a family connection +of the Trees. In his conjecture that Hilma and her parents would +stop here, he was right. Their names were on the register. +Ignoring custom, Annixter marched straight up to their rooms, and +before he was well aware of it, was "eating crow" before old man +Tree. + +Hilma and her mother were out at the time. Later on, Mrs. Tree +returned alone, leaving Hilma to spend the day with one of her +cousins who lived far out on Stanyan Street in a little house +facing the park. + +Between Annixter and Hilma's parents, a reconciliation had been +effected, Annixter convincing them both of his sincerity in +wishing to make Hilma his wife. Hilma, however, refused to see +him. As soon as she knew he had followed her to San Francisco +she had been unwilling to return to the hotel and had arranged +with her cousin to spend an indefinite time at her house. + +She was wretchedly unhappy during all this time; would not set +foot out of doors, and cried herself to sleep night after night. +She detested the city. Already she was miserably homesick for +the ranch. She remembered the days she had spent in the little +dairy-house, happy in her work, making butter and cheese; +skimming the great pans of milk, scouring the copper vessels and +vats, plunging her arms, elbow deep, into the white curds; coming +and going in that atmosphere of freshness, cleanliness, and +sunlight, gay, singing, supremely happy just because the sun +shone. She remembered her long walks toward the Mission late in +the afternoons, her excursions for cresses underneath the Long +Trestle, the crowing of the cocks, the distant whistle of the +passing trains, the faint sounding of the Angelus. She recalled +with infinite longing the solitary expanse of the ranches, the +level reaches between the horizons, full of light and silence; +the heat at noon, the cloudless iridescence of the sunrise and +sunset. She had been so happy in that life! Now, all those days +were passed. This crude, raw city, with its crowding houses all +of wood and tin, its blotting fogs, its uproarious trade winds, +disturbed and saddened her. There was no outlook for the future. + +At length, one day, about a week after Annixter's arrival in the +city, she was prevailed upon to go for a walk in the park. She +went alone, putting on for the first time the little hat of black +straw with its puff of white silk her mother had bought for her, +a pink shirtwaist, her belt of imitation alligator skin, her new +skirt of brown cloth, and her low shoes, set off with their +little steel buckles. + +She found a tiny summer house, built in Japanese fashion, around +a diminutive pond, and sat there for a while, her hands folded in +her lap, amused with watching the goldfish, wishing--she knew not +what. + +Without any warning, Annixter sat down beside her. She was too +frightened to move. She looked at him with wide eyes that began +to fill with tears. + +"Oh," she said, at last, "oh--I didn't know." + +"Well," exclaimed Annixter, "here you are at last. I've been +watching that blamed house till I was afraid the policeman would +move me on. By the Lord," he suddenly cried, "you're pale. You-- +you, Hilma, do you feel well?" + +"Yes--I am well," she faltered. + +"No, you're not," he declared. "I know better. You are coming +back to Quien Sabe with me. This place don't agree with you. +Hilma, what's all the matter? Why haven't you let me see you all +this time? Do you know--how things are with me? Your mother +told you, didn't she? Do you know how sorry I am? Do you know +that I see now that I made the mistake of my life there, that +time, under the Long Trestle? I found it out the night after you +went away. I sat all night on a stone out on the ranch somewhere +and I don't know exactly what happened, but I've been a different +man since then. I see things all different now. Why, I've only +begun to live since then. I know what love means now, and +instead of being ashamed of it, I'm proud of it. If I never was +to see you again I would be glad I'd lived through that night, +just the same. I just woke up that night. I'd been absolutely +and completely selfish up to the moment I realised I really loved +you, and now, whether you'll let me marry you or not, I mean to +live--I don't know, in a different way. I've GOT to live +different. I--well--oh, I can't make you understand, but just +loving you has changed my life all around. It's made it easier +to do the straight, clean thing. I want to do it, it's fun doing +it. Remember, once I said I was proud of being a hard man, a +driver, of being glad that people hated me and were afraid of me? +Well, since I've loved you I'm ashamed of it all. I don't want +to be hard any more, and nobody is going to hate me if I can help +it. I'm happy and I want other people so. I love you," he +suddenly exclaimed; "I love you, and if you will forgive me, and +if you will come down to such a beast as I am, I want to be to +you the best a man can be to a woman, Hilma. Do you understand, +little girl? I want to be your husband." + +Hilma looked at the goldfishes through her tears. + +"Have you got anything to say to me, Hilma?" he asked, after a +while. + +"I don't know what you want me to say," she murmured. + +"Yes, you do," he insisted. "I've followed you 'way up here to +hear it. I've waited around in these beastly, draughty picnic +grounds for over a week to hear it. You know what I want to +hear, Hilma." + +"Well--I forgive you," she hazarded. + +"That will do for a starter," he answered. "But that's not IT." + +"Then, I don't know what." + +"Shall I say it for you?" + +She hesitated a long minute, then: + +"You mightn't say it right," she replied. + +"Trust me for that. Shall I say it for you, Hilma?" + +"I don't know what you'll say." + +"I'll say what you are thinking of. Shall I say it?" + +There was a very long pause. A goldfish rose to the surface of +the little pond, with a sharp, rippling sound. The fog drifted +overhead. There was nobody about. + +"No," said Hilma, at length. "I--I--I can say it for myself. I--" +All at once she turned to him and put her arms around his +neck. "Oh, DO you love me?" she cried. "Is it really true? Do +you mean every word of it? And you are sorry and you WILL be +good to me if I will be your wife? You will be my dear, dear +husband?" + +The tears sprang to Annixter's eyes. He took her in his arms and +held her there for a moment. Never in his life had he felt so +unworthy, so undeserving of this clean, pure girl who forgave him +and trusted his spoken word and believed him to be the good man +he could only wish to be. She was so far above him, so exalted, +so noble that he should have bowed his forehead to her feet, and +instead, she took him in her arms, believing him to be good, to +be her equal. He could think of no words to say. The tears +overflowed his eyes and ran down upon his cheeks. She drew away +from him and held him a second at arm's length, looking at him, +and he saw that she, too, had been crying. + +"I think," he said, "we are a couple of softies." + +"No, no," she insisted. "I want to cry and want you to cry, too. +Oh, dear, I haven't a handkerchief." + +"Here, take mine." + +They wiped each other's eyes like two children and for a long +time sat in the deserted little Japanese pleasure house, their +arms about each other, talking, talking, talking. + +On the following Saturday they were married in an uptown +Presbyterian church, and spent the week of their honeymoon at a +small, family hotel on Sutter Street. As a matter of course, +they saw the sights of the city together. They made the +inevitable bridal trip to the Cliff House and spent an afternoon +in the grewsome and made-to-order beauties of Sutro's Gardens; +they went through Chinatown, the Palace Hotel, the park museum-- +where Hilma resolutely refused to believe in the Egyptian mummy-- +and they drove out in a hired hack to the Presidio and the Golden +Gate. + +On the sixth day of their excursions, Hilma abruptly declared +they had had enough of "playing out," and must be serious and get +to work. + +This work was nothing less than the buying of the furniture and +appointments for the rejuvenated ranch house at Quien Sabe, where +they were to live. Annixter had telegraphed to his overseer to +have the building repainted, replastered, and reshingled and to +empty the rooms of everything but the telephone and safe. He +also sent instructions to have the dimensions of each room noted +down and the result forwarded to him. It was the arrival of +these memoranda that had roused Hilma to action. + +Then ensued a most delicious week. Armed with formidable lists, +written by Annixter on hotel envelopes, they two descended upon +the department stores of the city, the carpet stores, the +furniture stores. Right and left they bought and bargained, +sending each consignment as soon as purchased to Quien Sabe. +Nearly an entire car load of carpets, curtains, kitchen +furniture, pictures, fixtures, lamps, straw matting, chairs, and +the like were sent down to the ranch, Annixter making a point +that their new home should be entirely equipped by San Francisco +dealers. + +The furnishings of the bedroom and sitting-room were left to the +very last. For the former, Hilma bought a "set" of pure white +enamel, three chairs, a washstand and bureau, a marvellous +bargain of thirty dollars, discovered by wonderful accident at a +"Friday Sale." The bed was a piece by itself, bought elsewhere, +but none the less a wonder. It was of brass, very brave and gay, +and actually boasted a canopy! They bought it complete, just as +it stood in the window of the department store and Hilma was in +an ecstasy over its crisp, clean, muslin curtains, spread, and +shams. Never was there such a bed, the luxury of a princess, +such a bed as she had dreamed about her whole life. + +Next the appointments of the sitting-room occupied her--since +Annixter, himself, bewildered by this astonishing display, unable +to offer a single suggestion himself, merely approved of all she +bought. In the sitting-room was to be a beautiful blue and white +paper, cool straw matting, set off with white wool rugs, a stand +of flowers in the window, a globe of goldfish, rocking chairs, a +sewing machine, and a great, round centre table of yellow oak +whereon should stand a lamp covered with a deep shade of crinkly +red tissue paper. On the walls were to hang several pictures-- +lovely affairs, photographs from life, all properly tinted--of +choir boys in robes, with beautiful eyes; pensive young girls in +pink gowns, with flowing yellow hair, drooping over golden harps; +a coloured reproduction of "Rouget de Lisle, Singing the +Marseillaise," and two "pieces" of wood carving, representing a +quail and a wild duck, hung by one leg in the midst of game bags +and powder horns,--quite masterpieces, both. + +At last everything had been bought, all arrangements made, +Hilma's trunks packed with her new dresses, and the tickets to +Bonneville bought. + +"We'll go by the Overland, by Jingo," declared Annixter across +the table to his wife, at their last meal in the hotel where they +had been stopping; "no way trains or locals for us, hey?" + +"But we reach Bonneville at SUCH an hour," protested Hilma. +"Five in the morning!" + +"Never mind," he declared, "we'll go home in PULLMAN'S, Hilma. +I'm not going to have any of those slobs in Bonneville say I +didn't know how to do the thing in style, and we'll have Vacca +meet us with the team. No, sir, it is Pullman's or nothing. +When it comes to buying furniture, I don't shine, perhaps, but I +know what's due my wife." + +He was obdurate, and late one afternoon the couple boarded the +Transcontinental (the crack Overland Flyer of the Pacific and +Southwestern) at the Oakland mole. Only Hilma's parents were +there to say good-bye. Annixter knew that Magnus and Osterman +were in the city, but he had laid his plans to elude them. +Magnus, he could trust to be dignified, but that goat Osterman, +one could never tell what he would do next. He did not propose +to start his journey home in a shower of rice. +Annixter marched down the line of cars, his hands encumbered with +wicker telescope baskets, satchels, and valises, his tickets in +his mouth, his hat on wrong side foremost, Hilma and her parents +hurrying on behind him, trying to keep up. Annixter was in a +turmoil of nerves lest something should go wrong; catching a +train was always for him a little crisis. He rushed ahead so +furiously that when he had found his Pullman he had lost his +party. He set down his valises to mark the place and charged +back along the platform, waving his arms. + +"Come on," he cried, when, at length, he espied the others. +"We've no more time." + +He shouldered and urged them forward to where he had set his +valises, only to find one of them gone. Instantly he raised an +outcry. Aha, a fine way to treat passengers! There was P. and +S. W. management for you. He would, by the Lord, he would--but +the porter appeared in the vestibule of the car to placate him. +He had already taken his valises inside. + +Annixter would not permit Hilma's parents to board the car, +declaring that the train might pull out any moment. So he and +his wife, following the porter down the narrow passage by the +stateroom, took their places and, raising the window, leaned out +to say good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Tree. These latter would not +return to Quien Sabe. Old man Tree had found a business chance +awaiting him in the matter of supplying his relative's hotel with +dairy products. But Bonneville was not too far from San +Francisco; the separation was by no means final. + +The porters began taking up the steps that stood by the vestibule +of each sleeping-car. + +"Well, have a good time, daughter," observed her father; "and +come up to see us whenever you can." + +From beyond the enclosure of the depot's reverberating roof came +the measured clang of a bell. + +"I guess we're off," cried Annixter. "Good-bye, Mrs. Tree." + +"Remember your promise, Hilma," her mother hastened to exclaim, +"to write every Sunday afternoon." + +There came a prolonged creaking and groan of straining wood and +iron work, all along the length of the train. They all began to +cry their good-byes at once. The train stirred, moved forward, +and gathering slow headway, rolled slowly out into the sunlight. +Hilma leaned out of the window and as long as she could keep her +mother in sight waved her handkerchief. Then at length she sat +back in her seat and looked at her husband. + +"Well," she said. + +"Well," echoed Annixter, "happy?" for the tears rose in her eyes. + +She nodded energetically, smiling at him bravely. + +"You look a little pale," he declared, frowning uneasily; "feel +well?" + +"Pretty well." + +Promptly he was seized with uneasiness. +"But not ALL well, hey? Is that it?" + +It was true that Hilma had felt a faint tremour of seasickness on +the ferry-boat coming from the city to the Oakland mole. No +doubt a little nausea yet remained with her. But Annixter +refused to accept this explanation. He was distressed beyond +expression. + +"Now you're going to be sick," he cried anxiously. + +"No, no," she protested, "not a bit." + +"But you said you didn't feel very well. Where is it you feel +sick?" + +"I don't know. I'm not sick. Oh, dear me, why will you bother?" + +"Headache?" + +"Not the least." + +"You feel tired, then. That's it. No wonder, the way rushed you +'round to-day." + +"Dear, I'm NOT tired, and I'm NOT sick, and I'm all RIGHT." + +"No, no; I can tell. I think we'd best have the berth made up +and you lie down." + +"That would be perfectly ridiculous." + +"Well, where is it you feel sick? Show me; put your hand on the +place. Want to eat something?" + +With elaborate minuteness, he cross-questioned her, refusing to +let the subject drop, protesting that she had dark circles under +her eyes; that she had grown thinner. + +"Wonder if there's a doctor on board," he murmured, looking +uncertainly about the car. "Let me see your tongue. I know--a +little whiskey is what you want, that and some pru----" + +"No, no, NO," she exclaimed. "I'm as well as I ever was in all +my life. Look at me. Now, tell me, do l look likee a sick +lady?" + +He scrutinised her face distressfully. + +"Now, don't I look the picture of health?" she challenged. + +"In a way you do," he began, "and then again----" + +Hilma beat a tattoo with her heels upon the floor, shutting her +fists, the thumbs tucked inside. She closed her eyes, shaking +her head energetically. + +"I won't listen, I won't listen, I won't listen," she cried. + +"But, just the same----" + +"Gibble--gibble--gibble," she mocked. "I won't Listen, I won't +listen." She put a hand over his mouth. "Look, here's the +dining-car waiter, and the first call for supper, and your wife +is hungry." + +They went forward and had supper in the diner, while the long +train, now out upon the main line, settled itself to its pace, +the prolonged, even gallop that it would hold for the better part +of the week, spinning out the miles as a cotton spinner spins +thread. + +It was already dark when Antioch was left behind. Abruptly the +sunset appeared to wheel in the sky and readjusted itself to the +right of the track behind Mount Diablo, here visible almost to +its base. The train had turned southward. Neroly was passed, +then Brentwood, then Byron. In the gathering dusk, mountains +began to build themselves up on either hand, far off, blocking +the horizon. The train shot forward, roaring. Between the +mountains the land lay level, cut up into farms, ranches. These +continually grew larger; growing wheat began to appear, billowing +in the wind of the train's passage. The mountains grew higher, +the land richer, and by the time the moon rose, the train was +well into the northernmost limits of the valley of the San +Joaquin. + +Annixter had engaged an entire section, and after he and his wife +went to bed had the porter close the upper berth. Hilma sat up +in bed to say her prayers, both hands over her face, and then +kissing Annixter good-night, went to sleep with the directness of +a little child, holding his hand in both her own. + +Annixter, who never could sleep on the train, dozed and tossed +and fretted for hours, consulting his watch and time-table +whenever there was a stop; twice he rose to get a drink of ice +water, and between whiles was forever sitting up in the narrow +berth, stretching himself and yawning, murmuring with uncertain +relevance: + +"Oh, Lord! Oh-h-h LORD!" + +There were some dozen other passengers in the car--a lady with +three children, a group of school-teachers, a couple of drummers, +a stout gentleman with whiskers, and a well-dressed young man in +a plaid travelling cap, whom Annixter had observed before supper +time reading Daudet's "Tartarin" in the French. + +But by nine o'clock, all these people were in their berths. +Occasionally, above the rhythmic rumble of the wheels, Annixter +could hear one of the lady's children fidgeting and complaining. +The stout gentleman snored monotonously in two notes, one a +rasping bass, the other a prolonged treble. At intervals, a +brakeman or the passenger conductor pushed down the aisle, +between the curtains, his red and white lamp over his arm. +Looking out into the car Annixter saw in an end section where the +berths had not been made up, the porter, in his white duck coat, +dozing, his mouth wide open, his head on his shoulder. + +The hours passed. Midnight came and went. Annixter, checking +off the stations, noted their passage of Modesto, Merced, and +Madeira. Then, after another broken nap, he lost count. He +wondered where they were. Had they reached Fresno yet? Raising +the window curtain, he made a shade with both hands on either +side of his face and looked out. The night was thick, dark, +clouded over. A fine rain was falling, leaving horizontal +streaks on the glass of the outside window. Only the faintest +grey blur indicated the sky. Everything else was impenetrable +blackness. + +"I think sure we must have passed Fresno," he muttered. He +looked at his watch. It was about half-past three. "If we have +passed Fresno," he said to himself, "I'd better wake the little +girl pretty soon. She'll need about an hour to dress. Better +find out for sure." + +He drew on his trousers and shoes, got into his coat, and stepped +out into the aisle. In the seat that had been occupied by the +porter, the Pullman conductor, his cash box and car-schedules +before him, was checking up his berths, a blue pencil behind his +ear. + +"What's the next stop, Captain?" inquired Annixter, coming up. +"Have we reached Fresno yet?" + +"Just passed it," the other responded, looking at Annixter over +his spectacles. + +"What's the next stop?" + +"Goshen. We will be there in about forty-five minutes." + +"Fair black night, isn't it?" + +"Black as a pocket. Let's see, you're the party in upper and +lower 9." + +Annixter caught at the back of the nearest seat, just in time to +prevent a fall, and the conductor's cash box was shunted off the +surface of the plush seat and came clanking to the floor. The +Pintsch lights overhead vibrated with blinding rapidity in the +long, sliding jar that ran through the train from end to end, and +the momentum of its speed suddenly decreasing, all but pitched +the conductor from his seat. A hideous ear-splitting rasp made +itself heard from the clamped-down Westinghouse gear underneath, +and Annixter knew that the wheels had ceased to revolve and that +the train was sliding forward upon the motionless flanges. + +"Hello, hello," he exclaimed, "what's all up now?" + +"Emergency brakes," declared the conductor, catching up his cash +box and thrusting his papers and tickets into it. "Nothing much; +probably a cow on the track." + +He disappeared, carrying his lantern with him. + +But the other passengers, all but the stout gentleman, were +awake; heads were thrust from out the curtains, and Annixter, +hurrying back to Hilma, was assailed by all manner of questions. + +"What was that?" + +"Anything wrong?" + +"What's up, anyways?" + +Hilma was just waking as Annixter pushed the curtain aside. + +"Oh, I was so frightened. What's the matter, dear?" she +exclaimed. + +"I don't know," he answered. "Only the emergency brakes. Just a +cow on the track, I guess. Don't get scared. It isn't +anything." + +But with a final shriek of the Westinghouse appliance, the train +came to a definite halt. + +At once the silence was absolute. The ears, still numb with the +long-continued roar of wheels and clashing iron, at first refused +to register correctly the smaller noises of the surroundings. +Voices came from the other end of the car, strange and +unfamiliar, as though heard at a great distance across the water. +The stillness of the night outside was so profound that the rain, +dripping from the car roof upon the road-bed underneath, was as +distinct as the ticking of a clock. + +"Well, we've sure stopped," observed one of the drummers. + +"What is it?" asked Hilma again. "Are you sure there's nothing +wrong?" + +"Sure," said Annixter. +Outside, underneath their window, they heard the sound of hurried +footsteps crushing into the clinkers by the side of the ties. +They passed on, and Annixter heard some one in the distance +shout: + +"Yes, on the other side." + +Then the door at the end of their car opened and a brakeman with +a red beard ran down the aisle and out upon the platform in +front. The forward door closed. Everything was quiet again. In +the stillness the fat gentleman's snores made themselves heard +once more. + +The minutes passed; nothing stirred. There was no sound but the +dripping rain. The line of cars lay immobilised and inert under +the night. One of the drummers, having stepped outside on the +platform for a look around, returned, saying: + +"There sure isn't any station anywheres about and no siding. Bet +you they have had an accident of some kind." + +"Ask the porter." + +"I did. He don't know." + +"Maybe they stopped to take on wood or water, or something." + +"Well, they wouldn't use the emergency brakes for that, would +they? Why, this train stopped almost in her own length. Pretty +near slung me out the berth. Those were the emergency brakes. I +heard some one say so." + +From far out towards the front of the train, near the locomotive, +came the sharp, incisive report of a revolver; then two more +almost simultaneously; then, after a long interval, a fourth. + +"Say, that's SHOOTING. By God, boys, they're shooting. Say, +this is a hold-up." + +Instantly a white-hot excitement flared from end to end of the +car. Incredibly sinister, heard thus in the night, and in the +rain, mysterious, fearful, those four pistol shots started +confusion from out the sense of security like a frightened rabbit +hunted from her burrow. Wide-eyed, the passengers of the car +looked into each other's faces. It had come to them at last, +this, they had so often read about. Now they were to see the +real thing, now they were to face actuality, face this danger of +the night, leaping in from out the blackness of the roadside, +masked, armed, ready to kill. They were facing it now. They +were held up. + +Hilma said nothing, only catching Annixter's hand, looking +squarely into his eyes. + +"Steady, little girl," he said. "They can't hurt you. I won't +leave you. By the Lord," he suddenly exclaimed, his excitement +getting the better of him for a moment. "By the Lord, it's a +hold-up." + +The school-teachers were in the aisle of the car, in night gown, +wrapper, and dressing sack, huddled together like sheep, holding +on to each other, looking to the men, silently appealing for +protection. Two of them were weeping, white to the lips. + +"Oh, oh, oh, it's terrible. Oh, if they only won't hurt me." + +But the lady with the children looked out from her berth, smiled +reassuringly, and said: + +"I'm not a bit frightened. They won't do anything to us if we +keep quiet. I've my watch and jewelry all ready for them in my +little black bag, see?" + +She exhibited it to the passengers. Her children were all awake. +They were quiet, looking about them with eager faces, interested +and amused at this surprise. In his berth, the fat gentleman +with whiskers snored profoundly. + +"Say, I'm going out there," suddenly declared one of the +drummers, flourishing a pocket revolver. + +His friend caught his arm. + +"Don't make a fool of yourself, Max," he said. + +"They won't come near us," observed the well-dressed young man; +"they are after the Wells-Fargo box and the registered mail. You +won't do any good out there." + +But the other loudly protested. No; he was going out. He didn't +propose to be buncoed without a fight. He wasn't any coward. + +"Well, you don't go, that's all," said his friend, angrily. +"There's women and children in this car. You ain't going to draw +the fire here." + +"Well, that's to be thought of," said the other, allowing himself +to be pacified, but still holding his pistol. + +"Don't let him open that window," cried Annixter sharply from his +place by Hilma's side, for the drummer had made as if to open the +sash in one of the sections that had not been made up. + +"Sure, that's right," said the others. "Don't open any windows. +Keep your head in. You'll get us all shot if you aren't +careful." + +However, the drummer had got the window up and had leaned out +before the others could interfere and draw him away. + +"Say, by jove," he shouted, as he turned back to the car, "our +engine's gone. We're standing on a curve and you can see the end +of the train. She's gone, I tell you. Well, look for yourself." + +In spite of their precautions, one after another, his friends +looked out. Sure enough, the train was without a locomotive. + +"They've done it so we can't get away," vociferated the drummer +with the pistol. "Now, by jiminy-Christmas, they'll come through +the cars and stand us up. They'll be in here in a minute. LORD! +WHAT WAS THAT?" + +From far away up the track, apparently some half-mile ahead of +the train, came the sound of a heavy explosion. The windows of +the car vibrated with it. + +"Shooting again." + +"That isn't shooting," exclaimed Annixter. "They've pulled the +express and mail car on ahead with the engine and now they are +dynamiting her open." + +"That must be it. Yes, sure, that's just what they are doing." + +The forward door of the car opened and closed and the school- +teachers shrieked and cowered. The drummer with the revolver +faced about, his eyes bulging. However, it was only the train +conductor, hatless, his lantern in his hand. He was soaked with +rain. He appeared in the aisle. + +"Is there a doctor in this car?" he asked. + +Promptly the passengers surrounded him, voluble with questions. +But he was in a bad temper. + +"I don't know anything more than you," he shouted angrily. "It +was a hold-up. I guess you know that, don't you? Well, what +more do you want to know? I ain't got time to fool around. They +cut off our express car and have cracked it open, and they shot +one of our train crew, that's all, and I want a doctor." + +"Did they shoot him--kill him, do you mean?" + +"Is he hurt bad?" + +"Did the men get away?" + +"Oh, shut up, will you all?" exclaimed the conductor. + +"What do I know? Is there a DOCTOR in this car, that's what I +want to know?" + +The well-dressed young man stepped forward. + +"I'm a doctor," he said. +"Well, come along then," returned the conductor, in a surly +voice, "and the passengers in this car," he added, turning back +at the door and nodding his head menacingly, "will go back to bed +and STAY there. It's all over and there's nothing to see." + +He went out, followed by the young doctor. + +Then ensued an interminable period of silence. The entire train +seemed deserted. Helpless, bereft of its engine, a huge, +decapitated monster it lay, half-way around a curve, rained upon, +abandoned. + +There was more fear in this last condition of affairs, more +terror in the idea of this prolonged line of sleepers, with their +nickelled fittings, their plate glass, their upholstery, +vestibules, and the like, loaded down with people, lost and +forgotten in the night and the rain, than there had been when the +actual danger threatened. + +What was to become of them now? Who was there to help them? +Their engine was gone; they were helpless. What next was to +happen? + +Nobody came near the car. Even the porter had disappeared. The +wait seemed endless, and the persistent snoring of the whiskered +gentleman rasped the nerves like the scrape of a file. + +"Well, how long are we going to stick here now?" began one of the +drummers. "Wonder if they hurt the engine with their dynamite?" + +"Oh, I know they will come through the car and rob us," wailed +the school-teachers. + +The lady with the little children went back to bed, and Annixter, +assured that the trouble was over, did likewise. But nobody +slept. From berth to berth came the sound of suppressed voices +talking it all over, formulating conjectures. Certain points +seemed to be settled upon, no one knew how, as indisputable. The +highwaymen had been four in number and had stopped the train by +pulling the bell cord. A brakeman had attempted to interfere and +had been shot. The robbers had been on the train all the way +from San Francisco. The drummer named Max remembered to have +seen four "suspicious-looking characters" in the smoking-car at +Lathrop, and had intended to speak to the conductor about them. +This drummer had been in a hold-up before, and told the story of +it over and over again. + +At last, after what seemed to have been an hour's delay, and when +the dawn had already begun to show in the east, the locomotive +backed on to the train again with a reverberating jar that ran +from car to car. At the jolting, the school-teachers screamed in +chorus, and the whiskered gentleman stopped snoring and thrust +his head from his curtains, blinking at the Pintsch lights. It +appeared that he was an Englishman. + +"I say," he asked of the drummer named Max, "I say, my friend, +what place is this?" + +The others roared with derision. + +"We were HELD UP, sir, that's what we were. We were held up and +you slept through it all. You missed the show of your life." + +The gentleman fixed the group with a prolonged gaze. He said +never a word, but little by little he was convinced that the +drummers told the truth. All at once he grew wrathful, his face +purpling. He withdrew his head angrily, buttoning his curtains +together in a fury. The cause of his rage was inexplicable, but +they could hear him resettling himself upon his pillows with +exasperated movements of his head and shoulders. In a few +moments the deep bass and shrill treble of his snoring once more +sounded through the car. + +At last the train got under way again, with useless warning +blasts of the engine's whistle. In a few moments it was tearing +away through the dawn at a wonderful speed, rocking around +curves, roaring across culverts, making up time. + +And all the rest of that strange night the passengers, sitting up +in their unmade beds, in the swaying car, lighted by a strange +mingling of pallid dawn and trembling Pintsch lights, rushing at +break-neck speed through the misty rain, were oppressed by a +vision of figures of terror, far behind them in the night they +had left, masked, armed, galloping toward the mountains pistol in +hand, the booty bound to the saddle bow, galloping, galloping on, +sending a thrill of fear through all the country side. + +The young doctor returned. He sat down in the smoking-room, +lighting a cigarette, and Annixter and the drummers pressed +around him to know the story of the whole affair. + +"The man is dead," he declared, "the brakeman. He was shot +through the lungs twice. They think the fellow got away with +about five thousand in gold coin." + +"The fellow? Wasn't there four of them?" + +"No; only one. And say, let me tell you, he had his nerve with +him. It seems he was on the roof of the express car all the +time, and going as fast as we were, he jumped from the roof of +the car down on to the coal on the engine's tender, and crawled +over that and held up the men in the cab with his gun, took their +guns from 'em and made 'em stop the train. Even ordered 'em to +use the emergency gear, seems he knew all about it. Then he went +back and uncoupled the express car himself. + +While he was doing this, a brakeman--you remember that brakeman +that came through here once or twice--had a red mustache." + +"THAT chap?" +"Sure. Well, as soon as the train stopped, this brakeman guessed +something was wrong and ran up, saw the fellow cutting off the +express car and took a couple of shots at him, and the fireman +says the fellow didn't even take his hand off the coupling-pin; +just turned around as cool as how-do-you-do and NAILED the +brakeman right there. They weren't five feet apart when they +began shooting. The brakeman had come on him unexpected, had no +idea he was so close." + +"And the express messenger, all this time?" + +"Well, he did his best. Jumped out with his repeating shot-gun, +but the fellow had him covered before he could turn round. Held +him up and took his gun away from him. Say, you know I call that +nerve, just the same. One man standing up a whole train-load, +like that. Then, as soon as he'd cut the express car off, he +made the engineer run her up the track about half a mile to a +road crossing, WHERE HE HAD A HORSE TIED. What do you think of +that? Didn't he have it all figured out close? And when he got +there, he dynamited the safe and got the Wells-Fargo box. He +took five thousand in gold coin; the messenger says it was +railroad money that the company were sending down to Bakersfield +to pay off with. It was in a bag. He never touched the +registered mail, nor a whole wad of greenbacks that were in the +safe, but just took the coin, got on his horse, and lit out. The +engineer says he went to the east'ard." + +"He got away, did he?" + +"Yes, but they think they'll get him. He wore a kind of mask, +but the brakeman recognised him positively. We got his ante- +mortem statement. The brakeman said the fellow had a grudge +against the road. He was a discharged employee, and lives near +Bonneville." + +"Dyke, by the Lord!" exclaimed Annixter. + +"That's the name," said the young doctor. + +When the train arrived at Bonneville, forty minutes behind time, +it landed Annixter and Hilma in the midst of the very thing they +most wished to avoid--an enormous crowd. The news that the +Overland had been held up thirty miles south of Fresno, a +brakeman killed and the safe looted, and that Dyke alone was +responsible for the night's work, had been wired on ahead from +Fowler, the train conductor throwing the despatch to the station +agent from the flying train. + +Before the train had come to a standstill under the arched roof +of the Bonneville depot, it was all but taken by assault. +Annixter, with Hilma on his arm, had almost to fight his way out +of the car. The depot was black with people. S. Behrman was +there, Delaney, Cyrus Ruggles, the town marshal, the mayor. +Genslinger, his hat on the back of his head, ranged the train +from cab to rear-lights, note-book in hand, interviewing, +questioning, collecting facts for his extra. As Annixter +descended finally to the platform, the editor, alert as a black- +and-tan terrier, his thin, osseous hands quivering with +eagerness, his brown, dry face working with excitement, caught +his elbow. + +"Can I have your version of the affair, Mr. Annixter?" + +Annixter turned on him abruptly. + +"Yes!" he exclaimed fiercely. "You and your gang drove Dyke from +his job because he wouldn't work for starvation wages. Then you +raised freight rates on him and robbed him of all he had. You +ruined him and drove him to fill himself up with Caraher's +whiskey. He's only taken back what you plundered him of, and now +you're going to hound him over the State, hunt him down like a +wild animal, and bring him to the gallows at San Quentin. That's +my version of the affair, Mister Genslinger, but it's worth your +subsidy from the P. and S. W. to print it." + +There was a murmur of approval from the crowd that stood around, +and Genslinger, with an angry shrug of one shoulder, took himself +away. + +At length, Annixter brought Hilma through the crowd to where +young Vacca was waiting with the team. However, they could not +at once start for the ranch, Annixter wishing to ask some +questions at the freight office about a final consignment of +chairs. It was nearly eleven o'clock before they could start +home. But to gain the Upper Road to Quien Sabe, it was necessary +to traverse all of Main Street, running through the heart of +Bonneville. + +The entire town seemed to be upon the sidewalks. By now the rain +was over and the sun shining. The story of the hold-up--the work +of a man whom every one knew and liked--was in every mouth. How +had Dyke come to do it? Who would have believed it of him? +Think of his poor mother and the little tad. Well, after all, he +was not so much to blame; the railroad people had brought it on +themselves. But he had shot a man to death. Ah, that was a +serious business. Good-natured, big, broad-shouldered, jovial +Dyke, the man they knew, with whom they had shaken hands only +yesterday, yes, and drank with him. He had shot a man, killed +him, had stood there in the dark and in the rain while they were +asleep in their beds, and had killed a man. Now where was he? +Instinctively eyes were turned eastward, over the tops of the +houses, or down vistas of side streets to where the foot-hills of +the mountains rose dim and vast over the edge of the valley. He +was in amongst them; somewhere, in all that pile of blue crests +and purple canyons he was hidden away. Now for weeks of +searching, false alarms, clews, trailings, watchings, all the +thrill and heart-bursting excitement of a man-hunt. Would he get +away? Hardly a man on the sidewalks of the town that day who did +not hope for it. + +As Annixter's team trotted through the central portion of the +town, young Vacca pointed to a denser and larger crowd around the +rear entrance of the City Hall. Fully twenty saddle horses were +tied to the iron rail underneath the scant, half-grown trees near +by, and as Annixter and Hilma drove by, the crowd parted and a +dozen men with revolvers on their hips pushed their way to the +curbstone, and, mounting their horses, rode away at a gallop. + +"It's the posse," said young Vacca. + +Outside the town limits the ground was level. There was nothing +to obstruct the view, and to the north, in the direction of +Osterman's ranch, Vacca made out another party of horsemen, +galloping eastward, and beyond these still another. + +"There're the other posses," he announced. "That further one is +Archie Moore's. He's the sheriff. He came down from Visalia on +a special engine this morning." + +When the team turned into the driveway to the ranch house, Hilma +uttered a little cry, clasping her hands joyfully. The house was +one glitter of new white paint, the driveway had been freshly +gravelled, the flower-beds replenished. Mrs. Vacca and her +daughter, who had been busy putting on the finishing touches, +came to the door to welcome them. + +"What's this case here?" asked Annixter, when, after helping his +wife from the carry-all, his eye fell upon a wooden box of some +three by five feet that stood on the porch and bore the red +Wells-Fargo label. + +"It came here last night, addressed to you, sir," exclaimed Mrs. +Vacca. "We were sure it wasn't any of your furniture, so we +didn't open it." + +"Oh, maybe it's a wedding present," exclaimed Hilma, her eyes +sparkling. + +"Well, maybe it is," returned her husband. "Here, m' son, help +me in with this." + +Annixter and young Vacca bore the case into the sitting-room of +the house, and Annixter, hammer in hand, attacked it vigorously. +Vacca discreetly withdrew on signal from his mother, closing the +door after him. Annixter and his wife were left alone. + +"Oh, hurry, hurry," cried Hilma, dancing around him. + +"I want to see what it is. Who do you suppose could have sent it +to us? And so heavy, too. What do you think it can be?" + +Annixter put the claw of the hammer underneath the edge of the +board top and wrenched with all his might. The boards had been +clamped together by a transverse bar and the whole top of the box +came away in one piece. A layer of excelsior was disclosed, and +on it a letter addressed by typewriter to Annixter. It bore the +trade-mark of a business firm of Los Angeles. Annixter glanced +at this and promptly caught it up before Hilma could see, with an +exclamation of intelligence. + +"Oh, I know what this is," he observed, carelessly trying to +restrain her busy hands. "It isn't anything. Just some +machinery. Let it go." +But already she had pulled away the excelsior. Underneath, in +temporary racks, were two dozen Winchester repeating rifles. + +"Why--what--what--" murmured Hilma blankly. + +"Well, I told you not to mind," said Annixter. "It isn't +anything. Let's look through the rooms." + +"But you said you knew what it was," she protested, bewildered. +"You wanted to make believe it was machinery. Are you keeping +anything from me? Tell me what it all means. Oh, why are you +getting--these?" + +She caught his arm, looking with intense eagerness into his face. +She half understood already. Annixter saw that. + +"Well," he said, lamely, "YOU know--it may not come to anything +at all, but you know--well, this League of ours--suppose the +Railroad tries to jump Quien Sabe or Los Muertos or any of the +other ranches--we made up our minds--the Leaguers have--that we +wouldn't let it. That's all." + +"And I thought," cried Hilma, drawing back fearfully from the +case of rifles, "and I thought it was a wedding present." + +And that was their home-coming, the end of their bridal trip. +Through the terror of the night, echoing with pistol shots, +through that scene of robbery and murder, into this atmosphere of +alarms, a man-hunt organising, armed horsemen silhouetted against +the horizons, cases of rifles where wedding presents should have +been, Annixter brought his young wife to be mistress of a home he +might at any moment be called upon to defend with his life. + +The days passed. Soon a week had gone by. Magnus Derrick and +Osterman returned from the city without any definite idea as to +the Corporation's plans. Lyman had been reticent. He knew +nothing as to the progress of the land cases in Washington. +There was no news. The Executive Committee of the League held a +perfunctory meeting at Los Muertos at which nothing but routine +business was transacted. A scheme put forward by Osterman for a +conference with the railroad managers fell through because of the +refusal of the company to treat with the ranchers upon any other +basis than that of the new grading. It was impossible to learn +whether or not the company considered Los Muertos, Quien Sabe, +and the ranches around Bonneville covered by the test cases then +on appeal. + +Meanwhile there was no decrease in the excitement that Dyke's +hold-up had set loose over all the county. Day after day it was +the one topic of conversation, at street corners, at cross-roads, +over dinner tables, in office, bank, and store. S. Behrman +placarded the town with a notice of $500.00 reward for the ex- +engineer's capture, dead or alive, and the express company +supplemented this by another offer of an equal amount. The +country was thick with parties of horsemen, armed with rifles and +revolvers, recruited from Visalia, Goshen, and the few railroad +sympathisers around Bonneville and Guadlajara. One after another +of these returned, empty-handed, covered with dust and mud, their +horses exhausted, to be met and passed by fresh posses starting +out to continue the pursuit. The sheriff of Santa Clara County +sent down his bloodhounds from San Jose--small, harmless-looking +dogs, with a terrific bay--to help in the chase. Reporters from +the San Francisco papers appeared, interviewing every one, +sometimes even accompanying the searching bands. Horse hoofs +clattered over the roads at night; bells were rung, the "Mercury" +issued extra after extra; the bloodhounds bayed, gun butts +clashed on the asphalt pavements of Bonneville; accidental +discharges of revolvers brought the whole town into the street; +farm hands called to each other across the fences of ranch- +divisions--in a word, the country-side was in an uproar. + +And all to no effect. The hoof-marks of Dyke's horse had been +traced in the mud of the road to within a quarter of a mile of +the foot-hills and there irretrievably lost. Three days after +the hold-up, a sheep-herder was found who had seen the highwayman +on a ridge in the higher mountains, to the northeast of Taurusa. +And that was absolutely all. Rumours were thick, promising clews +were discovered, new trails taken up, but nothing transpired to +bring the pursuers and pursued any closer together. Then, after +ten days of strain, public interest began to flag. It was +believed that Dyke had succeeded in getting away. If this was +true, he had gone to the southward, after gaining the mountains, +and it would be his intention to work out of the range somewhere +near the southern part of the San Joaquin, near Bakersfield. +Thus, the sheriffs, marshals, and deputies decided. They had +hunted too many criminals in these mountains before not to know +the usual courses taken. In time, Dyke MUST come out of the +mountains to get water and provisions. But this time passed, and +from not one of the watched points came any word of his +appearance. At last the posses began to disband. Little by +little the pursuit was given up. + +Only S. Behrman persisted. He had made up his mind to bring Dyke +in. He succeeded in arousing the same degree of determination in +Delaney--by now, a trusted aide of the Railroad--and of his own +cousin, a real estate broker, named Christian, who knew the +mountains and had once been marshal of Visalia in the old stock- +raising days. These two went into the Sierras, accompanied by +two hired deputies, and carrying with them a month's provisions +and two of the bloodhounds loaned by the Santa Clara sheriff. + +On a certain Sunday, a few days after the departure of Christian +and Delaney, Annixter, who had been reading "David Copperfield" +in his hammock on the porch of the ranch house, put down the book +and went to find Hilma, who was helping Louisa Vacca set the +table for dinner. He found her in the dining-room, her hands +full of the gold-bordered china plates, only used on special +occasions and which Louisa was forbidden to touch. + +His wife was more than ordinarily pretty that day. She wore a +dress of flowered organdie over pink sateen with pink ribbons +about her waist and neck, and on her slim feet the low shoes she +always affected, with their smart, bright buckles. Her thick, +brown, sweet-smelling hair was heaped high upon her head and set +off with a bow of black velvet, and underneath the shadow of its +coils, her wide-open eyes, rimmed with the thin, black line of +her lashes, shone continually, reflecting the sunlight. Marriage +had only accentuated the beautiful maturity of Hilma's figure-- +now no longer precocious--defining the single, deep swell from +her throat to her waist, the strong, fine amplitude of her hips, +the sweet feminine undulation of her neck and shoulders. Her +cheeks were pink with health, and her large round arms carried +the piled-up dishes with never a tremour. Annixter, observant +enough where his wife was concerned noted how the reflection of +the white china set a glow of pale light underneath her chin. + +"Hilma," he said, "I've been wondering lately about things. +We're so blamed happy ourselves it won't do for us to forget +about other people who are down, will it? Might change our luck. +And I'm just likely to forget that way, too. It's my nature." + +His wife looked up at him joyfully. Here was the new Annixter, +certainly. + +"In all this hullabaloo about Dyke," he went on "there's some one +nobody ain't thought about at all. That's MRS. Dyke--and the +little tad. I wouldn't be surprised if they were in a hole over +there. What do you say we drive over to the hop ranch after +dinner and see if she wants anything?" + +Hilma put down the plates and came around the table and kissed +him without a word. + +As soon as their dinner was over, Annixter had the carry-all +hitched up, and, dispensing with young Vacca, drove over to the +hop ranch with Hilma. + +Hilma could not keep back the tears as they passed through the +lamentable desolation of the withered, brown vines, symbols of +perished hopes and abandoned effort, and Annixter swore between +his teeth. + +Though the wheels of the carry-all grated loudly on the roadway +in front of the house, nobody came to the door nor looked from +the windows. The place seemed tenantless, infinitely lonely, +infinitely sad. +Annixter tied the team, and with Hilma approached the wide-open +door, scuffling and tramping on the porch to attract attention. +Nobody stirred. A Sunday stillness pervaded the place. Outside, +the withered hop-leaves rustled like dry paper in the breeze. +The quiet was ominous. They peered into the front room from the +doorway, Hilma holding her husband's hand. Mrs. Dyke was there. +She sat at the table in the middle of the room, her head, with +its white hair, down upon her arm. A clutter of unwashed dishes +were strewed over the red and white tablecloth. The unkempt +room, once a marvel of neatness, had not been cleaned for days. +Newspapers, Genslinger's extras and copies of San Francisco and +Los Angeles dailies were scattered all over the room. On the +table itself were crumpled yellow telegrams, a dozen of them, a +score of them, blowing about in the draught from the door. And +in the midst of all this disarray, surrounded by the published +accounts of her son's crime, the telegraphed answers to her +pitiful appeals for tidings fluttering about her head, the +highwayman's mother, worn out, abandoned and forgotten, slept +through the stillness of the Sunday afternoon. + +Neither Hilma nor Annixter ever forgot their interview with Mrs. +Dyke that day. Suddenly waking, she had caught sight of +Annixter, and at once exclaimed eagerly: + +"Is there any news?" + +For a long time afterwards nothing could be got from her. She +was numb to all other issues than the one question of Dyke's +capture. She did not answer their questions nor reply to their +offers of assistance. Hilma and Annixter conferred together +without lowering their voices, at her very elbow, while she +looked vacantly at the floor, drawing one hand over the other in +a persistent, maniacal gesture. From time to time she would +start suddenly from her chair, her eyes wide, and as if all at +once realising Annixter's presence, would cry out: + +"Is there any news?" + +"Where is Sidney, Mrs. Dyke?" asked Hilma for the fourth time. +"Is she well? Is she taken care of?" + +"Here's the last telegram," said Mrs. Dyke, in a loud, monotonous +voice. "See, it says there is no news. He didn't do it," she +moaned, rocking herself back and forth, drawing one hand over the +other, "he didn't do it, he didn't do it, he didn't do it. I +don't know where he is." + +When at last she came to herself, it was with a flood of tears. +Hilma put her arms around the poor, old woman, as she bowed +herself again upon the table, sobbing and weeping. + +"Oh, my son, my son," she cried, "my own boy, my only son! If I +could have died for you to have prevented this. I remember him +when he was little. Such a splendid little fellow, so brave, so +loving, with never an unkind thought, never a mean action. So it +was all his life. We were never apart. It was always 'dear +little son,' and 'dear mammy' between us--never once was he +unkind, and he loved me and was the gentlest son to me. And he +was a GOOD man. He is now, he is now. They don't understand +him. They are not even sure that he did this. He never meant +it. They don't know my son. Why, he wouldn't have hurt a +kitten. Everybody loved him. He was driven to it. They hounded +him down, they wouldn't let him alone. He was not right in his +mind. They hounded him to it," she cried fiercely, "they hounded +him to it. They drove him and goaded him till he couldn't stand +it any longer, and now they mean to kill him for turning on them. +They are hunting him with dogs; night after night I have stood on +the porch and heard the dogs baying far off. They are tracking +my boy with dogs like a wild animal. May God never forgive +them." She rose to her feet, terrible, her white hair unbound. +"May God punish them as they deserve, may they never prosper--on +my knees I shall pray for it every night--may their money be a +curse to them, may their sons, their first-born, only sons, be +taken from them in their youth." + +But Hilma interrupted, begging her to be silent, to be quiet. +The tears came again then and the choking sobs. Hilma took her +in her arms. + +"Oh, my little boy, my little boy," she cried. "My only son, all +that I had, to have come to this! He was not right in his mind +or he would have known it would break my heart. Oh, my son, my +son, if I could have died for you." + +Sidney came in, clinging to her dress, weeping, imploring her not +to cry, protesting that they never could catch her papa, that he +would come back soon. Hilma took them both, the little child and +the broken-down old woman, in the great embrace of her strong +arms, and they all three sobbed together. + +Annixter stood on the porch outside, his back turned, looking +straight before him into the wilderness of dead vines, his teeth +shut hard, his lower lip thrust out. + +"I hope S. Behrman is satisfied with all this," he muttered. "I +hope he is satisfied now, damn his soul!" + +All at once an idea occurred to him. He turned about and +reentered the room. + +"Mrs Dyke," he began, "I want you and Sidney to come over and +live at Quien Sabe. I know--you can't make me believe that the +reporters and officers and officious busy-faces that pretend to +offer help just so as they can satisfy their curiosity aren't +nagging you to death. I want you to let me take care of you and +the little tad till all this trouble of yours is over with. +There's plenty of place for you. You can have the house my +wife's people used to live in. You've got to look these things +in the face. What are you going to do to get along? You must be +very short of money. S. Behrman will foreclose on you and take +the whole place in a little while, now. I want you to let me +help you, let Hilma and me be good friends to you. It would be a +privilege." + +Mrs. Dyke tried bravely to assume her pride, insisting that she +could manage, but her spirit was broken. The whole affair ended +unexpectedly, with Annixter and Hilma bringing Dyke's mother and +little girl back to Quien Sabe in the carry-all. + +Mrs. Dyke would not take with her a stick of furniture nor a +single ornament. It would only serve to remind her of a vanished +happiness. She packed a few clothes of her own and Sidney's in a +little trunk, Hilma helping her, and Annixter stowed the trunk +under the carry-all's back seat. Mrs. Dyke turned the key in the +door of the house and Annixter helped her to her seat beside his +wife. They drove through the sear, brown hop vines. At the +angle of the road Mrs. Dyke turned around and looked back at the +ruin of the hop ranch, the roof of the house just showing above +the trees. She never saw it again. + +As soon as Annixter and Hilma were alone, after their return to +Quien Sabe--Mrs. Dyke and Sidney having been installed in the +Trees' old house--Hilma threw her arms around her husband's neck. + +"Fine," she exclaimed, "oh, it was fine of you, dear to think of +them and to be so good to them. My husband is such a GOOD man. +So unselfish. You wouldn't have thought of being kind to Mrs. +Dyke and Sidney a little while ago. You wouldn't have thought of +them at all. But you did now, and it's just because you love me +true, isn't it? Isn't it? And because it's made you a better +man. I'm so proud and glad to think it's so. It is so, isn't +it? Just because you love me true." + +"You bet it is, Hilma," he told her. + +As Hilma and Annixter were sitting down to the supper which they +found waiting for them, Louisa Vacca came to the door of the +dining-room to say that Harran Derrick had telephoned over from +Los Muertos for Annixter, and had left word for him to ring up +Los Muertos as soon as he came in. + +"He said it was important," added Louisa Vacca. + +"Maybe they have news from Washington," suggested Hilma. + +Annixter would not wait to have supper, but telephoned to Los +Muertos at once. Magnus answered the call. There was a special +meeting of the Executive Committee of the League summoned for the +next day, he told Annixter. It was for the purpose of +considering the new grain tariff prepared by the Railroad +Commissioners. Lyman had written that the schedule of this +tariff had just been issued, that he had not been able to +construct it precisely according to the wheat-growers' wishes, +and that he, himself, would come down to Los Muertos and explain +its apparent discrepancies. Magnus said Lyman would be present +at the session. + +Annixter, curious for details, forbore, nevertheless, to +question. The connection from Los Muertos to Quien Sabe was made +through Bonneville, and in those troublesome times no one could +be trusted. It could not be known who would overhear +conversations carried on over the lines. He assured Magnus that +he would be on hand. +The time for the Committee meeting had been set for seven o'clock +in the evening, in order to accommodate Lyman, who wrote that he +would be down on the evening train, but would be compelled, by +pressure of business, to return to the city early the next +morning. + +At the time appointed, the men composing the Committee gathered +about the table in the dining-room of the Los Muertos ranch +house. It was almost a reproduction of the scene of the famous +evening when Osterman had proposed the plan of the Ranchers' +Railroad Commission. Magnus Derrick sat at the head of the +table, in his buttoned frock coat. Whiskey bottles and siphons +of soda-water were within easy reach. Presley, who by now was +considered the confidential friend of every member of the +Committee, lounged as before on the sofa, smoking cigarettes, the +cat Nathalie on his knee. Besides Magnus and Annixter, Osterman +was present, and old Broderson and Harran; Garnet from the Ruby +Rancho and Gethings of the San Pablo, who were also members of +the Executive Committee, were on hand, preoccupied, bearded men, +smoking black cigars, and, last of all, Dabney, the silent old +man, of whom little was known but his name, and who had been made +a member of the Committee, nobody could tell why. + +"My son Lyman should be here, gentlemen, within at least ten +minutes. I have sent my team to meet him at Bonneville," +explained Magnus, as he called the meeting to order. "The +Secretary will call the roll." + +Osterman called the roll, and, to fill in the time, read over the +minutes of the previous meeting. The treasurer was making his +report as to the funds at the disposal of the League when Lyman +arrived. + +Magnus and Harran went forward to meet him, and the Committee +rather awkwardly rose and remained standing while the three +exchanged greetings, the members, some of whom had never seen +their commissioner, eyeing him out of the corners of their eyes. + +Lyman was dressed with his usual correctness. His cravat was of +the latest fashion, his clothes of careful design and +unimpeachable fit. His shoes, of patent leather, reflected the +lamplight, and he carried a drab overcoat over his arm. Before +being introduced to the Committee, he excused himself a moment +and ran to see his mother, who waited for him in the adjoining +sitting-room. But in a few moments he returned, asking pardon +for the delay. + +He was all affability; his protruding eyes, that gave such an +unusual, foreign appearance to his very dark face, radiated +geniality. He was evidently anxious to please, to produce a good +impression upon the grave, clumsy farmers before whom he stood. +But at the same time, Presley, watching him from his place on the +sofa, could imagine that he was rather nervous. He was too +nimble in his cordiality, and the little gestures he made in +bringing his cuffs into view and in touching the ends of his +tight, black mustache with the ball of his thumb were repeated +with unnecessary frequency. + +"Mr. Broderson, my son, Lyman, my eldest son. Mr. Annixter, my +son, Lyman." + +The Governor introduced him to the ranchers, proud of Lyman's +good looks, his correct dress, his ease of manner. Lyman shook +hands all around, keeping up a flow of small talk, finding a new +phrase for each member, complimenting Osterman, whom he already +knew, upon his talent for organisation, recalling a mutual +acquaintance to the mind of old Broderson. At length, however, +he sat down at the end of the table, opposite his brother. There +was a silence. + +Magnus rose to recapitulate the reasons for the extra session of +the Committee, stating again that the Board of Railway +Commissioners which they--the ranchers--had succeeded in seating +had at length issued the new schedule of reduced rates, and that +Mr. Derrick had been obliging enough to offer to come down to Los +Muertos in person to acquaint the wheat-growers of the San +Joaquin with the new rates for the carriage of their grain. + +But Lyman very politely protested, addressing his father +punctiliously as "Mr. Chairman," and the other ranchers as +"Gentlemen of the Executive Committee of the League." He had no +wish, he said, to disarrange the regular proceedings of the +Committee. Would it not be preferable to defer the reading of +his report till "new business" was called for? In the meanwhile, +let the Committee proceed with its usual work. He understood the +necessarily delicate nature of this work, and would be pleased to +withdraw till the proper time arrived for him to speak. + +"Good deal of backing and filling about the reading of a column +of figures," muttered Annixter to the man at his elbow. + +Lyman "awaited the Committee's decision." He sat down, touching +the ends of his mustache. + +"Oh, play ball," growled Annixter. + +Gethings rose to say that as the meeting had been called solely +for the purpose of hearing and considering the new grain tariff, +he was of the opinion that routine business could be dispensed +with and the schedule read at once. It was so ordered. + +Lyman rose and made a long speech. Voluble as Osterman himself, +he, nevertheless, had at his command a vast number of ready-made +phrases, the staples of a political speaker, the stock in trade +of the commercial lawyer, which rolled off his tongue with the +most persuasive fluency. By degrees, in the course of his +speech, he began to insinuate the idea that the wheat-growers had +never expected to settle their difficulties with the Railroad by +the work of a single commission; that they had counted upon a +long, continued campaign of many years, railway commission +succeeding railway commission, before the desired low rates +should be secured; that the present Board of Commissioners was +only the beginning and that too great results were not expected +from them. All this he contrived to mention casually, in the +talk, as if it were a foregone conclusion, a matter understood by +all. + +As the speech continued, the eyes of the ranchers around the +table were fixed with growing attention upon this well-dressed, +city-bred young man, who spoke so fluently and who told them of +their own intentions. A feeling of perplexity began to spread, +and the first taint of distrust invaded their minds. + +"But the good work has been most auspiciously inaugurated," +continued Lyman. "Reforms so sweeping as the one contemplated +cannot be accomplished in a single night. Great things grow +slowly, benefits to be permanent must accrue gradually. Yet, in +spite of all this, your commissioners have done much. Already +the phalanx of the enemy is pierced, already his armour is +dinted. Pledged as were your commissioners to an average ten per +cent. reduction in rates for the carriage of grain by the Pacific +and Southwestern Railroad, we have rigidly adhered to the demands +of our constituency, we have obeyed the People. The main problem +has not yet been completely solved; that is for later, when we +shall have gathered sufficient strength to attack the enemy in +his very stronghold; BUT AN AVERAGE TEN PER CENT. CUT HAS BEEN +MADE ALL OVER THE STATE. We have made a great advance, have +taken a great step forward, and if the work is carried ahead, +upon the lines laid down by the present commissioners and their +constituents, there is every reason to believe that within a very +few years equitable and stable rates for the shipment of grain +from the San Joaquin Valley to Stockton, Port Costa, and +tidewater will be permanently imposed." + +"Well, hold on," exclaimed Annixter, out of order and ignoring +the Governor's reproof, "hasn't your commission reduced grain +rates in the San Joaquin?" + +"We have reduced grain rates by ten per cent. all over the +State," rejoined Lyman. "Here are copies of the new schedule." + +He drew them from his valise and passed them around the table. + +"You see," he observed, "the rate between Mayfield and Oakland, +for instance, has been reduced by twenty-five cents a ton." + +"Yes--but--but--" said old Broderson, "it is rather unusual, +isn't it, for wheat in that district to be sent to Oakland?" +"Why, look here," exclaimed Annixter, looking up from the +schedule, "where is there any reduction in rates in the San +Joaquin--from Bonneville and Guadalajara, for instance? I don't +see as you've made any reduction at all. Is this right? Did you +give me the right schedule?" + +"Of course, ALL the points in the State could not be covered at +once," returned Lyman. "We never expected, you know, that we +could cut rates in the San Joaquin the very first move; that is +for later. But you will see we made very material reductions on +shipments from the upper Sacramento Valley; also the rate from +Ione to Marysville has been reduced eighty cents a ton." + +"Why, rot," cried Annixter, "no one ever ships wheat that way." + +"The Salinas rate," continued Lyman, "has been lowered seventy- +five cents; the St. Helena rate fifty cents, and please notice +the very drastic cut from Red Bluff, north, along the Oregon +route, to the Oregon State Line." + +"Where not a carload of wheat is shipped in a year," commented +Gethings of the San Pablo. + +"Oh, you will find yourself mistaken there, Mr. Gethings," +returned Lyman courteously. "And for the matter of that, a low +rate would stimulate wheat-production in that district." + +The order of the meeting was broken up, neglected; Magnus did not +even pretend to preside. In the growing excitement over the +inexplicable schedule, routine was not thought of. Every one +spoke at will. + +"Why, Lyman," demanded Magnus, looking across the table to his +son, "is this schedule correct? You have not cut rates in the +San Joaquin at all. We--these gentlemen here and myself, we are +no better off than we were before we secured your election as +commissioner." + +"We were pledged to make an average ten per cent. cut, sir----" +"It IS an average ten per cent. cut," cried Osterman. "Oh, yes, +that's plain. It's an average ten per cent. cut all right, but +you've made it by cutting grain rates between points where +practically no grain is shipped. We, the wheat-growers in the +San Joaquin, where all the wheat is grown, are right where we +were before. The Railroad won't lose a nickel. By Jingo, boys," +he glanced around the table, "I'd like to know what this means." + +"The Railroad, if you come to that," returned Lyman, "has already +lodged a protest against the new rate." + +Annixter uttered a derisive shout. + +"A protest! That's good, that is. When the P. and S. W. objects +to rates it don't 'protest,' m' son. The first you hear from Mr. +Shelgrim is an injunction from the courts preventing the order +for new rates from taking effect. By the Lord," he cried +angrily, leaping to his feet, "I would like to know what all this +means, too. Why didn't you reduce our grain rates? What did we +elect you for?" + +"Yes, what did we elect you for?" demanded Osterman and Gethings, +also getting to their feet. + +"Order, order, gentlemen," cried Magnus, remembering the duties +of his office and rapping his knuckles on the table. "This +meeting has been allowed to degenerate too far already." + +"You elected us," declared Lyman doggedly, "to make an average +ten per cent. cut on grain rates. We have done it. Only because +you don't benefit at once, you object. It makes a difference +whose ox is gored, it seems." + +"Lyman!" + +It was Magnus who spoke. He had drawn himself to his full six +feet. His eyes were flashing direct into his son's. His voice +rang with severity. + +"Lyman, what does this mean?" + +The other spread out his hands. + +"As you see, sir. We have done our best. I warned you not to +expect too much. I told you that this question of transportation +was difficult. You would not wish to put rates so low that the +action would amount to confiscation of property." + +"Why did you not lower rates in the valley of the San Joaquin?" + +"That was not a PROMINENT issue in the affair," responded Lyman, +carefully emphasising his words. "I understand, of course, it +was to be approached IN TIME. The main point was AN AVERAGE TEN +PER CENT. REDUCTION. Rates WILL be lowered in the San Joaquin. +The ranchers around Bonneville will be able to ship to Port Costa +at equitable rates, but so radical a measure as that cannot be +put through in a turn of the hand. We must study----" + +"You KNEW the San Joaquin rate was an issue," shouted Annixter, +shaking his finger across the table. "What do we men who backed +you care about rates up in Del Norte and Siskiyou Counties? Not +a whoop in hell. It was the San Joaquin rate we were fighting +for, and we elected you to reduce that. You didn't do it and you +don't intend to, and, by the Lord Harry, I want to know why." + +"You'll know, sir--" began Lyman. + +"Well, I'll tell you why," vociferated Osterman. "I'll tell you +why. It's because we have been sold out. It's because the P. +and S. W. have had their spoon in this boiling. It's because our +commissioners have betrayed us. It's because we're a set of damn +fool farmers and have been cinched again." + +Lyman paled under his dark skin at the direct attack. He +evidently had not expected this so soon. For the fraction of one +instant he lost his poise. He strove to speak, but caught his +breath, stammering. + +"What have you to say, then?" cried Harran, who, until now, had +not spoken. + +"I have this to say," answered Lyman, making head as best he +might, "that this is no proper spirit in which to discuss +business. The Commission has fulfilled its obligations. It has +adjusted rates to the best of its ability. We have been at work +for two months on the preparation of this schedule----" + +"That's a lie," shouted Annixter, his face scarlet; "that's a +lie. That schedule was drawn in the offices of the Pacific and +Southwestern and you know it. It's a scheme of rates made for +the Railroad and by the Railroad and you were bought over to put +your name to it." + +There was a concerted outburst at the words. All the men in the +room were on their feet, gesticulating and vociferating. + +"Gentlemen, gentlemen," cried Magnus, "are we schoolboys, are we +ruffians of the street?" + +"We're a set of fool farmers and we've been betrayed," cried +Osterman. + +"Well, what have you to say? What have you to say?" persisted +Harran, leaning across the table toward his brother. "For God's +sake, Lyman, you've got SOME explanation." + +"You've misunderstood," protested Lyman, white and trembling. +"You've misunderstood. You've expected too much. Next year,-- +next year,--soon now, the Commission will take up the--the +Commission will consider the San Joaquin rate. We've done our +best, that is all." + +"Have you, sir?" demanded Magnus. + +The Governor's head was in a whirl; a sensation, almost of +faintness, had seized upon him. Was it possible? Was it +possible? + +"Have you done your best?" For a second he compelled Lyman's eye. +The glances of father and son met, and, in spite of his best +efforts, Lyman's eyes wavered. He began to protest once more, +explaining the matter over again from the beginning. But Magnus +did not listen. In that brief lapse of time he was convinced +that the terrible thing had happened, that the unbelievable had +come to pass. It was in the air. Between father and son, in +some subtle fashion, the truth that was a lie stood suddenly +revealed. But even then Magnus would not receive it. Lyman do +this! His son, his eldest son, descend to this! Once more and +for the last time he turned to him and in his voice there was +that ring that compelled silence. + +"Lyman," he said, "I adjure you--I--I demand of you as you are my +son and an honourable man, explain yourself. What is there +behind all this? It is no longer as Chairman of the Committee I +speak to you, you a member of the Railroad Commission. It is +your father who speaks, and I address you as my son. Do you +understand the gravity of this crisis; do you realise the +responsibility of your position; do you not see the importance of +this moment? Explain yourself." + +"There is nothing to explain." + +"You have not reduced rates in the San Joaquin? You have not +reduced rates between Bonneville and tidewater?" + +"I repeat, sir, what I said before. An average ten per cent. +cut----" + +"Lyman, answer me, yes or no. Have you reduced the Bonneville +rate?" + +"It could not be done so soon. Give us time. We----" + +"Yes or no! By God, sir, do you dare equivocate with me? Yes or +no; have you reduced the Bonneville rate?" + +"No." + +"And answer ME," shouted Harran, leaning far across the table, +"answer ME. Were you paid by the Railroad to leave the San +Joaquin rate untouched?" + +Lyman, whiter than ever, turned furious upon his brother. + +"Don't you dare put that question to me again." + +"No, I won't," cried Harran, "because I'll TELL you to your +villain's face that you WERE paid to do it." + +On the instant the clamour burst forth afresh. Still on their +feet, the ranchers had, little by little, worked around the +table, Magnus alone keeping his place. The others were in a +group before Lyman, crowding him, as it were, to the wall, +shouting into his face with menacing gestures. The truth that +was a lie, the certainty of a trust betrayed, a pledge ruthlessly +broken, was plain to every one of them. + +"By the Lord! men have been shot for less than this," cried +Osterman. "You've sold us out, you, and if you ever bring that +dago face of yours on a level with mine again, I'll slap it." + +"Keep your hands off," exclaimed Lyman quickly, the +aggressiveness of the cornered rat flaming up within him. "No +violence. Don't you go too far." + +"How much were you paid? How much were you paid?" vociferated +Harran. + +"Yes, yes, what was your price?" cried the others. They were +beside themselves with anger; their words came harsh from between +their set teeth; their gestures were made with their fists +clenched. + +"You know the Commission acted in good faith," retorted Lyman. +"You know that all was fair and above board." + +"Liar," shouted Annixter; "liar, bribe-eater. You were bought +and paid for," and with the words his arm seemed almost of itself +to leap out from his shoulder. Lyman received the blow squarely +in the face and the force of it sent him staggering backwards +toward the wall. He tripped over his valise and fell half way, +his back supported against the closed door of the room. Magnus +sprang forward. His son had been struck, and the instincts of a +father rose up in instant protest; rose for a moment, then +forever died away in his heart. He checked the words that +flashed to his mind. He lowered his upraised arm. No, he had +but one son. The poor, staggering creature with the fine +clothes, white face, and blood-streaked lips was no longer his. +A blow could not dishonour him more than he had dishonoured +himself. + +But Gethings, the older man, intervened, pulling Annixter back, +crying: + +"Stop, this won't do. Not before his father." + +"I am no father to this man, gentlemen," exclaimed Magnus. "From +now on, I have but one son. You, sir," he turned to Lyman, "you, +sir, leave my house." + +Lyman, his handkerchief to his lips, his smart cravat in +disarray, caught up his hat and coat. He was shaking with fury, +his protruding eyes were blood-shot. He swung open the door. + +"Ruffians," he shouted from the threshold, "ruffians, bullies. +Do your own dirty business yourselves after this. I'm done with +you. How is it, all of a sudden you talk about honour? How is +it that all at once you're so clean and straight? You weren't so +particular at Sacramento just before the nominations. How was +the Board elected? I'm a bribe-eater, am I? Is it any worse +than GIVING a bribe? Ask Magnus Derrick what he thinks about +that. Ask him how much he paid the Democratic bosses at +Sacramento to swing the convention." + +He went out, slamming the door. + +Presley followed. The whole affair made him sick at heart, +filled him with infinite disgust, infinite weariness. He wished +to get away from it all. He left the dining-room and the +excited, clamouring men behind him and stepped out on the porch +of the ranch house, closing the door behind him. Lyman was +nowhere in sight. Presley was alone. It was late, and after the +lamp-heated air of the dining-room, the coolness of the night was +delicious, and its vast silence, after the noise and fury of the +committee meeting, descended from the stars like a benediction. +Presley stepped to the edge of the porch, looking off to +southward. + +And there before him, mile after mile, illimitable, covering the +earth from horizon to horizon, lay the Wheat. The growth, now +many days old, was already high from the ground. There it lay, a +vast, silent ocean, shimmering a pallid green under the moon and +under the stars; a mighty force, the strength of nations, the +life of the world. There in the night, under the dome of the +sky, it was growing steadily. To Presley's mind, the scene in +the room he had just left dwindled to paltry insignificance +before this sight. Ah, yes, the Wheat--it was over this that the +Railroad, the ranchers, the traitor false to his trust, all the +members of an obscure conspiracy, were wrangling. As if human +agency could affect this colossal power! What were these heated, +tiny squabbles, this feverish, small bustle of mankind, this +minute swarming of the human insect, to the great, majestic, +silent ocean of the Wheat itself! Indifferent, gigantic, +resistless, it moved in its appointed grooves. Men, Liliputians, +gnats in the sunshine, buzzed impudently in their tiny battles, +were born, lived through their little day, died, and were +forgotten; while the Wheat, wrapped in Nirvanic calm, grew +steadily under the night, alone with the stars and with God. + + + +V. + + +Jack-rabbits were a pest that year and Presley occasionally found +amusement in hunting them with Harran's half-dozen greyhounds, +following the chase on horseback. One day, between two and three +months after Lyman s visit to Los Muertos, as he was returning +toward the ranch house from a distant and lonely quarter of Los +Muertos, he came unexpectedly upon a strange sight. + +Some twenty men, Annixter's and Osterman's tenants, and small +ranchers from east of Guadalajara--all members of the League-- +were going through the manual of arms under Harran Derrick's +supervision. They were all equipped with new Winchester rifles. +Harran carried one of these himself and with it he illustrated +the various commands he gave. As soon as one of the men under +his supervision became more than usually proficient, he was told +off to instruct a file of the more backward. After the manual of +arms, Harran gave the command to take distance as skirmishers, +and when the line had opened out so that some half-dozen feet +intervened between each man, an advance was made across the +field, the men stooping low and snapping the hammers of their +rifles at an imaginary enemy. + +The League had its agents in San Francisco, who watched the +movements of the Railroad as closely as was possible, and some +time before this, Annixter had received word that the Marshal and +his deputies were coming down to Bonneville to put the dummy +buyers of his ranch in possession. The report proved to be but +the first of many false alarms, but it had stimulated the League +to unusual activity, and some three or four hundred men were +furnished with arms and from time to time were drilled in secret. + +Among themselves, the ranchers said that if the Railroad managers +did not believe they were terribly in earnest in the stand they +had taken, they were making a fatal mistake. + +Harran reasserted this statement to Presley on the way home to +the ranch house that same day. Harran had caught up with him by +the time he reached the Lower Road, and the two jogged homeward +through the miles of standing wheat. + +"They may jump the ranch, Pres," he said, "if they try hard +enough, but they will never do it while I am alive. By the way," +he added, "you know we served notices yesterday upon S. Behrman +and Cy. Ruggles to quit the country. Of course, they won't do +it, but they won't be able to say they didn't have warning." + +About an hour later, the two reached the ranch house, but as +Harran rode up the driveway, he uttered an exclamation. + +"Hello," he said, "something is up. That's Genslinger's +buckboard." + +In fact, the editor's team was tied underneath the shade of a +giant eucalyptus tree near by. Harran, uneasy under this +unexpected visit of the enemy's friend, dismounted without +stabling his horse, and went at once to the dining-room, where +visitors were invariably received. But the dining-room was +empty, and his mother told him that Magnus and the editor were in +the "office." Magnus had said they were not to be disturbed. + +Earlier in the afternoon, the editor had driven up to the porch +and had asked Mrs. Derrick, whom he found reading a book of poems +on the porch, if he could see Magnus. At the time, the Governor +had gone with Phelps to inspect the condition of the young wheat +on Hooven's holding, but within half an hour he returned, and +Genslinger had asked him for a "few moments' talk in private." + +The two went into the "office," Magnus locking the door behind +him. +"Very complete you are here, Governor," observed the editor in +his alert, jerky manner, his black, bead-like eyes twinkling +around the room from behind his glasses. "Telephone, safe, +ticker, account-books--well, that's progress, isn't it? Only way +to manage a big ranch these days. But the day of the big ranch +is over. As the land appreciates in value, the temptation to +sell off small holdings will be too strong. And then the small +holding can be cultivated to better advantage. I shall have an +editorial on that some day." + +"The cost of maintaining a number of small holdings," said +Magnus, indifferently, "is, of course, greater than if they were +all under one management." + +"That may be, that may be," rejoined the other. + +There was a long pause. Genslinger leaned back in his chair and +rubbed a knee. Magnus, standing erect in front of the safe, +waited for him to speak. + +"This is an unfortunate business, Governor," began the editor, +"this misunderstanding between the ranchers and the Railroad. I +wish it could be adjusted. HERE are two industries that MUST be +in harmony with one another, or we all go to pot." + +"I should prefer not to be interviewed on the subject, Mr. +Genslinger," said Magnus. + +"Oh, no, oh, no. Lord love you, Governor, I don't want to +interview you. We all know how you stand." + +Again there was a long silence. Magnus wondered what this little +man, usually so garrulous, could want of him. At length, +Genslinger began again. He did not look at Magnus, except at +long intervals. + +"About the present Railroad Commission," he remarked. "That was +an interesting campaign you conducted in Sacramento and San +Francisco." + +Magnus held his peace, his hands shut tight. Did Genslinger know +of Lyman's disgrace? Was it for this he had come? Would the +story of it be the leading article in to-morrow's Mercury? + +"An interesting campaign," repeated Genslinger, slowly; "a very +interesting campaign. I watched it with every degree of +interest. I saw its every phase, Mr. Derrick." + +"The campaign was not without its interest," admitted Magnus. + +"Yes," said Genslinger, still more deliberately, "and some phases +of it were--more interesting than others, as, for instance, let +us say the way in which you--personally--secured the votes of +certain chairmen of delegations--NEED I particularise further? +Yes, those men--the way you got their votes. Now, THAT I should +say, Mr. Derrick, was the most interesting move in the whole +game--to you. Hm, curious," he murmured, musingly. "Let's see. +You deposited two one-thousand dollar bills and four five-hundred +dollar bills in a box--three hundred and eight was the number--in +a box in the Safety Deposit Vaults in San Francisco, and then-- +let's see, you gave a key to this box to each of the gentlemen in +question, and after the election the box was empty. Now, I call +that interesting--curious, because it's a new, safe, and highly +ingenious method of bribery. How did you happen to think of it, +Governor?" + +"Do you know what you are doing, sir?" Magnus burst forth. "Do +you know what you are insinuating, here, in my own house?" + +"Why, Governor," returned the editor, blandly, "I'm not +INSINUATING anything. I'm talking about what I KNOW." + +"It's a lie." + +Genslinger rubbed his chin reflectively. + +"Well," he answered, "you can have a chance to prove it before +the Grand Jury, if you want to." + +"My character is known all over the State," blustered Magnus. +"My politics are pure politics. My----" + +"No one needs a better reputation for pure politics than the man +who sets out to be a briber," interrupted Genslinger, "and I +might as well tell you, Governor, that you can't shout me down. +I can put my hand on the two chairmen you bought before it's dark +to-day. I've had their depositions in my safe for the last six +weeks. We could make the arrests to-morrow, if we wanted. +Governor, you sure did a risky thing when you went into that +Sacramento fight, an awful risky thing. Some men can afford to +have bribery charges preferred against them, and it don't hurt +one little bit, but YOU--Lord, it would BUST you, Governor, bust +you dead. I know all about the whole shananigan business from A +to Z, and if you don't believe it--here," he drew a long strip of +paper from his pocket, "here's a galley proof of the story." + +Magnus took it in his hands. There, under his eyes, scare- +headed, double-leaded, the more important clauses printed in bold +type, was the detailed account of the "deal" Magnus had made with +the two delegates. It was pitiless, remorseless, bald. Every +statement was substantiated, every statistic verified with +Genslinger's meticulous love for exactness. Besides all that, it +had the ring of truth. It was exposure, ruin, absolute +annihilation. + +"That's about correct, isn't it?" commented Genslinger, as +Derrick finished reading. Magnus did not reply. "I think it is +correct enough," the editor continued. "But I thought it would +only be fair to you to let you see it before it was published." + +The one thought uppermost in Derrick's mind, his one impulse of +the moment was, at whatever cost, to preserve his dignity, not to +allow this man to exult in the sight of one quiver of weakness, +one trace of defeat, one suggestion of humiliation. By an effort +that put all his iron rigidity to the test, he forced himself to +look straight into Genslinger's eyes. + +"I congratulate you," he observed, handing back the proof, "upon +your journalistic enterprise. Your paper will sell to-morrow." +"Oh, I don't know as I want to publish this story," remarked the +editor, indifferently, putting away the galley. "I'm just like +that. The fun for me is running a good story to earth, but once +I've got it, I lose interest. And, then, I wouldn't like to see +you--holding the position you do, President of the League and a +leading man of the county--I wouldn't like to see a story like +this smash you over. It's worth more to you to keep it out of +print than for me to put it in. I've got nothing much to gain +but a few extra editions, but you--Lord, you would lose +everything. Your committee was in the deal right enough. But +your League, all the San Joaquin Valley, everybody in the State +believes the commissioners were fairly elected." + +"Your story," suddenly exclaimed Magnus, struck with an idea, +"will be thoroughly discredited just so soon as the new grain +tariff is published. I have means of knowing that the San +Joaquin rate--the issue upon which the board was elected--is not +to be touched. Is it likely the ranchers would secure the +election of a board that plays them false?" + +"Oh, we know all about that," answered Genslinger, smiling. "You +thought you were electing Lyman easily. You thought you had got +the Railroad to walk right into your trap. You didn't understand +how you could pull off your deal so easily. Why, Governor, LYMAN +WAS PLEDGED TO THE RAILROAD TWO YEARS AGO. He was THE ONE +PARTICULAR man the corporation wanted for commissioner. And your +people elected him--saved the Railroad all the trouble of +campaigning for him. And you can't make any counter charge of +bribery there. No, sir, the corporation don't use such +amateurish methods as that. Confidentially and between us two, +all that the Railroad has done for Lyman, in order to attach him +to their interests, is to promise to back him politically in the +next campaign for Governor. It's too bad," he continued, +dropping his voice, and changing his position. "It really is too +bad to see good men trying to bunt a stone wall over with their +bare heads. You couldn't have won at any stage of the game. I +wish I could have talked to you and your friends before you went +into that Sacramento fight. I could have told you then how +little chance you had. When will you people realise that you +can't buck against the Railroad? Why, Magnus, it's like me going +out in a paper boat and shooting peas at a battleship." + +"Is that all you wished to see me about, Mr. Genslinger?" +remarked Magnus, bestirring himself. "I am rather occupied to- +day." +"Well," returned the other, "you know what the publication of +this article would mean for you." He paused again, took off his +glasses, breathed on them, polished the lenses with his +handkerchief and readjusted them on his nose. "I've been +thinking, Governor," he began again, with renewed alertness, and +quite irrelevantly, "of enlarging the scope of the ' Mercury.' +You see, I'm midway between the two big centres of the State, San +Francisco and Los Angeles, and I want to extend the 'Mercury's' +sphere of influence as far up and down the valley as I can. I +want to illustrate the paper. You see, if I had a photo- +engraving plant of my own, I could do a good deal of outside +jobbing as well, and the investment would pay ten per cent. But +it takes money to make money. I wouldn't want to put in any +dinky, one-horse affair. I want a good plant. I've been +figuring out the business. Besides the plant, there would be the +expense of a high grade paper. Can't print half-tones on +anything but coated paper, and that COSTS. Well, what with this +and with that and running expenses till the thing began to pay, +it would cost me about ten thousand dollars, and I was wondering +if, perhaps, you couldn't see your way clear to accommodating +me." + +"Ten thousand?" + +"Yes. Say five thousand down, and the balance within sixty +days." + +Magnus, for the moment blind to what Genslinger had in mind, +turned on him in astonishment. + +"Why, man, what security could you give me for such an amount?" + +"Well, to tell the truth," answered the editor, "I hadn't thought +much about securities. In fact, I believed you would see how +greatly it was to your advantage to talk business with me. You +see, I'm not going to print this article about you, Governor, and +I'm not going to let it get out so as any one else can print it, +and it seems to me that one good turn deserves another. You +understand?" + +Magnus understood. An overwhelming desire suddenly took +possession of him to grip this blackmailer by the throat, to +strangle him where he stood; or, if not, at least to turn upon +him with that old-time terrible anger, before which whole +conventions had once cowered. But in the same moment the +Governor realised this was not to be. Only its righteousness had +made his wrath terrible; only the justice of his anger had made +him feared. Now the foundation was gone from under his feet; he +had knocked it away himself. Three times feeble was he whose +quarrel was unjust. Before this country editor, this paid +speaker of the Railroad, he stood, convicted. The man had him at +his mercy. The detected briber could not resent an insult. +Genslinger rose, smoothing his hat. + +"Well," he said, "of course, you want time to think it over, and +you can't raise money like that on short notice. I'll wait till +Friday noon of this week. We begin to set Saturday's paper at +about four, Friday afternoon, and the forms are locked about two +in the morning. I hope," he added, turning back at the door of +the room, "that you won't find anything disagreeable in your +Saturday morning 'Mercury,' Mr. Derrick." + +He went out, closing the door behind him, and in a moment, Magnus +heard the wheels of his buckboard grating on the driveway. + +The following morning brought a letter to Magnus from Gethings, +of the San Pueblo ranch, which was situated very close to +Visalia. The letter was to the effect that all around Visalia, +upon the ranches affected by the regrade of the Railroad, men +were arming and drilling, and that the strength of the League in +that quarter was undoubted. "But to refer," continued the +letter, "to a most painful recollection. You will, no doubt, +remember that, at the close of our last committee meeting, +specific charges were made as to fraud in the nomination and +election of one of our commissioners, emanating, most +unfortunately, from the commissioner himself. These charges, my +dear Mr. Derrick, were directed at yourself. How the secrets of +the committee have been noised about, I cannot understand. You +may be, of course, assured of my own unquestioning confidence and +loyalty. However, I regret exceedingly to state not only that +the rumour of the charges referred to above is spreading in this +district, but that also they are made use of by the enemies of +the League. It is to be deplored that some of the Leaguers +themselves--you know, we number in our ranks many small farmers, +ignorant Portuguese and foreigners--have listened to these +stories and have permitted a feeling of uneasiness to develop +among them. Even though it were admitted that fraudulent means +had been employed in the elections, which, of course, I +personally do not admit, I do not think it would make very much +difference in the confidence which the vast majority of the +Leaguers repose in their chiefs. Yet we have so insisted upon +the probity of our position as opposed to Railroad chicanery, +that I believe it advisable to quell this distant suspicion at +once; to publish a denial of these rumoured charges would only be +to give them too much importance. However, can you not write me +a letter, stating exactly how the campaign was conducted, and the +commission nominated and elected? I could show this to some of +the more disaffected, and it would serve to allay all suspicion +on the instant. I think it would be well to write as though the +initiative came, not from me, but from yourself, ignoring this +present letter. I offer this only as a suggestion, and will +confidently endorse any decision you may arrive at." + +The letter closed with renewed protestations of confidence. + +Magnus was alone when he read this. He put it carefully away in +the filing cabinet in his office, and wiped the sweat from his +forehead and face. He stood for one moment, his hands rigid at +his sides, his fists clinched. + +"This is piling up," he muttered, looking blankly at the opposite +wall. "My God, this is piling up. What am I to do?" + +Ah, the bitterness of unavailing regret, the anguish of +compromise with conscience, the remorse of a bad deed done in a +moment of excitement. Ah, the humiliation of detection, the +degradation of being caught, caught like a schoolboy pilfering +his fellows' desks, and, worse than all, worse than all, the +consciousness of lost self-respect, the knowledge of a prestige +vanishing, a dignity impaired, knowledge that the grip which held +a multitude in check was trembling, that control was wavering, +that command was being weakened. Then the little tricks to +deceive the crowd, the little subterfuges, the little pretences +that kept up appearances, the lies, the bluster, the pose, the +strut, the gasconade, where once was iron authority; the turning +of the head so as not to see that which could not be prevented; +the suspicion of suspicion, the haunting fear of the Man on the +Street, the uneasiness of the direct glance, the questioning as +to motives--why had this been said, what was meant by that word, +that gesture, that glance? + +Wednesday passed, and Thursday. Magnus kept to himself, seeing +no visitors, avoiding even his family. How to break through the +mesh of the net, how to regain the old position, how to prevent +discovery? If there were only some way, some vast, superhuman +effort by which he could rise in his old strength once more, +crushing Lyman with one hand, Genslinger with the other, and for +one more moment, the last, to stand supreme again, indomitable, +the leader; then go to his death, triumphant at the end, his +memory untarnished, his fame undimmed. But the plague-spot was +in himself, knitted forever into the fabric of his being. Though +Genslinger should be silenced, though Lyman should be crushed, +though even the League should overcome the Railroad, though he +should be the acknowledged leader of a resplendent victory, yet +the plague-spot would remain. There was no success for him now. +However conspicuous the outward achievement, he, he himself, +Magnus Derrick, had failed, miserably and irredeemably. + +Petty, material complications intruded, sordid considerations. +Even if Genslinger was to be paid, where was the money to come +from? His legal battles with the Railroad, extending now over a +period of many years, had cost him dear; his plan of sowing all +of Los Muertos to wheat, discharging the tenants, had proved +expensive, the campaign resulting in Lyman's election had drawn +heavily upon his account. All along he had been relying upon a +"bonanza crop" to reimburse him. It was not believable that the +Railroad would "jump" Los Muertos, but if this should happen, he +would be left without resources. Ten thousand dollars! Could he +raise the amount? Possibly. But to pay it out to a blackmailer! +To be held up thus in road-agent fashion, without a single means +of redress! Would it not cripple him financially? Genslinger +could do his worst. He, Magnus, would brave it out. Was not his +character above suspicion? + +Was it? This letter of Gethings's. Already the murmur of +uneasiness made itself heard. Was this not the thin edge of the +wedge? How the publication of Genslinger's story would drive it +home! How the spark of suspicion would flare into the blaze of +open accusation! There would be investigations. Investigation! +There was terror in the word. He could not stand investigation. +Magnus groaned aloud, covering his head with his clasped hands. +Briber, corrupter of government, ballot-box stuffer, descending +to the level of back-room politicians, of bar-room heelers, he, +Magnus Derrick, statesman of the old school, Roman in his iron +integrity, abandoning a career rather than enter the "new +politics," had, in one moment of weakness. hazarding all, even +honour, on a single stake, taking great chances to achieve great +results, swept away the work of a lifetime. + +Gambler that he was, he had at last chanced his highest stake, +his personal honour, in the greatest game of his life, and had +lost. + +It was Presley's morbidly keen observation that first noticed the +evidence of a new trouble in the Governor's face and manner. +Presley was sure that Lyman's defection had not so upset him. +The morning after the committee meeting, Magnus had called Harran +and Annie Derrick into the office, and, after telling his wife of +Lyman's betrayal, had forbidden either of them to mention his +name again. His attitude towards his prodigal son was that of +stern, unrelenting resentment. But now, Presley could not fail +to detect traces of a more deep-seated travail. Something was in +the wind. the times were troublous. What next was about to +happen? What fresh calamity impended? + +One morning, toward the very end of the week, Presley woke early +in his small, white-painted iron bed. He hastened to get up and +dress. There was much to be done that day. Until late the night +before, he had been at work on a collection of some of his +verses, gathered from the magazines in which they had first +appeared. Presley had received a liberal offer for the +publication of these verses in book form. "The Toilers" was to +be included in this book, and, indeed, was to give it its name-- +"The Toilers and Other Poems." Thus it was that, until the +previous midnight, he had been preparing the collection for +publication, revising, annotating, arranging. The book was to be +sent off that morning. + +But also Presley had received a typewritten note from Annixter, +inviting him to Quien Sabe that same day. Annixter explained +that it was Hilma's birthday, and that he had planned a picnic on +the high ground of his ranch, at the headwaters of Broderson +Creek. They were to go in the carry-all, Hilma, Presley, Mrs. +Dyke, Sidney, and himself, and were to make a day of it. They +would leave Quien Sabe at ten in the morning. Presley had at +once resolved to go. He was immensely fond of Annixter--more so +than ever since his marriage with Hilma and the astonishing +transformation of his character. Hilma, as well, was delightful +as Mrs. Annixter; and Mrs. Dyke and the little tad had always +been his friends. He would have a good time. + +But nobody was to go into Bonneville that morning with the mail, +and if he wished to send his manuscript, he would have to take it +in himself. He had resolved to do this, getting an early start, +and going on horseback to Quien Sabe, by way of Bonneville. + +It was barely six o'clock when Presley sat down to his coffee and +eggs in the dining-room of Los Muertos. The day promised to be +hot, and for the first time, Presley had put on a new khaki +riding suit, very English-looking, though in place of the +regulation top-boots, he wore his laced knee-boots, with a great +spur on the left heel. Harran joined him at breakfast, in his +working clothes of blue canvas. He was bound for the irrigating +ditch to see how the work was getting on there. + +"How is the wheat looking?" asked Presley. + +"Bully," answered the other, stirring his coffee. "The Governor +has had his usual luck. Practically, every acre of the ranch was +sown to wheat, and everywhere the stand is good. I was over on +Two, day before yesterday, and if nothing happens, I believe it +will go thirty sacks to the acre there. Cutter reports that +there are spots on Four where we will get forty-two or three. +Hooven, too, brought up some wonderful fine ears for me to look +at. The grains were just beginning to show. Some of the ears +carried twenty grains. That means nearly forty bushels of wheat +to every acre. I call it a bonanza year." + +"Have you got any mail?" said Presley, rising. "I'm going into +town." + +Harran shook his head, and took himself away, and Presley went +down to the stable-corral to get his pony. + +As he rode out of the stable-yard and passed by the ranch house, +on the driveway, he was surprised to see Magnus on the lowest +step of the porch. + +"Good morning, Governor," called Presley. "Aren't you up pretty +early?" + +"Good morning, Pres, my boy." The Governor came forward and, +putting his hand on the pony's withers, walked along by his side. + +"Going to town, Pres?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir. Can I do anything for you, Governor?" + +Magnus drew a sealed envelope from his pocket. + +"I wish you would drop in at the office of the Mercury for me," +he said, "and see Mr. Genslinger personally, and give him this +envelope. It is a package of papers, but they involve a +considerable sum of money, and you must be careful of them. A +few years ago, when our enmity was not so strong, Mr. Genslinger +and I had some business dealings with each other. I thought it +as well just now, considering that we are so openly opposed, to +terminate the whole affair, and break off relations. We came to +a settlement a few days ago. These are the final papers. They +must be given to him in person, Presley. You understand." + +Presley cantered on, turning into the county road and holding +northward by the mammoth watering tank and Broderson's popular +windbreak. As he passed Caraher's, he saw the saloon-keeper in +the doorway of his place, and waved him a salutation which the +other returned. + +By degrees, Presley had come to consider Caraher in a more +favourable light. He found, to his immense astonishment, that +Caraher knew something of Mill and Bakounin, not, however, from +their books, but from extracts and quotations from their +writings, reprinted in the anarchistic journals to which he +subscribed. More than once, the two had held long conversations, +and from Caraher's own lips, Presley heard the terrible story of +the death of his wife, who had been accidentally killed by +Pinkertons during a "demonstration" of strikers. It invested the +saloon-keeper, in Presley's imagination, with all the dignity of +the tragedy. He could not blame Caraher for being a "red." He +even wondered how it was the saloon-keeper had not put his +theories into practice, and adjusted his ancient wrong with his +"six inches of plugged gas-pipe." Presley began to conceive of +the man as a "character." + +"You wait, Mr. Presley," the saloon-keeper had once said, when +Presley had protested against his radical ideas. "You don't know +the Railroad yet. Watch it and its doings long enough, and +you'll come over to my way of thinking, too." + +It was about half-past seven when Presley reached Bonneville. +The business part of the town was as yet hardly astir; he +despatched his manuscript, and then hurried to the office of the +"Mercury." Genslinger, as he feared, had not yet put in +appearance, but the janitor of the building gave Presley the +address of the editor's residence, and it was there he found him +in the act of sitting down to breakfast. Presley was hardly +courteous to the little man, and abruptly refused his offer of a +drink. He delivered Magnus's envelope to him and departed. + +It had occurred to him that it would not do to present himself at +Quien Sabe on Hilma's birthday, empty-handed, and, on leaving +Genslinger's house, he turned his pony's head toward the business +part of the town again pulling up in front of the jeweller's, +just as the clerk was taking down the shutters. + +At the jeweller's, he purchased a little brooch for Hilma and at +the cigar stand in the lobby of the Yosemite House, a box of +superfine cigars, which, when it was too late, he realised that +the master of Quien Sabe would never smoke, holding, as he did, +with defiant inconsistency, to miserable weeds, black, bitter, +and flagrantly doctored, which he bought, three for a nickel, at +Guadalajara. + +Presley arrived at Quien Sabe nearly half an hour behind the +appointed time; but, as he had expected, the party were in no way +ready to start. The carry-all, its horses covered with white +fly-nets, stood under a tree near the house, young Vacca dozing +on the seat. Hilma and Sidney, the latter exuberant with a +gayety that all but brought the tears to Presley's eyes, were +making sandwiches on the back porch. Mrs. Dyke was nowhere to be +seen, and Annixter was shaving himself in his bedroom. + +This latter put a half-lathered face out of the window as Presley +cantered through the gate, and waved his razor with a beckoning +motion. + +"Come on in, Pres," he cried. "Nobody's ready yet. You're hours +ahead of time." + +Presley came into the bedroom, his huge spur clinking on the +straw matting. Annixter was without coat, vest or collar, his +blue silk suspenders hung in loops over either hip, his hair was +disordered, the crown lock stiffer than ever. + +"Glad to see you, old boy," he announced, as Presley came in. +"No, don't shake hands, I'm all lather. Here, find a chair, will +you? I won't be long." + +"I thought you said ten o'clock," observed Presley, sitting down +on the edge of the bed. + +"Well, I did, but----" + +"But, then again, in a way, you didn't, hey?" his friend +interrupted. + +Annixter grunted good-humouredly, and turned to strop his razor. +Presley looked with suspicious disfavour at his suspenders. + +"Why is it," he observed, "that as soon as a man is about to get +married, he buys himself pale blue suspenders, silk ones? Think +of it. You, Buck Annixter, with sky-blue, silk suspenders. It +ought to be a strap and a nail." + +"Old fool," observed Annixter, whose repartee was the heaving of +brick bats. "Say," he continued, holding the razor from his +face, and jerking his head over his shoulder, while he looked at +Presley's reflection in his mirror; "say, look around. Isn't +this a nifty little room? We refitted the whole house, you know. +Notice she's all painted?" + +"I have been looking around," answered Presley, sweeping the room +with a series of glances. He forebore criticism. Annixter was +so boyishly proud of the effect that it would have been unkind to +have undeceived him. Presley looked at the marvellous, +department-store bed of brass, with its brave, gay canopy; the +mill-made wash-stand, with its pitcher and bowl of blinding red +and green china, the straw-framed lithographs of symbolic female +figures against the multi-coloured, new wall-paper; the +inadequate spindle chairs of white and gold; the sphere of tissue +paper hanging from the gas fixture, and the plumes of pampas +grass tacked to the wall at artistic angles, and overhanging two +astonishing oil paintings, in dazzling golden frames. + +"Say, how about those paintings, Pres?" inquired Annixter a +little uneasily. "I don't know whether they're good or not. +They were painted by a three-fingered Chinaman in Monterey, and I +got the lot for thirty dollars, frames thrown in. Why, I think +the frames alone are worth thirty dollars." + +"Well, so do I," declared Presley. He hastened to change the +subject. + +"Buck," he said, "I hear you've brought Mrs. Dyke and Sidney to +live with you. You know, I think that's rather white of you." + +"Oh, rot, Pres," muttered Annixter, turning abruptly to his +shaving. + +"And you can't fool me, either, old man," Presley continued. +"You're giving this picnic as much for Mrs. Dyke and the little +tad as you are for your wife, just to cheer them up a bit." + +"Oh, pshaw, you make me sick." + +"Well, that's the right thing to do, Buck, and I'm as glad for +your sake as I am for theirs. There was a time when you would +have let them all go to grass, and never so much as thought of +them. I don't want to seem to be officious, but you've changed +for the better, old man, and I guess I know why. She--" Presley +caught his friend's eye, and added gravely, "She's a good woman, +Buck." + +Annixter turned around abruptly, his face flushing under its +lather. + +"Pres," he exclaimed, "she's made a man of me. I was a machine +before, and if another man, or woman, or child got in my way, I +rode 'em down, and I never DREAMED of anybody else but myself. +But as soon as I woke up to the fact that I really loved her, +why, it was glory hallelujah all in a minute, and, in a way, I +kind of loved everybody then, and wanted to be everybody's +friend. And I began to see that a fellow can't live FOR himself +any more than he can live BY himself. He's got to think of +others. If he's got brains, he's got to think for the poor ducks +that haven't 'em, and not give 'em a boot in the backsides +because they happen to be stupid; and if he's got money, he's got +to help those that are busted, and if he's got a house, he's got +to think of those that ain't got anywhere to go. I've got a +whole lot of ideas since I began to love Hilma, and just as soon +as I can, I'm going to get in and HELP people, and I'm going to +keep to that idea the rest of my natural life. That ain't much +of a religion, but it's the best I've got, and Henry Ward Beecher +couldn't do any more than that. And it's all come about because +of Hilma, and because we cared for each other." + +Presley jumped up, and caught Annixter about the shoulders with +one arm, gripping his hand hard. This absurd figure, with +dangling silk suspenders, lathered chin, and tearful eyes, seemed +to be suddenly invested with true nobility. Beside this +blundering struggle to do right, to help his fellows, Presley's +own vague schemes, glittering systems of reconstruction, +collapsed to ruin, and he himself, with all his refinement, with +all his poetry, culture, and education, stood, a bungler at the +world's workbench. + +"You're all RIGHT, old man," he exclaimed, unable to think of +anything adequate. "You're all right. That's the way to talk, +and here, by the way, I brought you a box of cigars." + +Annixter stared as Presley laid the box on the edge of the +washstand. + +"Old fool," he remarked, "what in hell did you do that for?" + +"Oh, just for fun." + +"I suppose they're rotten stinkodoras, or you wouldn't give 'em +away." + +"This cringing gratitude--" Presley began. + +"Shut up," shouted Annixter, and the incident was closed. + +Annixter resumed his shaving, and Presley lit a cigarette. + +"Any news from Washington?" he queried. + +"Nothing that's any good," grunted Annixter. "Hello," he added, +raising his head, "there's somebody in a hurry for sure." + +The noise of a horse galloping so fast that the hoof-beats +sounded in one uninterrupted rattle, abruptly made itself heard. +The noise was coming from the direction of the road that led from +the Mission to Quien Sabe. With incredible swiftness, the hoof- +beats drew nearer. There was that in their sound which brought +Presley to his feet. Annixter threw open the window. + +"Runaway," exclaimed Presley. + +Annixter, with thoughts of the Railroad, and the "Jumping" of the +ranch, flung his hand to his hip pocket. + +"What is it, Vacca?" he cried. + +Young Vacca, turning in his seat in the carryall, was looking up +the road. All at once, he jumped from his place, and dashed +towards the window. +"Dyke," he shouted. "Dyke, it's Dyke." + +While the words were yet in his mouth, the sound of the hoof- +beats rose to a roar, and a great, bell-toned voice shouted: + +"Annixter, Annixter, Annixter!" + +It was Dyke's voice, and the next instant he shot into view in +the open square in front of the house. + +"Oh, my God!" cried Presley. + +The ex-engineer threw the horse on its haunches, springing from +the saddle; and, as he did so, the beast collapsed, shuddering, +to the ground. Annixter sprang from the window, and ran forward, +Presley following. + +There was Dyke, hatless, his pistol in his hand, a gaunt terrible +figure the beard immeasurably long, the cheeks fallen in, the +eyes sunken. His clothes ripped and torn by weeks of flight and +hiding in the chaparral, were ragged beyond words, the boots were +shreds of leather, bloody to the ankle with furious spurring. + +"Annixter," he shouted, and again, rolling his sunken eyes, +"Annixter, Annixter!" + +"Here, here," cried Annixter. + +The other turned, levelling his pistol. + +"Give me a horse, give me a horse, quick, do you hear? Give me a +horse, or I'll shoot." + +"Steady, steady. That won't do. You know me, Dyke. We're +friends here." + +The other lowered his weapon. + +"I know, I know," he panted. "I'd forgotten. I'm unstrung, Mr. +Annixter, and I'm running for my life. They're not ten minutes +behind me." + +"Come on, come on," shouted Annixter, dashing stablewards, his +suspenders flying. + +"Here's a horse." + +"Mine?" exclaimed Presley. "He wouldn't carry you a mile." + +Annixter was already far ahead, trumpeting orders. + +"The buckskin," he yelled. "Get her out, Billy. Where's the +stable-man? Get out that buckskin. Get out that saddle." + +Then followed minutes of furious haste, Presley, Annixter, Billy +the stable-man, and Dyke himself, darting hither and thither +about the yellow mare, buckling, strapping, cinching, their lips +pale, their fingers trembling with excitement. + +"Want anything to eat?" Annixter's head was under the saddle flap +as he tore at the cinch. "Want anything to eat? Want any money? +Want a gun?" + +"Water," returned Dyke. "They've watched every spring. I'm +killed with thirst." + +"There's the hydrant. Quick now." + +"I got as far as the Kern River, but they turned me back," he +said between breaths as he drank. + +"Don't stop to talk." + +"My mother, and the little tad----" + +"I'm taking care of them. They're stopping with me." + +Here? + +"You won't see 'em; by the Lord, you won't. You'll get away. +Where's that back cinch strap, BILLY? God damn it, are you going +to let him be shot before he can get away? Now, Dyke, up you go. +She'll kill herself running before they can catch you." + +"God bless you, Annixter. Where's the little tad? Is she well, +Annixter, and the mother? Tell them----" + +"Yes, yes, yes. All clear, Pres? Let her have her own gait, +Dyke. You're on the best horse in the county now. Let go her +head, Billy. Now, Dyke,--shake hands? You bet I will. That's +all right. Yes, God bless you. Let her go. You're OFF." + +Answering the goad of the spur, and already quivering with the +excitement of the men who surrounded her, the buckskin cleared +the stable-corral in two leaps; then, gathering her legs under +her, her head low, her neck stretched out, swung into the road +from out the driveway disappearing in a blur of dust. + +With the agility of a monkey, young Vacca swung himself into the +framework of the artesian well, clambering aloft to its very top. +He swept the country with a glance. + +"Well?" demanded Annixter from the ground. The others cocked +their heads to listen. + +"I see him; I see him!" shouted Vacca. "He's going like the +devil. He's headed for Guadalajara." + +"Look back, up the road, toward the Mission. Anything there?" + +The answer came down in a shout of apprehension. + +"There's a party of men. Three or four--on horse-back. There's +dogs with 'em. They're coming this way. Oh, I can hear the +dogs. And, say, oh, say, there's another party coming down the +Lower Road, going towards Guadalajara, too. They got guns. I +can see the shine of the barrels. And, oh, Lord, say, there's +three more men on horses coming down on the jump from the hills +on the Los Muertos stock range. They're making towards +Guadalajara. And I can hear the courthouse bell in Bonneville +ringing. Say, the whole county is up." + +As young Vacca slid down to the ground, two small black-and-tan +hounds, with flapping ears and lolling tongues, loped into view +on the road in front of the house. They were grey with dust, +their noses were to the ground. At the gate where Dyke had +turned into the ranch house grounds, they halted in confusion a +moment. One started to follow the highwayman's trail towards the +stable corral, but the other, quartering over the road with +lightning swiftness, suddenly picked up the new scent leading on +towards Guadalajara. He tossed his head in the air, and Presley +abruptly shut his hands over his ears. + +Ah, that terrible cry! deep-toned, reverberating like the +bourdon of a great bell. It was the trackers exulting on the +trail of the pursued, the prolonged, raucous howl, eager, +ominous, vibrating with the alarm of the tocsin, sullen with the +heavy muffling note of death. But close upon the bay of the +hounds, came the gallop of horses. Five men, their eyes upon the +hounds, their rifles across their pommels, their horses reeking +and black with sweat, swept by in a storm of dust, glinting +hoofs, and streaming manes. + +"That was Delaney's gang," exclaimed Annixter. "I saw him." + +"The other was that chap Christian," said Vacca, "S. Behrman's +cousin. He had two deputies with him; and the chap in the white +slouch hat was the sheriff from Visalia." + +"By the Lord, they aren't far behind," declared Annixter. + +As the men turned towards the house again they saw Hilma and Mrs. +Dyke in the doorway of the little house where the latter lived. +They were looking out, bewildered, ignorant of what had happened. +But on the porch of the Ranch house itself, alone, forgotten in +the excitement, Sidney--the little tad--stood, with pale face and +serious, wide-open eyes. She had seen everything, and had +understood. She said nothing. Her head inclined towards the +roadway, she listened to the faint and distant baying of the +dogs. + +Dyke thundered across the railway tracks by the depot at +Guadalajara not five minutes ahead of his pursuers. Luck seemed +to have deserted him. The station, usually so quiet, was now +occupied by the crew of a freight train that lay on the down +track; while on the up line, near at hand and headed in the same +direction, was a detached locomotive, whose engineer and fireman +recognized him, he was sure, as the buckskin leaped across the +rails. + +He had had no time to formulate a plan since that morning, when, +tortured with thirst, he had ventured near the spring at the +headwaters of Broderson Creek, on Quien Sabe, and had all but +fallen into the hands of the posse that had been watching for +that very move. It was useless now to regret that he had tried +to foil pursuit by turning back on his tracks to regain the +mountains east of Bonneville. Now Delaney was almost on him. To +distance that posse, was the only thing to be thought of now. It +was no longer a question of hiding till pursuit should flag; they +had driven him out from the shelter of the mountains, down into +this populous countryside, where an enemy might be met with at +every turn of the road. Now it was life or death. He would +either escape or be killed. He knew very well that he would +never allow himself to be taken alive. But he had no mind to be +killed--to turn and fight--till escape was blocked. His one +thought was to leave pursuit behind. + +Weeks of flight had sharpened Dyke's every sense. As he turned +into the Upper Road beyond Guadalajara, he saw the three men +galloping down from Derrick's stock range, making for the road +ahead of him. They would cut him off there. He swung the +buckskin about. He must take the Lower Road across Los Muertos +from Guadalajara, and he must reach it before Delaney's dogs and +posse. Back he galloped, the buckskin measuring her length with +every leap. Once more the station came in sight. Rising in his +stirrups, he looked across the fields in the direction of the +Lower Road. There was a cloud of dust there. From a wagon? No, +horses on the run, and their riders were armed! He could catch +the flash of gun barrels. They were all closing in on him, +converging on Guadalajara by every available road. The Upper +Road west of Guadalajara led straight to Bonneville. That way +was impossible. Was he in a trap? Had the time for fighting +come at last? + +But as Dyke neared the depot at Guadalajara, his eye fell upon +the detached locomotive that lay quietly steaming on the up line, +and with a thrill of exultation, he remembered that he was an +engineer born and bred. Delaney's dogs were already to be heard, +and the roll of hoofs on the Lower Road was dinning in his ears, +as he leaped from the buckskin before the depot. The train crew +scattered like frightened sheep before him, but Dyke ignored +them. His pistol was in his hand as, once more on foot, he +sprang toward the lone engine. + +"Out of the cab," he shouted. "Both of you. Quick, or I'll kill +you both." + +The two men tumbled from the iron apron of the tender as Dyke +swung himself up, dropping his pistol on the floor of the cab and +reaching with the old instinct for the familiar levers. +The great compound hissed and trembled as the steam was released, +and the huge drivers stirred, turning slowly on the tracks. But +there was a shout. Delaney's posse, dogs and men, swung into +view at the turn of the road, their figures leaning over as they +took the curve at full speed. Dyke threw everything wide open +and caught up his revolver. From behind came the challenge of a +Winchester. The party on the Lower Road were even closer than +Delaney. They had seen his manoeuvre, and the first shot of the +fight shivered the cab windows above the engineer's head. + +But spinning futilely at first, the drivers of the engine at last +caught the rails. The engine moved, advanced, travelled past the +depot and the freight train, and gathering speed, rolled out on +the track beyond. Smoke, black and boiling, shot skyward from +the stack; not a joint that did not shudder with the mighty +strain of the steam; hut the great iron brute--one of Baldwin's +newest and best--came to call, obedient and docile as soon as +ever the great pulsing heart of it felt a master hand upon its +levers. It gathered its speed, bracing its steel muscles, its +thews of iron, and roared out upon the open track, filling the +air with the rasp of its tempest-breath, blotting the sunshine +with the belch of its hot, thick smoke. Already it was lessening +in the distance, when Delaney, Christian, and the sheriff of +Visalia dashed up to the station. + +The posse had seen everything. + +"Stuck. Curse the luck!" vociferated the cow-Puncher. + +But the sheriff was already out of the saddle and into the +telegraph office. + +"There's a derailing switch between here and Pixley, isn't +there?" he cried. + +"Yes." + +"Wire ahead to open it. We'll derail him there. Come on;" he +turned to Delaney and the others. They sprang into the cab of +the locomotive that was attached to the freight train. + +"Name of the State of California," shouted the sheriff to the +bewildered engineer. "Cut off from your train." + +The sheriff was a man to be obeyed without hesitating. Time was +not allowed the crew of the freight train for debating as to the +right or the wrong of requisitioning the engine, and before +anyone thought of the safety or danger of the affair, the freight +engine was already flying out upon the down line, hot in pursuit +of Dyke, now far ahead upon the up track. + +"I remember perfectly well there's a derailing switch between +here and Pixley," shouted the sheriff above the roar of the +locomotive. "They use it in case they have to derail runaway +engines. It runs right off into the country. We'll pile him up +there. Ready with your guns, boys." + +"If we should meet another train coming up on this track----" +protested the frightened engineer. + +"Then we'd jump or be smashed. Hi! look! There he is." As the +freight engine rounded a curve, Dyke's engine came into view, +shooting on some quarter of a mile ahead of them, wreathed in +whirling smoke. + +"The switch ain't much further on," clamoured the engineer. "You +can see Pixley now." + +Dyke, his hand on the grip of the valve that controlled the +steam, his head out of the cab window, thundered on. He was back +in his old place again; once more he was the engineer; once more +he felt the engine quiver under him; the familiar noises were in +his ears; the familiar buffeting of the wind surged, roaring at +his face; the familiar odours of hot steam and smoke reeked in +his nostrils, and on either side of him, parallel panoramas, the +two halves of the landscape sliced, as it were, in two by the +clashing wheels of his engine, streamed by in green and brown +blurs. + +He found himself settling to the old position on the cab seat, +leaning on his elbow from the window, one hand on the controller. +All at once, the instinct of the pursuit that of late had become +so strong within him, prompted him to shoot a glance behind. He +saw the other engine on the down line, plunging after him, +rocking from side to side with the fury of its gallop. Not yet +had he shaken the trackers from his heels; not yet was he out of +the reach of danger. He set his teeth and, throwing open the +fire-door, stoked vigorously for a few moments. The indicator of +the steam gauge rose; his speed increased; a glance at the +telegraph poles told him he was doing his fifty miles an hour. +The freight engine behind him was never built for that pace. +Barring the terrible risk of accident, his chances were good. + +But suddenly--the engineer dominating the highway-man--he shut +off his steam and threw back his brake to the extreme notch. +Directly ahead of him rose a semaphore, placed at a point where +evidently a derailing switch branched from the line. The +semaphore's arm was dropped over the track, setting the danger +signal that showed the switch was open. + +In an instant, Dyke saw the trick. They had meant to smash him +here; had been clever enough, quick-witted enough to open the +switch, but had forgotten the automatic semaphore that worked +simultaneously with the movement of the rails. To go forward was +certain destruction. Dyke reversed. There was nothing for it +but to go back. With a wrench and a spasm of all its metal +fibres, the great compound braced itself, sliding with rigid +wheels along the rails. Then, as Dyke applied the reverse, it +drew back from the greater danger, returning towards the less. +Inevitably now the two engines, one on the up, the other on the +down line, must meet and pass each other. + +Dyke released the levers, reaching for his revolver. The +engineer once more became the highwayman, in peril of his life. +Now, beyond all doubt, the time for fighting was at hand. + +The party in the heavy freight engine, that lumbered after in +pursuit, their eyes fixed on the smudge of smoke on ahead that +marked the path of the fugitive, suddenly raised a shout. + +"He's stopped. He's broke down. Watch, now, and see if he jumps +off." + +"Broke NOTHING. HE'S COMING BACK. Ready, now, he's got to pass +us." + +The engineer applied the brakes, but the heavy freight +locomotive, far less mobile than Dyke's flyer, was slow to obey. +The smudge on the rails ahead grew swiftly larger. + +"He's coming. He's coming--look out, there's a shot. He's +shooting already." + +A bright, white sliver of wood leaped into the air from the sooty +window sill of the cab. + +"Fire on him! Fire on him!" + +While the engines were yet two hundred yards apart, the duel +began, shot answering shot, the sharp staccato reports +punctuating the thunder of wheels and the clamour of steam. + +Then the ground trembled and rocked; a roar as of heavy ordnance +developed with the abruptness of an explosion. The two engines +passed each other, the men firing the while, emptying their +revolvers, shattering wood, shivering glass, the bullets clanging +against the metal work as they struck and struck and struck. The +men leaned from the cabs towards each other, frantic with +excitement, shouting curses, the engines rocking, the steam +roaring; confusion whirling in the scene like the whirl of a +witch's dance, the white clouds of steam, the black eddies from +the smokestack, the blue wreaths from the hot mouths of +revolvers, swirling together in a blinding maze of vapour, +spinning around them, dazing them, dizzying them, while the head +rang with hideous clamour and the body twitched and trembled with +the leap and jar of the tumult of machinery. + +Roaring, clamouring, reeking with the smell of powder and hot +oil, spitting death, resistless, huge, furious, an abrupt vision +of chaos, faces, rage-distorted, peering through smoke, hands +gripping outward from sudden darkness, prehensile, malevolent; +terrible as thunder, swift as lightning, the two engines met and +passed. + +"He's hit," cried Delaney. "I know I hit him. He can't go far +now. After him again. He won't dare go through Bonneville." + +It was true. Dyke had stood between cab and tender throughout +all the duel, exposed, reckless, thinking only of attack and not +of defence, and a bullet from one of the pistols had grazed his +hip. How serious was the wound he did not know, but he had no +thought of giving up. He tore back through the depot at +Guadalajara in a storm of bullets, and, clinging to the broken +window ledge of his cab, was carried towards Bonneville, on over +the Long Trestle and Broderson Creek and through the open country +between the two ranches of Los Muertos and Quien Sabe. + +But to go on to Bonneville meant certain death. Before, as well +as behind him, the roads were now blocked. Once more he thought +of the mountains. He resolved to abandon the engine and make +another final attempt to get into the shelter of the hills in the +northernmost corner of Quien Sabe. He set his teeth. He would +not give in. There was one more fight left in him yet. Now to +try the final hope. + +He slowed the engine down, and, reloading his revolver, jumped +from the platform to the road. He looked about him, listening. +All around him widened an ocean of wheat. There was no one in +sight. + +The released engine, alone, unattended, drew slowly away from +him, jolting ponderously over the rail joints. As he watched it +go, a certain indefinite sense of abandonment, even in that +moment, came over Dyke. His last friend, that also had been his +first, was leaving him. He remembered that day, long ago, when +he had opened the throttle of his first machine. To-day, it was +leaving him alone, his last friend turning against him. Slowly +it was going back towards Bonneville, to the shops of the +Railroad, the camp of the enemy, that enemy that had ruined him +and wrecked him. For the last time in his life, he had been the +engineer. Now, once more, he became the highwayman, the outlaw +against whom all hands were raised, the fugitive skulking in the +mountains, listening for the cry of dogs. + +But he would not give in. They had not broken him yet. Never, +while he could fight, would he allow S. Behrman the triumph of +his capture. + +He found his wound was not bad. He plunged into the wheat on +Quien Sabe, making northward for a division house that rose with +its surrounding trees out of the wheat like an island. He +reached it, the blood squelching in his shoes. But the sight of +two men, Portuguese farm-hands, staring at him from an angle of +the barn, abruptly roused him to action. He sprang forward with +peremptory commands, demanding a horse. + +At Guadalajara, Delaney and the sheriff descended from the +freight engine. + +"Horses now," declared the sheriff. "He won't go into +Bonneville, that's certain. He'll leave the engine between here +and there, and strike off into the country. We'll follow after +him now in the saddle. Soon as he leaves his engine, HE'S on +foot. We've as good as got him now." + +Their horses, including even the buckskin mare that Dyke had +ridden, were still at the station. The party swung themselves +up, Delaney exclaiming, "Here's MY mount," as he bestrode the +buckskin. + +At Guadalajara, the two bloodhounds were picked up again. Urging +the jaded horses to a gallop, the party set off along the Upper +Road, keeping a sharp lookout to right and left for traces of +Dyke's abandonment of the engine. + +Three miles beyond the Long Trestle, they found S. Behrman +holding his saddle horse by the bridle, and looking attentively +at a trail that had been broken through the standing wheat on +Quien Sabe. The party drew rein. + +"The engine passed me on the tracks further up, and empty," said +S. Behrman. "Boys, I think he left her here." + +But before anyone could answer, the bloodhounds gave tongue +again, as they picked up the scent. + +"That's him," cried S. Behrman. "Get on, boys." + +They dashed forward, following the hounds. S. Behrman +laboriously climbed to his saddle, panting, perspiring, mopping +the roll of fat over his coat collar, and turned in after them, +trotting along far in the rear, his great stomach and tremulous +jowl shaking with the horse's gait. + +"What a day," he murmured. "What a day." + +Dyke's trail was fresh, and was followed as easily as if made on +new-fallen snow. In a short time, the posse swept into the open +space around the division house. The two Portuguese were still +there, wide-eyed, terribly excited. + +Yes, yes, Dyke had been there not half an hour since, had held +them up, taken a horse and galloped to the northeast, towards the +foothills at the headwaters of Broderson Creek. + +On again, at full gallop, through the young wheat, trampling it +under the flying hoofs; the hounds hot on the scent, baying +continually; the men, on fresh mounts, secured at the division +house, bending forward in their saddles, spurring relentlessly. +S. Behrman jolted along far in the rear. + +And even then, harried through an open country, where there was +no place to hide, it was a matter of amazement how long a chase +the highwayman led them. Fences were passed; fences whose barbed +wire had been slashed apart by the fugitive's knife. The ground +rose under foot; the hills were at hand; still the pursuit held +on. The sun, long past the meridian, began to turn earthward. +Would night come on before they were up with him? + +"Look! Look! There he is! Quick, there he goes!" + +High on the bare slope of the nearest hill, all the posse, +looking in the direction of Delaney's gesture, saw the figure of +a horseman emerge from an arroyo, filled with chaparral, and +struggle at a labouring gallop straight up the slope. Suddenly, +every member of the party shouted aloud. The horse had fallen, +pitching the rider from the saddle. The man rose to his feet, +caught at the bridle, missed it and the horse dashed on alone. +The man, pausing for a second looked around, saw the chase +drawing nearer, then, turning back, disappeared in the chaparral. +Delaney raised a great whoop. + +"We've got you now." +Into the slopes and valleys of the hills dashed the band of +horsemen, the trail now so fresh that it could be easily +discerned by all. On and on it led them, a furious, wild +scramble straight up the slopes. The minutes went by. The dry +bed of a rivulet was passed; then another fence; then a tangle of +manzanita; a meadow of wild oats, full of agitated cattle; then +an arroyo, thick with chaparral and scrub oaks, and then, without +warning, the pistol shots ripped out and ran from rider to rider +with the rapidity of a gatling discharge, and one of the deputies +bent forward in the saddle, both hands to his face, the blood +jetting from between his fingers. + +Dyke was there, at bay at last, his back against a bank of rock, +the roots of a fallen tree serving him as a rampart, his revolver +smoking in his hand. + +"You're under arrest, Dyke," cried the sheriff. "It's not the +least use to fight. The whole country is up." + +Dyke fired again, the shot splintering the foreleg of the horse +the sheriff rode. + +The posse, four men all told--the wounded deputy having crawled +out of the fight after Dyke's first shot--fell back after the +preliminary fusillade, dismounted, and took shelter behind rocks +and trees. On that rugged ground, fighting from the saddle was +impracticable. Dyke, in the meanwhile, held his fire, for he +knew that, once his pistol was empty, he would never be allowed +time to reload. + +"Dyke," called the sheriff again, "for the last time, I summon +you to surrender." + +Dyke did not reply. The sheriff, Delaney, and the man named +Christian conferred together in a low voice. Then Delaney and +Christian left the others, making a wide detour up the sides of +the arroyo, to gain a position to the left and somewhat to the +rear of Dyke. + +But it was at this moment that S. Behrman arrived. It could not +be said whether it was courage or carelessness that brought the +Railroad's agent within reach of Dyke's revolver. Possibly he +was really a brave man; possibly occupied with keeping an +uncertain seat upon the back of his labouring, scrambling horse, +he had not noticed that he was so close upon that scene of +battle. He certainly did not observe the posse lying upon the +ground behind sheltering rocks and trees, and before anyone could +call a warning, he had ridden out into the open, within thirty +paces of Dyke's intrenchment. + +Dyke saw. There was the arch-enemy; the man of all men whom he +most hated; the man who had ruined him, who had exasperated him +and driven him to crime, and who had instigated tireless pursuit +through all those past terrible weeks. Suddenly, inviting death, +he leaped up and forward; he had forgotten all else, all other +considerations, at the sight of this man. He would die, gladly, +so only that S. Behrman died before him. + +"I've got YOU, anyway," he shouted, as he ran forward. + +The muzzle of the weapon was not ten feet from S. Behrman's huge +stomach as Dyke drew the trigger. Had the cartridge exploded, +death, certain and swift, would have followed, but at this, of +all moments, the revolver missed fire. + +S. Behrman, with an unexpected agility, leaped from the saddle, +and, keeping his horse between him and Dyke, ran, dodging and +ducking, from tree to tree. His first shot a failure, Dyke fired +again and again at his enemy, emptying his revolver, reckless of +consequences. His every shot went wild, and before he could draw +his knife, the whole posse was upon him. + +Without concerted plans, obeying no signal but the promptings of +the impulse that snatched, unerring, at opportunity--the men, +Delaney and Christian from one side, the sheriff and the deputy +from the other, rushed in. They did not fire. It was Dyke alive +they wanted. One of them had a riata snatched from a saddle- +pommel, and with this they tried to bind him. + +The fight was four to one--four men with law on their side, to +one wounded freebooter, half-starved, exhausted by days and +nights of pursuit, worn down with loss of sleep, thirst, +privation, and the grinding, nerve-racking consciousness of an +ever-present peril. + +They swarmed upon him from all sides, gripping at his legs, at +his arms, his throat, his head, striking, clutching, kicking, +falling to the ground, rolling over and over, now under, now +above, now staggering forward, now toppling back. +Still Dyke fought. Through that scrambling, struggling group, +through that maze of twisting bodies, twining arms, straining +legs, S. Behrman saw him from moment to moment, his face flaming, +his eyes bloodshot, his hair matted with sweat. Now he was down, +pinned under, two men across his legs, and now half-way up again, +struggling to one knee. Then upright again, with half his +enemies hanging on his back. His colossal strength seemed +doubled; when his arms were held, he fought bull-like with his +head. A score of times, it seemed as if they were about to +secure him finally and irrevocably, and then he would free an +arm, a leg, a shoulder, and the group that, for the fraction of +an instant, had settled, locked and rigid, on its prey, would +break up again as he flung a man from him, reeling and bloody, +and he himself twisting, squirming, dodging, his great fists +working like pistons, backed away, dragging and carrying the +others with him. + +More than once, he loosened almost every grip, and for an instant +stood nearly free, panting, rolling his eyes, his clothes torn +from his body, bleeding, dripping with sweat, a terrible figure, +nearly free. The sheriff, under his breath, uttered an +exclamation: + +"By God, he'll get away yet." + +S. Behrman watched the fight complacently. + +"That all may show obstinacy," he commented, "but it don't show +common sense." + +Yet, however Dyke might throw off the clutches and fettering +embraces that encircled him, however he might disintegrate and +scatter the band of foes that heaped themselves upon him, however +he might gain one instant of comparative liberty, some one of his +assailants always hung, doggedly, blindly to an arm, a leg, or a +foot, and the others, drawing a second's breath, closed in again, +implacable, unconquerable, ferocious, like hounds upon a wolf. + +At length, two of the men managed to bring Dyke's wrists close +enough together to allow the sheriff to snap the handcuffs on. +Even then, Dyke, clasping his hands, and using the handcuffs +themselves as a weapon, knocked down Delaney by the crushing +impact of the steel bracelets upon the cow-puncher's forehead. +But he could no longer protect himself from attacks from behind, +and the riata was finally passed around his body, pinioning his +arms to his sides. After this it was useless to resist. + +The wounded deputy sat with his back to a rock, holding his +broken jaw in both hands. The sheriff's horse, with its +splintered foreleg, would have to be shot. Delaney's head was +cut from temple to cheekbone. The right wrist of the sheriff was +all but dislocated. The other deputy was so exhausted he had to +be helped to his horse. But Dyke was taken. + +He himself had suddenly lapsed into semi-unconsciousness, unable +to walk. They sat him on the buckskin, S. Behrman supporting +him, the sheriff, on foot, leading the horse by the bridle. The +little procession formed, and descended from the hills, turning +in the direction of Bonneville. A special train, one car and an +engine, would be made up there, and the highwayman would sleep in +the Visalia jail that night. + +Delaney and S. Behrman found themselves in the rear of the +cavalcade as it moved off. The cow-puncher turned to his chief: + +"Well, captain," he said, still panting, as he bound up his +forehead; "well--we GOT him." + + + +VI + + +Osterman cut his wheat that summer before any of the other +ranchers, and as soon as his harvest was over organized a jack- +rabbit drive. Like Annixter's barn-dance, it was to be an event +in which all the country-side should take part. The drive was to +begin on the most western division of the Osterman ranch, whence +it would proceed towards the southeast, crossing into the +northern part of Quien Sabe--on which Annixter had sown no wheat-- +and ending in the hills at the headwaters of Broderson Creek, +where a barbecue was to be held. + +Early on the morning of the day of the drive, as Harran and +Presley were saddling their horses before the stables on Los +Muertos, the foreman, Phelps, remarked: + +"I was into town last night, and I hear that Christian has been +after Ruggles early and late to have him put him in possession +here on Los Muertos, and Delaney is doing the same for Quien +Sabe." + +It was this man Christian, the real estate broker, and cousin of +S. Behrman, one of the main actors in the drama of Dyke's +capture, who had come forward as a purchaser of Los Muertos when +the Railroad had regraded its holdings on the ranches around +Bonneville. + +"He claims, of course," Phelps went on, "that when he bought Los +Muertos of the Railroad he was guaranteed possession, and he +wants the place in time for the harvest." + +"That's almost as thin," muttered Harran as he thrust the bit +into his horse's mouth. "as Delaney buying Annixter's Home +ranch. That slice of Quien Sabe, according to the Railroad's +grading, is worth about ten thousand dollars; yes, even fifteen, +and I don't believe Delaney is worth the price of a good horse. +Why, those people don't even try to preserve appearances. Where +would Christian find the money to buy Los Muertos? There's no +one man in all Bonneville rich enough to do it. Damned rascals! +as if we didn't see that Christian and Delaney are S. Behrman's +right and left hands. Well, he'll get 'em cut off," he cried +with sudden fierceness, "if he comes too near the machine." + +"How is it, Harran," asked Presley as the two young men rode out +of the stable yard, "how is it the Railroad gang can do anything +before the Supreme Court hands down a decision?" + +"Well, you know how they talk," growled Harran. "They have +claimed that the cases taken up to the Supreme Court were not +test cases as WE claim they ARE, and that because neither +Annixter nor the Governor appealed, they've lost their cases by +default. It's the rottenest kind of sharp practice, but it won't +do any good. The League is too strong. They won't dare move on +us yet awhile. Why, Pres, the moment they'd try to jump any of +these ranches around here, they would have six hundred rifles +cracking at them as quick as how-do-you-do. Why, it would take a +regiment of U. S. soldiers to put any one of us off our land. +No, sir; they know the League means business this time." + +As Presley and Harran trotted on along the county road they +continually passed or overtook other horsemen, or buggies, carry- +alls, buck-boards or even farm wagons, going in the same +direction. These were full of the farming people from all the +country round about Bonneville, on their way to the rabbit drive-- +the same people seen at the barn-dance--in their Sunday finest, +the girls in muslin frocks and garden hats, the men with linen +dusters over their black clothes; the older women in prints and +dotted calicoes. Many of these latter had already taken off +their bonnets--the day was very hot--and pinning them in +newspapers, stowed them under the seats. They tucked their +handkerchiefs into the collars of their dresses, or knotted them +about their fat necks, to keep out the dust. From the axle trees +of the vehicles swung carefully covered buckets of galvanised +iron, in which the lunch was packed. The younger children, the +boys with great frilled collars, the girls with ill-fitting shoes +cramping their feet, leaned from the sides of buggy and carry- +all, eating bananas and "macaroons," staring about with ox-like +stolidity. Tied to the axles, the dogs followed the horses' +hoofs with lolling tongues coated with dust. + +The California summer lay blanket-wise and smothering over all +the land. The hills, bone-dry, were browned and parched. The +grasses and wild-oats, sear and yellow, snapped like glass +filaments under foot. The roads, the bordering fences, even the +lower leaves and branches of the trees, were thick and grey with +dust. All colour had been burned from the landscape, except in +the irrigated patches, that in the waste of brown and dull yellow +glowed like oases. + +The wheat, now close to its maturity, had turned from pale yellow +to golden yellow, and from that to brown. Like a gigantic +carpet, it spread itself over all the land. There was nothing +else to be seen but the limitless sea of wheat as far as the eye +could reach, dry, rustling, crisp and harsh in the rare breaths +of hot wind out of the southeast. +As Harran and Presley went along the county road, the number of +vehicles and riders increased. They overtook and passed Hooven +and his family in the former's farm wagon, a saddled horse tied +to the back board. The little Dutchman, wearing the old frock +coat of Magnus Derrick, and a new broad-brimmed straw hat, sat on +the front seat with Mrs. Hooven. The little girl Hilda, and the +older daughter Minna, were behind them on a board laid across the +sides of the wagon. Presley and Harran stopped to shake hands. +"Say," cried Hooven, exhibiting an old, but extremely well kept, +rifle, "say, bei Gott, me, I tek some schatz at dose rebbit, you +bedt. Ven he hef shtop to run und sit oop soh, bei der hind +laigs on, I oop mit der guhn und--bing! I cetch um." + +"The marshals won't allow you to shoot, Bismarck," observed +Presley, looking at Minna. + +Hooven doubled up with merriment. + +"Ho! dot's hell of some fine joak. Me, I'M ONE OAF DOSE +MAIRSCHELL MINE-SELLUF," he roared with delight, beating his +knee. To his notion, the joke was irresistible. All day long, +he could be heard repeating it. "Und Mist'r Praicelie, he say, +'Dose mairschell woand led you schoot, Bismarck,' und ME, ach +Gott, ME, aindt I mine-selluf one oaf dose mairschell?" + +As the two friends rode on, Presley had in his mind the image of +Minna Hooven, very pretty in a clean gown of pink gingham, a +cheap straw sailor hat from a Bonneville store on her blue black +hair. He remembered her very pale face, very red lips and eyes +of greenish blue,--a pretty girl certainly, always trailing a +group of men behind her. Her love affairs were the talk of all +Los Muertos. + +"I hope that Hooven girl won't go to the bad," Presley said to +Harran. + +"Oh, she's all right," the other answered. "There's nothing +vicious about Minna, and I guess she'll marry that foreman on the +ditch gang, right enough." + +"Well, as a matter of course, she's a good girl," Presley +hastened to reply, "only she's too pretty for a poor girl, and +too sure of her prettiness besides. That's the kind," he +continued, "who would find it pretty easy to go wrong if they +lived in a city." + +Around Caraher's was a veritable throng. Saddle horses and +buggies by the score were clustered underneath the shed or +hitched to the railings in front of the watering trough. Three +of Broderson's Portuguese tenants and a couple of workmen from +the railroad shops in Bonneville were on the porch, already very +drunk. + +Continually, young men, singly or in groups, came from the door- +way, wiping their lips with sidelong gestures of the hand. The +whole place exhaled the febrile bustle of the saloon on a holiday +morning. + +The procession of teams streamed on through Bonneville, +reenforced at every street corner. Along the Upper Road from +Quien Sabe and Guadalajara came fresh auxiliaries, Spanish- +Mexicans from the town itself,--swarthy young men on capering +horses, dark-eyed girls and matrons, in red and black and yellow, +more Portuguese in brand-new overalls, smoking long thin cigars. +Even Father Sarria appeared. + +"Look," said Presley, "there goes Annixter and Hilma. He's got +his buckskin back." The master of Quien Sabe, in top laced boots +and campaign hat, a cigar in his teeth, followed along beside the +carry-all. Hilma and Mrs. Derrick were on the back seat, young +Vacca driving. Harran and Presley bowed, taking off their hats. + +"Hello, hello, Pres," cried Annixter, over the heads of the +intervening crowd, standing up in his stirrups and waving a hand, +"Great day! What a mob, hey? Say when this thing is over and +everybody starts to walk into the barbecue, come and have lunch +with us. I'll look for you, you and Harran. Hello, Harran, +where's the Governor?" + +"He didn't come to-day," Harran shouted back, as the crowd +carried him further away from Annixter. "Left him and old +Broderson at Los Muertos." + +The throng emerged into the open country again, spreading out +upon the Osterman ranch. From all directions could be seen +horses and buggies driving across the stubble, converging upon +the rendezvous. Osterman's Ranch house was left to the eastward; +the army of the guests hurrying forward--for it began to be late-- +to where around a flag pole, flying a red flag, a vast crowd of +buggies and horses was already forming. The marshals began to +appear. Hooven, descending from the farm wagon, pinned his white +badge to his hat brim and mounted his horse. Osterman, in +marvellous riding clothes of English pattern, galloped up and +down upon his best thoroughbred, cracking jokes with everybody, +chaffing, joshing, his great mouth distended in a perpetual grin +of amiability. + +"Stop here, stop here," he vociferated, dashing along in front of +Presley and Harran, waving his crop. The procession came to a +halt, the horses' heads pointing eastward. The line began to be +formed. The marshals perspiring, shouting, fretting, galloping +about, urging this one forward, ordering this one back, ranged +the thousands of conveyances and cavaliers in a long line, shaped +like a wide open crescent. Its wings, under the command of +lieutenants, were slightly advanced. Far out before its centre +Osterman took his place, delighted beyond expression at his +conspicuousness, posing for the gallery, making his horse dance. + +"Wail, aindt dey gowun to gommence den bretty soohn," exclaimed +Mrs. Hooven, who had taken her husband's place on the forward +seat of the wagon. + +"I never was so warm," murmured Minna, fanning herself with her +hat. All seemed in readiness. For miles over the flat expanse +of stubble, curved the interminable lines of horses and vehicles. +At a guess, nearly five thousand people were present. The drive +was one of the largest ever held. But no start was made; +immobilized, the vast crescent stuck motionless under the blazing +sun. Here and there could be heard voices uplifted in jocular +remonstrance. + +"Oh, I say, get a move on, somebody." + +"ALL aboard." + +"Say, I'll take root here pretty soon." + +Some took malicious pleasure in starting false alarms. + +"Ah, HERE we go." + +"Off, at last." + +"We're off." + +Invariably these jokes fooled some one in the line. An old man, +or some old woman, nervous, hard of hearing, always gathered up +the reins and started off, only to be hustled and ordered back +into the line by the nearest marshal. This manoeuvre never +failed to produce its effect of hilarity upon those near at hand. +Everybody laughed at the blunderer, the joker jeering audibly. + +"Hey, come back here." + +"Oh, he's easy." + +"Don't be in a hurry, Grandpa." + +"Say, you want to drive all the rabbits yourself." + +Later on, a certain group of these fellows started a huge "josh." + +"Say, that's what we're waiting for, the 'do-funny.'" + +"The do-funny?" + +"Sure, you can't drive rabbits without the 'do-funny.'" + +"What's the do-funny?" + +"Oh, say, she don't know what the do-funny is. We can't start +without it, sure. Pete went back to get it." + +"Oh, you're joking me, there's no such thing." + +"Well, aren't we WAITING for it?" + +"Oh, look, look," cried some women in a covered rig. "See, they +are starting already 'way over there." + +In fact, it did appear as if the far extremity of the line was in +motion. Dust rose in the air above it. + +"They ARE starting. Why don't we start?" + +"No, they've stopped. False alarm." + +"They've not, either. Why don't we move?" + +But as one or two began to move off, the nearest marshal shouted +wrathfully: + +"Get back there, get back there." + +"Well, they've started over there." + +"Get back, I tell you." + +"Where's the 'do-funny?'" + +"Say, we're going to miss it all. They've all started over +there." + +A lieutenant came galloping along in front of the line, shouting: + +"Here, what's the matter here? Why don't you start?" + +There was a great shout. Everybody simultaneously uttered a +prolonged "Oh-h." + +"We're off." + +"Here we go for sure this time." + +"Remember to keep the alignment," roared the lieutenant. "Don't +go too fast." + +And the marshals, rushing here and there on their sweating horses +to points where the line bulged forward, shouted, waving their +arms: "Not too fast, not too fast....Keep back here....Here, keep +closer together here. Do you want to let all the rabbits run +back between you?" + +A great confused sound rose into the air,--the creaking of axles, +the jolt of iron tires over the dry clods, the click of brittle +stubble under the horses' hoofs, the barking of dogs, the shouts +of conversation and laughter. + +The entire line, horses, buggies, wagons, gigs, dogs, men and +boys on foot, and armed with clubs, moved slowly across the +fields, sending up a cloud of white dust, that hung above the +scene like smoke. A brisk gaiety was in the air. Everyone was +in the best of humor, calling from team to team, laughing, +skylarking, joshing. Garnett, of the Ruby Rancho, and Gethings, +of the San Pablo, both on horseback, found themselves side by +side. Ignoring the drive and the spirit of the occasion, they +kept up a prolonged and serious conversation on an expected rise +in the price of wheat. Dabney, also on horseback, followed them, +listening attentively to every word, but hazarding no remark. + +Mrs. Derrick and Hilma sat in the back seat of the carry-all, +behind young Vacca. Mrs. Derrick, a little disturbed by such a +great concourse of people, frightened at the idea of the killing +of so many rabbits, drew back in her place, her young-girl eyes +troubled and filled with a vague distress. Hilma, very much +excited, leaned from the carry-all, anxious to see everything, +watching for rabbits, asking innumerable questions of Annixter, +who rode at her side. + +The change that had been progressing in Hilma, ever since the +night of the famous barn-dance, now seemed to be approaching its +climax; first the girl, then the woman, last of all the Mother. +Conscious dignity, a new element in her character, developed. +The shrinking, the timidity of the girl just awakening to the +consciousness of sex, passed away from her. The confusion, the +troublous complexity of the woman, a mystery even to herself, +disappeared. Motherhood dawned, the old simplicity of her maiden +days came back to her. It was no longer a simplicity of +ignorance, but of supreme knowledge, the simplicity of the +perfect, the simplicity of greatness. She looked the world +fearlessly in the eyes. At last, the confusion of her ideas, +like frightened birds, re-settling, adjusted itself, and she +emerged from the trouble calm, serene, entering into her divine +right, like a queen into the rule of a realm of perpetual peace. + +And with this, with the knowledge that the crown hung poised +above her head, there came upon Hilma a gentleness infinitely +beautiful, infinitely pathetic; a sweetness that touched all who +came near her with the softness of a caress. She moved +surrounded by an invisible atmosphere of Love. Love was in her +wide-opened brown eyes, Love--the dim reflection of that +descending crown poised over her head--radiated in a faint lustre +from her dark, thick hair. Around her beautiful neck, sloping to +her shoulders with full, graceful curves, Love lay encircled like +a necklace--Love that was beyond words, sweet, breathed from her +parted lips. From her white, large arms downward to her pink +finger-tips--Love, an invisible electric fluid, disengaged +itself, subtle, alluring. In the velvety huskiness of her voice, +Love vibrated like a note of unknown music. + +Annixter, her uncouth, rugged husband, living in this influence +of a wife, who was also a mother, at all hours touched to the +quick by this sense of nobility, of gentleness and of love, the +instincts of a father already clutching and tugging at his heart, +was trembling on the verge of a mighty transformation. The +hardness and inhumanity of the man was fast breaking up. One +night, returning late to the Ranch house, after a compulsory +visit to the city, he had come upon Hilma asleep. He had never +forgotten that night. A realization of his boundless happiness +in this love he gave and received, the thought that Hilma TRUSTED +him, a knowledge of his own unworthiness, a vast and humble +thankfulness that his God had chosen him of all men for this +great joy, had brought him to his knees for the first time in all +his troubled, restless life of combat and aggression. He prayed, +he knew not what,--vague words, wordless thoughts, resolving +fiercely to do right, to make some return for God's gift thus +placed within his hands. + +Where once Annixter had thought only of himself, he now thought +only of Hilma. The time when this thought of another should +broaden and widen into thought of OTHERS, was yet to come; but +already it had expanded to include the unborn child--already, as +in the case of Mrs. Dyke, it had broadened to enfold another +child and another mother bound to him by no ties other than those +of humanity and pity. In time, starting from this point it would +reach out more and more till it should take in all men and all +women, and the intolerant selfish man, while retaining all of his +native strength, should become tolerant and generous, kind and +forgiving. + +For the moment, however, the two natures struggled within him. A +fight was to be fought, one more, the last, the fiercest, the +attack of the enemy who menaced his very home and hearth, was to +be resisted. Then, peace attained, arrested development would +once more proceed. + +Hilma looked from the carry-all, scanning the open plain in front +of the advancing line of the drive. + +"Where are the rabbits?" she asked of Annixter. "I don't see any +at all." + +"They are way ahead of us yet," he said. "Here, take the +glasses." + +He passed her his field glasses, and she adjusted them. + +"Oh, yes," she cried, "I see. I can see five or six, but oh, so +far off." + +"The beggars run 'way ahead, at first." + +"I should say so. See them run,--little specks. Every now and +then they sit up, their ears straight up, in the air." + +"Here, look, Hilma, there goes one close by." + +From out of the ground apparently, some twenty yards distant, a +great jack sprang into view, bounding away with tremendous leaps, +his black-tipped ears erect. He disappeared, his grey body +losing itself against the grey of the ground. + +"Oh, a big fellow." + +"Hi, yonder's another." + +"Yes, yes, oh, look at him run." +From off the surface of the ground, at first apparently empty of +all life, and seemingly unable to afford hiding place for so much +as a field-mouse, jack-rabbits started up at every moment as the +line went forward. At first, they appeared singly and at long +intervals; then in twos and threes, as the drive continued to +advance. They leaped across the plain, and stopped in the +distance, sitting up with straight ears, then ran on again, were +joined by others; sank down flush to the soil--their ears +flattened; started up again, ran to the side, turned back once +more, darted away with incredible swiftness, and were lost to +view only to be replaced by a score of others. + +Gradually, the number of jacks to be seen over the expanse of +stubble in front of the line of teams increased. Their antics +were infinite. No two acted precisely alike. Some lay +stubbornly close in a little depression between two clods, till +the horses' hoofs were all but upon them, then sprang out from +their hiding-place at the last second. Others ran forward but a +few yards at a time, refusing to take flight, scenting a greater +danger before them than behind. Still others, forced up at the +last moment, doubled with lightning alacrity in their tracks, +turning back to scuttle between the teams, taking desperate +chances. As often as this occurred, it was the signal for a +great uproar. + +"Don't let him get through; don t let him get through." + +"Look out for him, there he goes." + +Horns were blown, bells rung, tin pans clamorously beaten. +Either the jack escaped, or confused by the noise, darted back +again, fleeing away as if his life depended on the issue of the +instant. Once even, a bewildered rabbit jumped fair into Mrs. +Derrick's lap as she sat in the carry-all, and was out again like +a flash. + +"Poor frightened thing," she exclaimed; and for a long time +afterward, she retained upon her knees the sensation of the four +little paws quivering with excitement, and the feel of the +trembling furry body, with its wildly beating heart, pressed +against her own. + +By noon the number of rabbits discernible by Annixter's field +glasses on ahead was far into the thousands. What seemed to be +ground resolved itself, when seen through the glasses, into a +maze of small, moving bodies, leaping, ducking, doubling, running +back and forth--a wilderness of agitated ears, white tails and +twinkling legs. The outside wings of the curved line of vehicles +began to draw in a little; Osterman's ranch was left behind, the +drive continued on over Quien Sabe. + +As the day advanced, the rabbits, singularly enough, became less +wild. When flushed, they no longer ran so far nor so fast, +limping off instead a few feet at a time, and crouching down, +their ears close upon their backs. Thus it was, that by degrees +the teams began to close up on the main herd. At every instant +the numbers increased. It was no longer thousands, it was tens +of thousands. The earth was alive with rabbits. + +Denser and denser grew the throng. In all directions nothing was +to be seen but the loose mass of the moving jacks. The horns of +the crescent of teams began to contract. Far off the corral came +into sight. The disintegrated mass of rabbits commenced, as it +were, to solidify, to coagulate. At first, each jack was some +three feet distant from his nearest neighbor, but this space +diminished to two feet, then to one, then to but a few inches. +The rabbits began leaping over one another. + +Then the strange scene defined itself. It was no longer a herd +covering the earth. It was a sea, whipped into confusion, +tossing incessantly, leaping, falling, agitated by unseen forces. +At times the unexpected tameness of the rabbits all at once +vanished. Throughout certain portions of the herd eddies of +terror abruptly burst forth. A panic spread; then there would +ensue a blind, wild rushing together of thousands of crowded +bodies, and a furious scrambling over backs, till the scuffing +thud of innumerable feet over the earth rose to a reverberating +murmur as of distant thunder, here and there pierced by the +strange, wild cry of the rabbit in distress. + +The line of vehicles was halted. To go forward now meant to +trample the rabbits under foot. The drive came to a standstill +while the herd entered the corral. This took time, for the +rabbits were by now too crowded to run. However, like an opened +sluice-gate, the extending flanks of the entrance of the corral +slowly engulfed the herd. The mass, packed tight as ever, by +degrees diminished, precisely as a pool of water when a dam is +opened. The last stragglers went in with a rush, and the gate +was dropped. + +"Come, just have a lock in here," called Annixter. + +Hilma, descending from the carry-all and joined by Presley and +Harran, approached and looked over the high board fence. + +"Oh, did you ever see anything like that?" she exclaimed. + +The corral, a really large enclosure, had proved all too small +for the number of rabbits collected by the drive. Inside it was +a living, moving, leaping, breathing, twisting mass. The rabbits +were packed two, three, and four feet deep. They were in +constant movement; those beneath struggling to the top, those on +top sinking and disappearing below their fellows. All wildness, +all fear of man, seemed to have entirely disappeared. Men and +boys reaching over the sides of the corral, picked up a jack in +each hand, holding them by the ears, while two reporters from San +Francisco papers took photographs of the scene. The noise made +by the tens of thousands of moving bodies was as the noise of +wind in a forest, while from the hot and sweating mass there rose +a strange odor, penetrating, ammoniacal, savouring of wild life. + +On signal, the killing began. Dogs that had been brought there +for that purpose when let into the corral refused, as had been +half expected, to do the work. They snuffed curiously at the +pile, then backed off, disturbed, perplexed. But the men and +boys--Portuguese for the most part--were more eager. Annixter +drew Hilma away, and, indeed, most of the people set about the +barbecue at once. + +In the corral, however, the killing went forward. Armed with a +club in each hand, the young fellows from Guadalajara and +Bonneville, and the farm boys from the ranches, leaped over the +rails of the corral. They walked unsteadily upon the myriad of +crowding bodies underfoot, or, as space was cleared, sank almost +waist deep into the mass that leaped and squirmed about them. +Blindly, furiously, they struck and struck. The Anglo-Saxon +spectators round about drew back in disgust, but the hot, +degenerated blood of Portuguese, Mexican, and mixed Spaniard +boiled up in excitement at this wholesale slaughter. + +But only a few of the participants of the drive cared to look on. +All the guests betook themselves some quarter of a mile farther +on into the hills. + +The picnic and barbecue were to be held around the spring where +Broderson Creek took its rise. Already two entire beeves were +roasting there; teams were hitched, saddles removed, and men, +women, and children, a great throng, spread out under the shade +of the live oaks. A vast confused clamour rose in the air, a +babel of talk, a clatter of tin plates, of knives and forks. +Bottles were uncorked, napkins and oil-cloths spread over the +ground. The men lit pipes and cigars, the women seized the +occasion to nurse their babies. + +Osterman, ubiquitous as ever, resplendent in his boots and +English riding breeches, moved about between the groups, keeping +up an endless flow of talk, cracking jokes, winking, nudging, +gesturing, putting his tongue in his cheek, never at a loss for a +reply, playing the goat. + +"That josher, Osterman, always at his monkey-shines, but a good +fellow for all that; brainy too. Nothing stuck up about him +either, like Magnus Derrick." + +"Everything all right, Buck?" inquired Osterman, coming up to +where Annixter, Hilma and Mrs. Derrick were sitting down to their +lunch. + +"Yes, yes, everything right. But we've no cork-screw." + +"No screw-cork--no scare-crow? Here you are," and he drew from +his pocket a silver-plated jack-knife with a cork-screw +attachment. +Harran and Presley came up, bearing between them a great smoking, +roasted portion of beef just off the fire. Hilma hastened to put +forward a huge china platter. + +Osterman had a joke to crack with the two boys, a joke that was +rather broad, but as he turned about, the words almost on his +lips, his glance fell upon Hilma herself, whom he had not seen +for more than two months. + +She had handed Presley the platter, and was now sitting with her +back against the tree, between two boles of the roots. The +position was a little elevated and the supporting roots on either +side of her were like the arms of a great chair--a chair of +state. She sat thus, as on a throne, raised above the rest, the +radiance of the unseen crown of motherhood glowing from her +forehead, the beauty of the perfect woman surrounding her like a +glory. + +And the josh died away on Osterman's lips, and unconsciously and +swiftly he bared his head. Something was passing there in the +air about him that he did not understand, something, however, +that imposed reverence and profound respect. For the first time +in his life, embarrassment seized upon him, upon this joker, this +wearer of clothes, this teller of funny stories, with his large, +red ears, bald head and comic actor's face. He stammered +confusedly and took himself away, for the moment abstracted, +serious, lost in thought. + +By now everyone was eating. It was the feeding of the People, +elemental, gross, a great appeasing of appetite, an enormous +quenching of thirst. Quarters of beef, roasts, ribs, shoulders, +haunches were consumed, loaves of bread by the thousands +disappeared, whole barrels of wine went down the dry and dusty +throats of the multitude. Conversation lagged while the People +ate, while hunger was appeased. Everybody had their fill. One +ate for the sake of eating, resolved that there should be nothing +left, considering it a matter of pride to exhibit a clean plate. + +After dinner, preparations were made for games. On a flat +plateau at the top of one of the hills the contestants were to +strive. There was to be a footrace of young girls under +seventeen, a fat men's race, the younger fellows were to put the +shot, to compete in the running broad jump, and the standing high +jump, in the hop, skip, and step and in wrestling. + +Presley was delighted with it all. It was Homeric, this +feasting, this vast consuming of meat and bread and wine, +followed now by games of strength. An epic simplicity and +directness, an honest Anglo-Saxon mirth and innocence, commended +it. Crude it was; coarse it was, but no taint of viciousness was +here. These people were good people, kindly, benignant even, +always readier to give than to receive, always more willing to +help than to be helped. They were good stock. Of such was the +backbone of the nation--sturdy Americans everyone of them. Where +else in the world round were such strong, honest men, such +strong, beautiful women? + +Annixter, Harran, and Presley climbed to the level plateau where +the games were to be held, to lay out the courses, and mark the +distances. It was the very place where once Presley had loved to +lounge entire afternoons, reading his books of poems, smoking and +dozing. From this high point one dominated the entire valley to +the south and west. The view was superb. The three men paused +for a moment on the crest of the hill to consider it. + +Young Vacca came running and panting up the hill after them, +calling for Annixter. + +"Well, well, what is it?" + +"Mr. Osterman's looking for you, sir, you and Mr. Harran. +Vanamee, that cow-boy over at Derrick's, has just come from the +Governor with a message. I guess it's important." + +"Hello, what's up now?" muttered Annixter, as they turned back. + +They found Osterman saddling his horse in furious haste. Near-by +him was Vanamee holding by the bridle an animal that was one +lather of sweat. A few of the picnickers were turning their +heads curiously in that direction. Evidently something of moment +was in the wind. + +"What's all up?" demanded Annixter, as he and Harran, followed by +Presley, drew near. + +"There's hell to pay," exclaimed Osterman under his breath. +"Read that. Vanamee just brought it." + +He handed Annixter a sheet of note paper, and turned again to the +cinching of his saddle. + +"We've got to be quick," he cried. "They've stolen a march on +us." + +Annixter read the note, Harran and Presley looking over his +shoulder. + +"Ah, it's them, is it," exclaimed Annixter. + +Harran set his teeth. "Now for it," he exclaimed. +"They've been to your place already, Mr. Annixter," said Vanamee. +"I passed by it on my way up. They have put Delaney in +possession, and have set all your furniture out in the road." + +Annixter turned about, his lips white. Already Presley and +Harran had run to their horses. + +"Vacca," cried Annixter, "where's Vacca? Put the saddle on the +buckskin, QUICK. Osterman, get as many of the League as are here +together at THIS spot, understand. I'll be back in a minute. I +must tell Hilma this." + +Hooven ran up as Annixter disappeared. His little eyes were +blazing, he was dragging his horse with him. + +"Say, dose fellers come, hey? Me, I'm alretty, see I hev der +guhn." + +"They've jumped the ranch, little girl," said Annixter, putting +one arm around Hilma. "They're in our house now. I'm off. Go +to Derrick's and wait for me there." + +She put her arms around his neck. + +"You're going?" she demanded. + +"I must. Don't be frightened. It will be all right. Go to +Derrick's and--good-bye." + +She said never a word. She looked once long into his eyes, then +kissed him on the mouth. + +Meanwhile, the news had spread. The multitude rose to its feet. +Women and men, with pale faces, looked at each other speechless, +or broke forth into inarticulate exclamations. A strange, +unfamiliar murmur took the place of the tumultuous gaiety of the +previous moments. A sense of dread, of confusion, of impending +terror weighed heavily in the air. What was now to happen? + +When Annixter got back to Osterman, he found a number of the +Leaguers already assembled. They were all mounted. Hooven was +there and Harran, and besides these, Garnett of the Ruby ranch +and Gethings of the San Pablo, Phelps the foreman of Los Muertos, +and, last of all, Dabney, silent as ever, speaking to no one. +Presley came riding up. + +"Best keep out of this, Pres," cried Annixter. + +"Are we ready?" exclaimed Gethings. + +"Ready, ready, we're all here." + +"ALL. Is this all of us?" cried Annixter. "Where are the six +hundred men who were going to rise when this happened?" + +They had wavered, these other Leaguers. Now, when the actual +crisis impended, they were smitten with confusion. Ah, no, they +were not going to stand up and be shot at just to save Derrick's +land. They were not armed. What did Annixter and Osterman take +them for? No, sir; the Railroad had stolen a march on them. +After all his big talk Derrick had allowed them to be taken by +surprise. The only thing to do was to call a meeting of the +Executive Committee. That was the only thing. As for going down +there with no weapons in their hands, NO, sir. That was asking a +little TOO much. +"Come on, then, boys," shouted Osterman, turning his back on the +others. "The Governor says to meet him at Hooven's. We'll make +for the Long Trestle and strike the trail to Hooven's there." + +They set off. It was a terrible ride. Twice during the +scrambling descent from the hills, Presley's pony fell beneath +him. Annixter, on his buckskin, and Osterman, on his +thoroughbred, good horsemen both, led the others, setting a +terrific pace. The hills were left behind. Broderson Creek was +crossed and on the levels of Quien Sabe, straight through the +standing wheat, the nine horses, flogged and spurred, stretched +out to their utmost. Their passage through the wheat sounded +like the rip and tear of a gigantic web of cloth. The landscape +on either hand resolved itself into a long blur. Tears came to +the eyes, flying pebbles, clods of earth, grains of wheat flung +up in the flight, stung the face like shot. Osterman's +thoroughbred took the second crossing of Broderson's Creek in a +single leap. Down under the Long Trestle tore the cavalcade in a +shower of mud and gravel; up again on the further bank, the +horses blowing like steam engines; on into the trail to Hooven's, +single file now, Presley's pony lagging, Hooven's horse bleeding +at the eyes, the buckskin, game as a fighting cock, catching her +second wind, far in the lead now, distancing even the English +thoroughbred that Osterman rode. + +At last Hooven's unpainted house, beneath the enormous live oak +tree, came in sight. Across the Lower Road, breaking through +fences and into the yard around the house, thundered the +Leaguers. Magnus was waiting for them. + +The riders dismounted, hardly less exhausted than their horses. + +"Why, where's all the men?" Annixter demanded of Magnus. + +"Broderson is here and Cutter," replied the Governor, "no one +else. I thought YOU would bring more men with you." + +"There are only nine of us." + +"And the six hundred Leaguers who were going to rise when this +happened!" exclaimed Garnett, bitterly. + +"Rot the League," cried Annixter. "It's gone to pot--went to +pieces at the first touch." + +"We have been taken by surprise, gentlemen, after all," said +Magnus. "Totally off our guard. But there are eleven of us. It +is enough." + +"Well, what's the game? Has the marshal come? How many men are +with him?" + +"The United States marshal from San Francisco," explained Magnus, +"came down early this morning and stopped at Guadalajara. We +learned it all through our friends in Bonneville about an hour +ago. They telephoned me and Mr. Broderson. S. Behrman met him +and provided about a dozen deputies. Delaney, Ruggles, and +Christian joined them at Guadalajara. They left Guadalajara, +going towards Mr. Annixter's ranch house on Quien Sabe. They are +serving the writs in ejectment and putting the dummy buyers in +possession. They are armed. S. Behrman is with them." + +"Where are they now?" + +"Cutter is watching them from the Long Trestle. They returned to +Guadalajara. They are there now." + +"Well," observed Gethings, "From Guadalajara they can only go to +two places. Either they will take the Upper Road and go on to +Osterman's next, or they will take the Lower Road to Mr. +Derrick's." + +"That is as I supposed," said Magnus. "That is why I wanted you +to come here. From Hooven's, here, we can watch both roads +simultaneously." + +"Is anybody on the lookout on the Upper Road?" + +"Cutter. He is on the Long Trestle." + +"Say," observed Hooven, the instincts of the old-time soldier +stirring him, "say, dose feller pretty demn schmart, I tink. We +got to put some picket way oudt bei der Lower Roadt alzoh, und he +tek dose glassus Mist'r Ennixt'r got bei um. Say, look at dose +irregation ditsch. Dot ditsch he run righd across BOTH dose +road, hey? Dat's some fine entrenchment, you bedt. We fighd um +from dose ditsch." + +In fact, the dry irrigating ditch was a natural trench, admirably +suited to the purpose, crossing both roads as Hooven pointed out +and barring approach from Guadalajara to all the ranches save +Annixter's--which had already been seized. + +Gethings departed to join Cutter on the Long Trestle, while +Phelps and Harran, taking Annixter's field glasses with them, and +mounting their horses, went out towards Guadalajara on the Lower +Road to watch for the marshal's approach from that direction. + +After the outposts had left them, the party in Hooven's cottage +looked to their weapons. Long since, every member of the League +had been in the habit of carrying his revolver with him. They +were all armed and, in addition, Hooven had his rifle. Presley +alone carried no weapon. + +The main room of Hooven's house, in which the Leaguers were now +assembled, was barren, poverty-stricken, but tolerably clean. An +old clock ticked vociferously on a shelf. In one corner was a +bed, with a patched, faded quilt. In the centre of the room, +straddling over the bare floor, stood a pine table. Around this +the men gathered, two or three occupying chairs, Annixter sitting +sideways on the table, the rest standing. + +"I believe, gentlemen," said Magnus, "that we can go through this +day without bloodshed. I believe not one shot need be fired. +The Railroad will not force the issue, will not bring about +actual fighting. When the marshal realises that we are +thoroughly in earnest, thoroughly determined, I am convinced that +he will withdraw." + +There were murmurs of assent. + +"Look here," said Annixter, "if this thing can by any means be +settled peaceably, I say let's do it, so long as we don't give +in." + +The others stared. Was this Annixter who spoke--the Hotspur of +the League, the quarrelsome, irascible fellow who loved and +sought a quarrel? Was it Annixter, who now had been the first +and only one of them all to suffer, whose ranch had been seized, +whose household possessions had been flung out into the road? + +"When you come right down to it," he continued, "killing a man, +no matter what he's done to you, is a serious business. I +propose we make one more attempt to stave this thing off. Let's +see if we can't get to talk with the marshal himself; at any +rate, warn him of the danger of going any further. Boys, let's +not fire the first shot. What do you say?" + +The others agreed unanimously and promptly; and old Broderson, +tugging uneasily at his long beard, added: + +"No--no--no violence, no UNNECESSARY violence, that is. I should +hate to have innocent blood on my hands--that is, if it IS +innocent. I don't know, that S. Behrman--ah, he is a--a--surely +he had innocent blood on HIS head. That Dyke affair, terrible, +terrible; but then Dyke WAS in the wrong--driven to it, though; +the Railroad did drive him to it. I want to be fair and just to +everybody" + +"There's a team coming up the road from Los Muertos," announced +Presley from the door. + +"Fair and just to everybody," murmured old Broderson, wagging his +head, frowning perplexedly. "I don't want to--to--to harm +anybody unless they harm me." + +"Is the team going towards Guadalajara?" enquired Garnett, +getting up and coming to the door. + +"Yes, it's a Portuguese, one of the garden truck men." + +"We must turn him back," declared Osterman. "He can't go through +here. We don't want him to take any news on to the marshal and +S. Behrman." + +"I'll turn him back," said Presley. + +He rode out towards the market cart, and the others, watching +from the road in front of Hooven's, saw him halt it. An excited +interview followed. They could hear the Portuguese expostulating +volubly, but in the end he turned back. + +"Martial law on Los Muertos, isn't it?" observed Osterman. +"Steady all," he exclaimed as he turned about, "here comes +Harran." + +Harran rode up at a gallop. The others surrounded him. + +"I saw them," he cried. "They are coming this way. S. Behrman +and Ruggles are in a two-horse buggy. All the others are on +horseback. There are eleven of them. Christian and Delaney are +with them. Those two have rifles. I left Hooven watching them." + +"Better call in Gethings and Cutter right away," said Annixter. +"We'll need all our men." + +"I'll call them in," Presley volunteered at once. "Can I have +the buckskin? My pony is about done up." + +He departed at a brisk gallop, but on the way met Gethings and +Cutter returning. They, too, from their elevated position, had +observed the marshal's party leaving Guadalajara by the Lower +Road. Presley told them of the decision of the Leaguers not to +fire until fired upon. + +"All right," said Gethings. "But if it comes to a gun-fight, +that means it's all up with at least one of us. Delaney never +misses his man." + +When they reached Hooven's again, they found that the Leaguers +had already taken their position in the ditch. The plank bridge +across it had been torn up. Magnus, two long revolvers lying on +the embankment in front of him, was in the middle, Harran at his +side. On either side, some five feet intervening between each +man, stood the other Leaguers, their revolvers ready. Dabney, +the silent old man, had taken off his coat. + +"Take your places between Mr. Osterman and Mr. Broderson," said +Magnus, as the three men rode up. "Presley," he added, "I forbid +you to take any part in this affair." + +"Yes, keep him out of it," cried Annixter from his position at +the extreme end of the line. "Go back to Hooven's house, Pres, +and look after the horses," he added. "This is no business of +yours. And keep the road behind us clear. Don't let ANY ONE +come near, not ANY ONE, understand?" + +Presley withdrew, leading the buckskin and the horses that +Gethings and Cutter had ridden. He fastened them under the great +live oak and then came out and stood in the road in front of the +house to watch what was going on. + +In the ditch, shoulder deep, the Leaguers, ready, watchful, +waited in silence, their eyes fixed on the white shimmer of the +road leading to Guadalajara. + +"Where's Hooven?" enquired Cutter. + +"I don't know," Osterman replied. "He was out watching the Lower +Road with Harran Derrick. Oh, Harran," he called, "isn't Hooven +coming in?" + +"I don't know what he is waiting for," answered Harran. "He was +to have come in just after me. He thought maybe the marshal's +party might make a feint in this direction, then go around by the +Upper Road, after all. He wanted to watch them a little longer. +But he ought to be here now." + +"Think he'll take a shot at them on his own account?" + +"Oh, no, he wouldn't do that." + +"Maybe they took him prisoner." + +"Well, that's to be thought of, too." + +Suddenly there was a cry. Around the bend of the road in front +of them came a cloud of dust. From it emerged a horse's head. + +"Hello, hello, there's something." + +"Remember, we are not to fire first." + +"Perhaps that's Hooven; I can't see. Is it? There only seems to +be one horse." + +"Too much dust for one horse." + +Annixter, who had taken his field glasses from Harran, adjusted +them to his eyes. + +"That's not them," he announced presently, "nor Hooven either. +That's a cart." Then after another moment, he added, "The +butcher's cart from Guadalajara." + +The tension was relaxed. The men drew long breaths, settling +back in their places. + +"Do we let him go on, Governor?" + +"The bridge is down. He can't go by and we must not let him go +back. We shall have to detain him and question him. I wonder +the marshal let him pass." + +The cart approached at a lively trot. + +"Anybody else in that cart, Mr. Annixter?" asked Magnus. "Look +carefully. It may be a ruse. It is strange the marshal should +have let him pass." + +The Leaguers roused themselves again. Osterman laid his hand on +his revolver. + +"No," called Annixter, in another instant, "no, there's only one +man in it." + +The cart came up, and Cutter and Phelps, clambering from the +ditch, stopped it as it arrived in front of the party. + +"Hey--what--what?" exclaimed the young butcher, pulling up. "Is +that bridge broke?" + +But at the idea of being held, the boy protested at top voice, +badly frightened, bewildered, not knowing what was to happen +next. + +"No, no, I got my meat to deliver. Say, you let me go. Say, I +ain't got nothing to do with you." + +He tugged at the reins, trying to turn the cart about. Cutter, +with his jack-knife, parted the reins just back of the bit. + +"You'll stay where you are, m' son, for a while. We're not going +to hurt you. But you are not going back to town till we say so. +Did you pass anybody on the road out of town?" + +In reply to the Leaguers' questions, the young butcher at last +told them he had passed a two-horse buggy and a lot of men on +horseback just beyond the railroad tracks. They were headed for +Los Muertos. + +"That's them, all right," muttered Annixter. "They're coming by +this road, sure." + +The butcher's horse and cart were led to one side of the road, +and the horse tied to the fence with one of the severed lines. +The butcher, himself, was passed over to Presley, who locked him +in Hooven's barn. + +"Well, what the devil," demanded Osterman, "has become of +Bismarck?" + +In fact, the butcher had seen nothing of Hooven. The minutes +were passing, and still he failed to appear. + +"What's he up to, anyways?" + +"Bet you what you like, they caught him. Just like that crazy +Dutchman to get excited and go too near. You can always depend +on Hooven to lose his head." + +Five minutes passed, then ten. The road towards Guadalajara lay +empty, baking and white under the sun. + +"Well, the marshal and S. Behrman don't seem to be in any hurry, +either." + +"Shall I go forward and reconnoitre, Governor?" asked Harran. + +But Dabney, who stood next to Annixter, touched him on the +shoulder and, without speaking, pointed down the road. Annixter +looked, then suddenly cried out: + +"Here comes Hooven." + +The German galloped into sight, around the turn of the road, his +rifle laid across his saddle. He came on rapidly, pulled up, and +dismounted at the ditch. + +"Dey're commen," he cried, trembling with excitement. "I watch +um long dime bei der side oaf der roadt in der busches. Dey +shtop bei der gate oder side der relroadt trecks and talk long +dime mit one n'udder. Den dey gome on. Dey're gowun sure do zum +monkey-doodle pizeness. Me, I see Gritschun put der kertridges +in his guhn. I tink dey gowun to gome MY blace first. Dey gowun +to try put me off, tek my home, bei Gott." + +"All right, get down in here and keep quiet, Hooven. Don't fire +unless----" + +"Here they are." + +A half-dozen voices uttered the cry at once. + +There could be no mistake this time. A buggy, drawn by two +horses, came into view around the curve of the road. Three +riders accompanied it, and behind these, seen at intervals in a +cloud of dust were two--three--five--six others. + +This, then, was S. Behrman with the United States marshal and his +posse. The event that had been so long in preparation, the event +which it had been said would never come to pass, the last trial +of strength, the last fight between the Trust and the People, the +direct, brutal grapple of armed men, the law defied, the +Government ignored, behold, here it was close at hand. + +Osterman cocked his revolver, and in the profound silence that +had fallen upon the scene, the click was plainly audible from end +to end of the line. + +"Remember our agreement, gentlemen," cried Magnus, in a warning +voice. "Mr. Osterman, I must ask you to let down the hammer of +your weapon." + +No one answered. In absolute quiet, standing motionless in their +places, the Leaguers watched the approach of the marshal. + +Five minutes passed. The riders came on steadily. They drew +nearer. The grind of the buggy wheels in the grit and dust of +the road, and the prolonged clatter of the horses' feet began to +make itself heard. The Leaguers could distinguish the faces of +their enemies. + +In the buggy were S. Behrman and Cyrus Ruggles, the latter +driving. A tall man in a frock coat and slouched hat--the +marshal, beyond question--rode at the left of the buggy; Delaney, +carrying a Winchester, at the right. Christian, the real estate +broker, S. Behrman's cousin, also with a rifle, could be made out +just behind the marshal. Back of these, riding well up, was a +group of horsemen, indistinguishable in the dust raised by the +buggy's wheels. + +Steadily the distance between the Leaguers and the posse +diminished. + +"Don't let them get too close, Governor," whispered Harran. + +When S. Behrman's buggy was about one hundred yards distant from +the irrigating ditch, Magnus sprang out upon the road, leaving +his revolvers behind him. He beckoned Garnett and Gethings to +follow, and the three ranchers, who, with the exception of +Broderson, were the oldest men present, advanced, without arms, +to meet the marshal. + +Magnus cried aloud: + +"Halt where you are." + +From their places in the ditch, Annixter, Osterman, Dabney, +Harran, Hooven, Broderson, Cutter, and Phelps, their hands laid +upon their revolvers, watched silently, alert, keen, ready for +anything. + +At the Governor's words, they saw Ruggles pull sharply on the +reins. The buggy came to a standstill, the riders doing +likewise. Magnus approached the marshal, still followed by +Garnett and Gethings, and began to speak. His voice was audible +to the men in the ditch, but his words could not be made out. +They heard the marshal reply quietly enough and the two shook +hands. Delaney came around from the side of the buggy, his horse +standing before the team across the road. He leaned from the +saddle, listening to what was being said, but made no remark. +From time to time, S. Behrman and Ruggles, from their seats in +the buggy, interposed a sentence or two into the conversation, +but at first, so far as the Leaguers could discern, neither +Magnus nor the marshal paid them any attention. They saw, +however, that the latter repeatedly shook his head and once they +heard him exclaim in a loud voice: + +"I only know my duty, Mr. Derrick." + +Then Gethings turned about, and seeing Delaney close at hand, +addressed an unheard remark to him. The cow-puncher replied +curtly and the words seemed to anger Gethings. He made a +gesture, pointing back to the ditch, showing the intrenched +Leaguers to the posse. Delaney appeared to communicate the news +that the Leaguers were on hand and prepared to resist, to the +other members of the party. They all looked toward the ditch and +plainly saw the ranchers there, standing to their arms. + +But meanwhile Ruggles had addressed himself more directly to +Magnus, and between the two an angry discussion was going +forward. Once even Harran heard his father exclaim: + +"The statement is a lie and no one knows it better than +yourself." + +"Here," growled Annixter to Dabney, who stood next him in the +ditch, "those fellows are getting too close. Look at them edging +up. Don't Magnus see that?" + +The other members of the marshal's force had come forward from +their places behind the buggy and were spread out across the +road. Some of them were gathered about Magnus, Garnett, and +Gethings; and some were talking together, looking and pointing +towards the ditch. Whether acting upon signal or not, the +Leaguers in the ditch could not tell, but it was certain that one +or two of the posse had moved considerably forward. Besides +this, Delaney had now placed his horse between Magnus and the +ditch, and two others riding up from the rear had followed his +example. The posse surrounded the three ranchers, and by now, +everybody was talking at once. + +"Look here," Harran called to Annixter, "this won't do. I don't +like the looks of this thing. They all seem to be edging up, and +before we know it they may take the Governor and the other men +prisoners." + +"They ought to come back," declared Annixter. + +"Somebody ought to tell them that those fellows are creeping up." + +By now, the angry argument between the Governor and Ruggles had +become more heated than ever. Their voices were raised; now and +then they made furious gestures. + +"They ought to come back," cried Osterman. "We couldn't shoot +now if anything should happen, for fear of hitting them." + +"Well, it sounds as though something were going to happen pretty +soon." + +They could hear Gethings and Delaney wrangling furiously; another +deputy joined in. + +"I'm going to call the Governor back," exclaimed Annixter, +suddenly clambering out of the ditch. +"No, no," cried Osterman, "keep in the ditch. They can't drive +us out if we keep here." + +Hooven and Harran, who had instinctively followed Annixter, +hesitated at Osterman's words and the three halted irresolutely +on the road before the ditch, their weapons in their hands. + +"Governor," shouted Harran, "come on back. You can't do +anything." + +Still the wrangle continued, and one of the deputies, advancing a +little from out the group, cried out: + +"Keep back there! Keep back there, you!" + +"Go to hell, will you?" shouted Harran on the instant. "You're +on my land." + +"Oh, come back here, Harran," called Osterman. "That ain't going +to do any good." + +"There--listen," suddenly exclaimed Harran. "The Governor is +calling us. Come on; I'm going." + +Osterman got out of the ditch and came forward, catching Harran +by the arm and pulling him back. + +"He didn't call. Don't get excited. You'll ruin everything. +Get back into the ditch again." + +But Cutter, Phelps, and the old man Dabney, misunderstanding what +was happening, and seeing Osterman leave the ditch, had followed +his example. All the Leaguers were now out of the ditch, and a +little way down the road, Hooven, Osterman, Annixter, and Harran +in front, Dabney, Phelps, and Cutter coming up from behind. + +"Keep back, you," cried the deputy again. + +In the group around S. Behrman's buggy, Gethings and Delaney were +yet quarrelling, and the angry debate between Magnus, Garnett, +and the marshal still continued. + +Till this moment, the real estate broker, Christian, had taken no +part in the argument, but had kept himself in the rear of the +buggy. Now, however, he pushed forward. There was but little +room for him to pass, and, as he rode by the buggy, his horse +scraped his flank against the hub of the wheel. The animal +recoiled sharply, and, striking against Garnett, threw him to the +ground. Delaney's horse stood between the buggy and the Leaguers +gathered on the road in front of the ditch; the incident, +indistinctly seen by them, was misinterpreted. + +Garnett had not yet risen when Hooven raised a great shout: + +"HOCH, DER KAISER! HOCH, DER VATERLAND!" + +With the words, he dropped to one knee, and sighting his rifle +carefully, fired into the group of men around the buggy. + +Instantly the revolvers and rifles seemed to go off of +themselves. Both sides, deputies and Leaguers, opened fire +simultaneously. At first, it was nothing but a confused roar of +explosions; then the roar lapsed to an irregular, quick +succession of reports, shot leaping after shot; then a moment's +silence, and, last of all, regular as clock-ticks, three shots at +exact intervals. Then stillness. + +Delaney, shot through the stomach, slid down from his horse, and, +on his hands and knees, crawled from the road into the standing +wheat. Christian fell backward from the saddle toward the buggy, +and hung suspended in that position, his head and shoulders on +the wheel, one stiff leg still across his saddle. Hooven, in +attempting to rise from his kneeling position, received a rifle +ball squarely in the throat, and rolled forward upon his face. +Old Broderson, crying out, "Oh, they've shot me, boys," staggered +sideways, his head bent, his hands rigid at his sides, and fell +into the ditch. Osterman, blood running from his mouth and nose, +turned about and walked back. Presley helped him across the +irrigating ditch and Osterman laid himself down, his head on his +folded arms. Harran Derrick dropped where he stood, turning over +on his face, and lay motionless, groaning terribly, a pool of +blood forming under his stomach. The old man Dabney, silent as +ever, received his death, speechless. He fell to his knees, got +up again, fell once more, and died without a word. Annixter, +instantly killed, fell his length to the ground, and lay without +movement, just as he had fallen, one arm across his face. + + + +VII + + +On their way to Derrick's ranch house, Hilma and Mrs. Derrick +heard the sounds of distant firing. + +"Stop!" cried Hilma, laying her hand upon young Vacca's arm. +"Stop the horses. Listen, what was that?" + +The carry-all came to a halt and from far away across the +rustling wheat came the faint rattle of rifles and revolvers. + +"Say," cried Vacca, rolling his eyes, "oh, say, they're fighting +over there." + +Mrs. Derrick put her hands over her face. + +"Fighting," she cried, "oh, oh, it's terrible. Magnus is there-- +and Harran." + +"Where do you think it is?" demanded Hilma. +"That's over toward Hooven's." + +"I'm going. Turn back. Drive to Hooven's, quick." + +"Better not, Mrs. Annixter," protested the young man. "Mr. +Annixter said we were to go to Derrick's. Better keep away from +Hooven's if there's trouble there. We wouldn't get there till +it's all over, anyhow." + +"Yes, yes, let's go home," cried Mrs. Derrick, "I'm afraid. Oh, +Hilma, I'm afraid." + +"Come with me to Hooven's then." + +"There, where they are fighting? Oh, I couldn't. I--I can't. +It would be all over before we got there as Vacca says." + +"Sure," repeated young Vacca. + +"Drive to Hooven's," commanded Hilma. "If you won't, I'll walk +there." She threw off the lap-robes, preparing to descend. "And +you," she exclaimed, turning to Mrs. Derrick, "how CAN you--when +Harran and your husband may be--may--are in danger." + +Grumbling, Vacca turned the carry-all about and drove across the +open fields till he reached the road to Guadalajara, just below +the Mission. + +"Hurry!" cried Hilma. + +The horses started forward under the touch of the whip. The +ranch houses of Quien Sabe came in sight. + +"Do you want to stop at the house?" inquired Vacca over his +shoulder. + +"No, no; oh, go faster--make the horses run." + +They dashed through the houses of the Home ranch. + +"Oh, oh," cried Hilma suddenly, "look, look there. Look what +they have done." + +Vacca pulled the horses up, for the road in front of Annixter's +house was blocked. + +A vast, confused heap of household effects was there--chairs, +sofas, pictures, fixtures, lamps. Hilma's little home had been +gutted; everything had been taken from it and ruthlessly flung +out upon the road, everything that she and her husband had bought +during that wonderful week after their marriage. Here was the +white enamelled "set" of the bedroom furniture, the three chairs, +wash-stand and bureau,--the bureau drawers falling out, spilling +their contents into the dust; there were the white wool rugs of +the sitting-room, the flower stand, with its pots all broken, its +flowers wilting; the cracked goldfish globe, the fishes already +dead; the rocking chair, the sewing machine, the great round +table of yellow oak, the lamp with its deep shade of crinkly red +tissue paper, the pretty tinted photographs that had hung on the +wall--the choir boys with beautiful eyes, the pensive young girls +in pink gowns--the pieces of wood carving that represented quails +and ducks, and, last of all, its curtains of crisp, clean muslin, +cruelly torn and crushed--the bed, the wonderful canopied bed so +brave and gay, of which Hilma had been so proud, thrust out there +into the common road, torn from its place, from the discreet +intimacy of her bridal chamber, violated, profaned, flung out +into the dust and garish sunshine for all men to stare at, a +mockery and a shame. + +To Hilma it was as though something of herself, of her person, +had been thus exposed and degraded; all that she held sacred +pilloried, gibbeted, and exhibited to the world's derision. +Tears of anguish sprang to her eyes, a red flame of outraged +modesty overspread her face. + +"Oh," she cried, a sob catching her throat, "oh, how could they +do it?" But other fears intruded; other greater terrors impended. + +"Go on," she cried to Vacca, "go on quickly." + +But Vacca would go no further. He had seen what had escaped +Hilma's attention, two men, deputies, no doubt, on the porch of +the ranch house. They held possession there, and the evidence of +the presence of the enemy in this raid upon Quien Sabe had +daunted him. + +"No, SIR," he declared, getting out of the carry-all, "I ain't +going to take you anywhere where you're liable to get hurt. +Besides, the road's blocked by all this stuff. You can't get the +team by." + +Hilma sprang from the carry-all. + +"Come," she said to Mrs. Derrick. + +The older woman, trembling, hesitating, faint with dread, obeyed, +and Hilma, picking her way through and around the wreck of her +home, set off by the trail towards the Long Trestle and Hooven's. + +When she arrived, she found the road in front of the German's +house, and, indeed, all the surrounding yard, crowded with +people. An overturned buggy lay on the side of the road in the +distance, its horses in a tangle of harness, held by two or three +men. She saw Caraher's buckboard under the live oak and near it +a second buggy which she recognised as belonging to a doctor in +Guadalajara. + +"Oh, what has happened; oh, what has happened?" moaned Mrs. +Derrick. + +"Come," repeated Hilma. The young girl took her by the hand and +together they pushed their way through the crowd of men and women +and entered the yard. + +The throng gave way before the two women, parting to right and +left without a word. + +"Presley," cried Mrs. Derrick, as she caught sight of him in the +doorway of the house, "oh, Presley, what has happened? Is Harran +safe? Is Magnus safe? Where are they?" + +"Don't go in, Mrs. Derrick," said Presley, coming forward, "don't +go in." + +"Where is my husband?" demanded Hilma. + +Presley turned away and steadied himself against the jamb of the +door. + +Hilma, leaving Mrs. Derrick, entered the house. The front room +was full of men. She was dimly conscious of Cyrus Ruggles and S. +Behrman, both deadly pale, talking earnestly and in whispers to +Cutter and Phelps. There was a strange, acrid odour of an +unfamiliar drug in the air. On the table before her was a +satchel, surgical instruments, rolls of bandages, and a blue, +oblong paper box full of cotton. But above the hushed noises of +voices and footsteps, one terrible sound made itself heard--the +prolonged, rasping sound of breathing, half choked, laboured, +agonised. + +"Where is my husband?" she cried. She pushed the men aside. She +saw Magnus, bareheaded, three or four men lying on the floor, one +half naked, his body swathed in white bandages; the doctor in +shirt sleeves, on one knee beside a figure of a man stretched out +beside him. + +Garnett turned a white face to her. + +"Where is my husband?" + +The other did not reply, but stepped aside and Hilma saw the dead +body of her husband lying upon the bed. She did not cry out. +She said no word. She went to the bed, and sitting upon it, took +Annixter's head in her lap, holding it gently between her hands. +Thereafter she did not move, but sat holding her dead husband's +head in her lap, looking vaguely about from face to face of those +in the room, while, without a sob, without a cry, the great tears +filled her wide-opened eyes and rolled slowly down upon her +cheeks. + +On hearing that his wife was outside, Magnus came quickly +forward. She threw herself into his arms. + +"Tell me, tell me," she cried, "is Harran--is----" + +"We don't know yet," he answered. "Oh, Annie----" + +Then suddenly the Governor checked himself. He, the indomitable, +could not break down now. + +"The doctor is with him," he said; "we are doing all we can. Try +and be brave, Annie. There is always hope. This is a terrible +day's work. God forgive us all." + +She pressed forward, but he held her back. + +"No, don't see him now. Go into the next room. Garnett, take +care of her." + +But she would not be denied. She pushed by Magnus, and, breaking +through the group that surrounded her son, sank on her knees +beside him, moaning, in compassion and terror. + +Harran lay straight and rigid upon the floor, his head propped by +a pillow, his coat that had been taken off spread over his chest. +One leg of his trousers was soaked through and through with +blood. His eyes were half-closed, and with the regularity of a +machine, the eyeballs twitched and twitched. His face was so +white that it made his yellow hair look brown, while from his +opened mouth, there issued that loud and terrible sound of +guttering, rasping, laboured breathing that gagged and choked and +gurgled with every inhalation. + +"Oh, Harrie, Harrie," called Mrs. Derrick, catching at one of his +hands. + +The doctor shook his head. + +"He is unconscious, Mrs. Derrick." + +"Where was he--where is--the--the----" + +"Through the lungs." + +"Will he get well? Tell me the truth." + +"I don't know. Mrs. Derrick." + +She had all but fainted, and the old rancher, Garnett, half- +carrying, half-leading her, took her to the one adjoining room-- +Minna Hooven's bedchamber. Dazed, numb with fear, she sat down +on the edge of the bed, rocking herself back and forth, +murmuring: + +"Harrie, Harrie, oh, my son, my little boy." + +In the outside room, Presley came and went, doing what he could +to be of service, sick with horror, trembling from head to foot. + +The surviving members of both Leaguers and deputies--the warring +factions of the Railroad and the People--mingled together now +with no thought of hostility. Presley helped the doctor to cover +Christian's body. S. Behrman and Ruggles held bowls of water +while Osterman was attended to. The horror of that dreadful +business had driven all other considerations from the mind. The +sworn foes of the last hour had no thought of anything but to +care for those whom, in their fury, they had shot down. The +marshal, abandoning for that day the attempt to serve the writs, +departed for San Francisco. + +The bodies had been brought in from the road where they fell. +Annixter's corpse had been laid upon the bed; those of Dabney and +Hooven, whose wounds had all been in the face and head, were +covered with a tablecloth. Upon the floor, places were made for +the others. Cutter and Ruggles rode into Guadalajara to bring +out the doctor there, and to telephone to Bonneville for others. + +Osterman had not at any time since the shooting, lost +consciousness. He lay upon the floor of Hooven's house, bare to +the waist, bandages of adhesive tape reeved about his abdomen and +shoulder. His eyes were half-closed. Presley, who looked after +him, pending the arrival of a hack from Bonneville that was to +take him home, knew that he was in agony. + +But this poser, this silly fellow, this cracker of jokes, whom no +one had ever taken very seriously, at the last redeemed himself. +When at length, the doctor had arrived, he had, for the first +time, opened his eyes. + +"I can wait," he said. "Take Harran first." +And when at length, his turn had come, and while the sweat rolled +from his forehead as the doctor began probing for the bullet, he +had reached out his free arm and taken Presley's hand in his, +gripping it harder and harder, as the probe entered the wound. +His breath came short through his nostrils; his face, the face of +a comic actor, with its high cheek bones, bald forehead, and +salient ears, grew paler and paler, his great slit of a mouth +shut tight, but he uttered no groan. + +When the worst anguish was over and he could find breath to +speak, his first words had been: + +"Were any of the others badly hurt?" + +As Presley stood by the door of the house after bringing in a +pail of water for the doctor, he was aware of a party of men who +had struck off from the road on the other side of the irrigating +ditch and were advancing cautiously into the field of wheat. He +wondered what it meant and Cutter, coming up at that moment, +Presley asked him if he knew. + +"It's Delaney," said Cutter. "It seems that when he was shot he +crawled off into the wheat. They are looking for him there." + +Presley had forgotten all about the buster and had only a vague +recollection of seeing him slide from his horse at the beginning +of the fight. Anxious to know what had become of him, he hurried +up and joined the party of searchers. + +"We better look out," said one of the young men, "how we go +fooling around in here. If he's alive yet he's just as liable as +not to think we're after him and take a shot at us." + +"I guess there ain't much fight left in him," another answered. +"Look at the wheat here." + +"Lord! He's bled like a stuck pig." + +"Here's his hat," abruptly exclaimed the leader of the party. +"He can't be far off. Let's call him." + +They called repeatedly without getting any answer, then proceeded +cautiously. All at once the men in advance stopped so suddenly +that those following carromed against them. There was an +outburst of exclamation. + +"Here he is!" + +"Good Lord! Sure, that's him." + +"Poor fellow, poor fellow." + +The cow-puncher lay on his back, deep in the wheat, his knees +drawn up, his eyes wide open, his lips brown. Rigidly gripped in +one hand was his empty revolver. + +The men, farm hands from the neighbouring ranches, young fellows +from Guadalajara, drew back in instinctive repulsion. One at +length ventured near, peering down into the face. + +"Is he dead?" inquired those in the rear. + +"I don't know." + +"Well, put your hand on his heart." +"No! I--I don't want to." + +"What you afraid of?" + +"Well, I just don't want to touch him, that's all. It's bad +luck. YOU feel his heart." + +"You can't always tell by that." + +"How can you tell, then? Pshaw, you fellows make me sick. Here, +let me get there. I'll do it." + +There was a long pause, as the other bent down and laid his hand +on the cow-puncher's breast. + +"Well?" + +"I can't tell. Sometimes I think I feel it beat and sometimes I +don't. I never saw a dead man before." + +"Well, you can't tell by the heart." + +"What's the good of talking so blame much. Dead or not, let's +carry him back to the house." + +Two or three ran back to the road for planks from the broken +bridge. When they returned with these a litter was improvised, +and throwing their coats over the body, the party carried it back +to the road. The doctor was summoned and declared the cow- +puncher to have been dead over half an hour. + +"What did I tell you?" exclaimed one of the group. + +"Well, I never said he wasn't dead," protested the other. "I +only said you couldn't always tell by whether his heart beat or +not." + +But all at once there was a commotion. The wagon containing Mrs. +Hooven, Minna, and little Hilda drove up. + +"Eh, den, my men," cried Mrs. Hooven, wildly interrogating the +faces of the crowd. "Whadt has happun? Sey, den, dose vellers, +hev dey hurdt my men, eh, whadt?" + +She sprang from the wagon, followed by Minna with Hilda in her +arms. The crowd bore back as they advanced, staring at them in +silence. + +"Eh, whadt has happun, whadt has happun?" wailed Mrs. Hooven, as +she hurried on, her two hands out before her, the fingers spread +wide. "Eh, Hooven, eh, my men, are you alle righdt?" + +She burst into the house. Hooven's body had been removed to an +adjoining room, the bedroom of the house, and to this room Mrs. +Hooven--Minna still at her heels--proceeded, guided by an +instinct born of the occasion. Those in the outside room, saying +no word, made way for them. They entered, closing the door +behind them, and through all the rest of that terrible day, no +sound nor sight of them was had by those who crowded into and +about that house of death. Of all the main actors of the tragedy +of the fight in the ditch, they remained the least noted, +obtruded themselves the least upon the world's observation. They +were, for the moment, forgotten. + +But by now Hooven's house was the centre of an enormous crowd. A +vast concourse of people from Bonneville, from Guadalajara, from +the ranches, swelled by the thousands who had that morning +participated in the rabbit drive, surged about the place; men and +women, young boys, young girls, farm hands, villagers, +townspeople, ranchers, railroad employees, Mexicans, Spaniards, +Portuguese. Presley, returning from the search for Delaney's +body, had to fight his way to the house again. + +And from all this multitude there rose an indefinable murmur. As +yet, there was no menace in it, no anger. It was confusion +merely, bewilderment, the first long-drawn "oh!" that greets the +news of some great tragedy. The people had taken no thought as +yet. Curiosity was their dominant impulse. Every one wanted to +see what had been done; failing that, to hear of it, and failing +that, to be near the scene of the affair. The crowd of people +packed the road in front of the house for nearly a quarter of a +mile in either direction. They balanced themselves upon the +lower strands of the barbed wire fence in their effort to see +over each others' shoulders; they stood on the seats of their +carts, buggies, and farm wagons, a few even upon the saddles of +their riding horses. They crowded, pushed, struggled, surged +forward and back without knowing why, converging incessantly upon +Hooven's house. + +When, at length, Presley got to the gate, he found a carry-all +drawn up before it. Between the gate and the door of the house a +lane had been formed, and as he paused there a moment, a group of +Leaguers, among whom were Garnett and Gethings, came slowly from +the door carrying old Broderson in their arms. The doctor, +bareheaded and in his shirt sleeves, squinting in the sunlight, +attended them, repeating at every step: + +"Slow, slow, take it easy, gentlemen." + +Old Broderson was unconscious. His face was not pale, no +bandages could be seen. With infinite precautions, the men bore +him to the carry-all and deposited him on the back seat; the rain +flaps were let down on one side to shut off the gaze of the +multitude. + +But at this point a moment of confusion ensued. Presley, because +of half a dozen people who stood in his way, could not see what +was going on. There were exclamations, hurried movements. The +doctor uttered a sharp command and a man ran back to the house +returning on the instant with the doctor's satchel. By this +time, Presley was close to the wheels of the carry-all and could +see the doctor inside the vehicle bending over old Broderson. + +"Here it is, here it is," exclaimed the man who had been sent to +the house. + +"I won't need it," answered the doctor, "he's dying now." + +At the words a great hush widened throughout the throng near at +hand. Some men took off their hats. + +"Stand back," protested the doctor quietly, "stand back, good +people, please." + +The crowd bore back a little. In the silence, a woman began to +sob. The seconds passed, then a minute. The horses of the +carry-all shifted their feet and whisked their tails, driving off +the flies. At length, the doctor got down from the carry-all, +letting down the rain-flaps on that side as well. + +"Will somebody go home with the body?" he asked. Gethings +stepped forward and took his place by the driver. The carry-all +drove away. + +Presley reentered the house. During his absence it had been +cleared of all but one or two of the Leaguers, who had taken part +in the fight. Hilma still sat on the bed with Annixter's head in +her lap. S. Behrman, Ruggles, and all the railroad party had +gone. Osterman had been taken away in a hack and the tablecloth +over Dabney's body replaced with a sheet. But still unabated, +agonised, raucous, came the sounds of Harran's breathing. +Everything possible had already been done. For the moment it was +out of the question to attempt to move him. His mother and +father were at his side, Magnus, with a face of stone, his look +fixed on those persistently twitching eyes, Annie Derrick +crouching at her son's side, one of his hands in hers, fanning +his face continually with the crumpled sheet of an old newspaper. + +Presley on tip-toes joined the group, looking on attentively. +One of the surgeons who had been called from Bonneville stood +close by, watching Harran's face, his arms folded. + +"How is he?" Presley whispered. + +"He won't live," the other responded. + +By degrees the choke and gurgle of the breathing became more +irregular and the lids closed over the twitching eyes. All at +once the breath ceased. Magnus shot an inquiring glance at the +surgeon. + +"He is dead, Mr. Derrick," the surgeon replied. + +Annie Derrick, with a cry that rang through all the house, +stretched herself over the body of her son, her head upon his +breast, and the Governor's great shoulders bowed never to rise +again. + +"God help me and forgive me," he groaned. + +Presley rushed from the house, beside himself with grief, with +horror, with pity, and with mad, insensate rage. On the porch +outside Caraher met him. + +"Is he--is he--" began the saloon-keeper. + +"Yes, he's dead," cried Presley. "They're all dead, murdered, +shot down, dead, dead, all of them. Whose turn is next?" + +"That's the way they killed my wife, Presley." + +"Caraher," cried Presley, "give me your hand. I've been wrong +all the time. The League is wrong. All the world is wrong. You +are the only one of us all who is right. I'm with you from now +on. BY GOD, I TOO, I'M A RED!" + +In course of time, a farm wagon from Bonneville arrived at +Hooven's. The bodies of Annixter and Harran were placed in it, +and it drove down the Lower Road towards the Los Muertos ranch +houses. + +The bodies of Delaney and Christian had already been carried to +Guadalajara and thence taken by train to Bonneville . + +Hilma followed the farm wagon in the Derricks' carry-all, with +Magnus and his wife. During all that ride none of them spoke a +word. It had been arranged that, since Quien Sabe was in the +hands of the Railroad, Hilma should come to Los Muertos. To that +place also Annixter's body was carried. + +Later on in the day, when it was almost evening, the undertaker's +black wagon passed the Derricks' Home ranch on its way from +Hooven's and turned into the county road towards Bonneville. The +initial excitement of the affair of the irrigating ditch had died +down; the crowd long since had dispersed. By the time the wagon +passed Caraher's saloon, the sun had set. Night was coming on. + +And the black wagon went on through the darkness, unattended, +ignored, solitary, carrying the dead body of Dabney, the silent +old man of whom nothing was known but his name, who made no +friends, whom nobody knew or spoke to, who had come from no one +knew whence and who went no one knew whither. + +Towards midnight of that same day, Mrs. Dyke was awakened by the +sounds of groaning in the room next to hers. Magnus Derrick was +not so occupied by Harran's death that he could not think of +others who were in distress, and when he had heard that Mrs. Dyke +and Sidney, like Hilma, had been turned out of Quien Sabe, he had +thrown open Los Muertos to them. + +"Though," he warned them, "it is precarious hospitality at the +best." + +Until late, Mrs. Dyke had sat up with Hilma, comforting her as +best she could, rocking her to and fro in her arms, crying with +her, trying to quiet her, for once having given way to her grief, +Hilma wept with a terrible anguish and a violence that racked her +from head to foot, and at last, worn out, a little child again, +had sobbed herself to sleep in the older woman's arms, and as a +little child, Mrs. Dyke had put her to bed and had retired +herself. + +Aroused a few hours later by the sounds of a distress that was +physical, as well as mental, Mrs. Dyke hurried into Hilma's room, +carrying the lamp with her. +Mrs. Dyke needed no enlightenment. She woke Presley and besought +him to telephone to Bonneville at once, summoning a doctor. That +night Hilma in great pain suffered a miscarriage. + +Presley did not close his eyes once during the night; he did not +even remove his clothes. Long after the doctor had departed and +that house of tragedy had quieted down, he still remained in his +place by the open window of his little room, looking off across +the leagues of growing wheat, watching the slow kindling of the +dawn. Horror weighed intolerably upon him. Monstrous things, +huge, terrible, whose names he knew only too well, whirled at a +gallop through his imagination, or rose spectral and grisly +before the eyes of his mind. Harran dead, Annixter dead, +Broderson dead, Osterman, perhaps, even at that moment dying. +Why, these men had made up his world. Annixter had been his best +friend, Harran, his almost daily companion; Broderson and +Osterman were familiar to him as brothers. They were all his +associates, his good friends, the group was his environment, +belonging to his daily life. And he, standing there in the dust +of the road by the irrigating ditch, had seen them shot. He +found himself suddenly at his table, the candle burning at his +elbow, his journal before him, writing swiftly, the desire for +expression, the craving for outlet to the thoughts that clamoured +tumultuous at his brain, never more insistent, more imperious. +Thus he wrote: + +"Dabney dead, Hooven dead, Harran dead, Annixter dead, Broderson +dead, Osterman dying, S. Behrman alive, successful; the Railroad +in possession of Quien Sabe. I saw them shot. Not twelve hours +since I stood there at the irrigating ditch. Ah, that terrible +moment of horror and confusion! powder smoke--flashing pistol +barrels--blood stains--rearing horses--men staggering to their +death--Christian in a horrible posture, one rigid leg high in the +air across his saddle--Broderson falling sideways into the ditch-- +Osterman laying himself down, his head on his arms, as if tired, +tired out. These things, I have seen them. The picture of this +day's work is from henceforth part of my mind, part of ME. They +have done it, S. Behrman and the owners of the railroad have done +it, while all the world looked on, while the people of these +United States looked on. Oh, come now and try your theories upon +us, us of the ranchos, us, who have suffered, us, who KNOW. Oh, +talk to US now of the 'rights of Capital,' talk to US of the +Trust, talk to US of the 'equilibrium between the classes.' Try +your ingenious ideas upon us. WE KNOW. I cannot tell whether or +not your theories are excellent. I do not know if your ideas are +plausible. I do not know how practical is your scheme of +society. I do not know if the Railroad has a right to our lands, +but I DO know that Harran is dead, that Annixter is dead, that +Broderson is dead, that Hooven is dead, that Osterman is dying, +and that S. Behrman is alive, successful, triumphant; that he has +ridden into possession of a principality over the dead bodies of +five men shot down by his hired associates. + +"I can see the outcome. The Railroad will prevail. The Trust +will overpower us. Here in this corner of a great nation, here, +on the edge of the continent, here, in this valley of the West, +far from the great centres, isolated, remote, lost, the great +iron hand crushes life from us, crushes liberty and the pursuit +of happiness from us, and our little struggles, our moment's +convulsion of death agony causes not one jar in the vast, +clashing machinery of the nation's life; a fleck of grit in the +wheels, perhaps, a grain of sand in the cogs--the momentary creak +of the axle is the mother's wail of bereavement, the wife's cry +of anguish--and the great wheel turns, spinning smooth again, +even again, and the tiny impediment of a second, scarce noticed, +is forgotten. Make the people believe that the faint tremour in +their great engine is a menace to its function? What a folly to +think of it. Tell them of the danger and they will laugh at you. +Tell them, five years from now, the story of the fight between +the League of the San Joaquin and the Railroad and it will not be +believed. What! a pitched battle between Farmer and Railroad, a +battle that cost the lives of seven men? Impossible, it could +not have happened. Your story is fiction--is exaggerated. + +"Yet it is Lexington--God help us, God enlighten us, God rouse us +from our lethargy--it is Lexington; farmers with guns in their +hands fighting for Liberty. Is our State of California the only +one that has its ancient and hereditary foe? Are there no other +Trusts between the oceans than this of the Pacific and +Southwestern Railroad? Ask yourselves, you of the Middle West, +ask yourselves, you of the North, ask yourselves, you of the +East, ask yourselves, you of the South--ask yourselves, every +citizen of every State from Maine to Mexico, from the Dakotas to +the Carolinas, have you not the monster in your boundaries? If +it is not a Trust of transportation, it is only another head of +the same Hydra. Is not our death struggle typical? Is it not +one of many, is it not symbolical of the great and terrible +conflict that is going on everywhere in these United States? Ah, +you people, blind, bound, tricked, betrayed, can you not see it? +Can you not see how the monsters have plundered your treasures +and holding them in the grip of their iron claws, dole them out +to you only at the price of your blood, at the price of the lives +of your wives and your little children? You give your babies to +Moloch for the loaf of bread you have kneaded yourselves. You +offer your starved wives to Juggernaut for the iron nail you have +yourselves compounded." + +He spent the night over his journal, writing down such thoughts +as these or walking the floor from wall to wall, or, seized at +times with unreasoning horror and blind rage, flinging himself +face downward upon his bed, vowing with inarticulate cries that +neither S. Behrman nor Shelgrim should ever live to consummate +their triumph. + +Morning came and with it the daily papers and news. Presley did +not even glance at the "Mercury." Bonneville published two other +daily journals that professed to voice the will and reflect the +temper of the people and these he read eagerly. + +Osterman was yet alive and there were chances of his recovery. +The League--some three hundred of its members had gathered at +Bonneville over night and were patrolling the streets and, still +resolved to keep the peace, were even guarding the railroad shops +and buildings. Furthermore, the Leaguers had issued manifestoes, +urging all citizens to preserve law and order, yet summoning an +indignation meeting to be convened that afternoon at the City +Opera House. + +It appeared from the newspapers that those who obstructed the +marshal in the discharge of his duty could be proceeded against +by the District Attorney on information or by bringing the matter +before the Grand Jury. But the Grand Jury was not at that time +in session, and it was known that there were no funds in the +marshal's office to pay expenses for the summoning of jurors or +the serving of processes. S. Behrman and Ruggles in interviews +stated that the Railroad withdrew entirely from the fight; the +matter now, according to them, was between the Leaguers and the +United States Government; they washed their hands of the whole +business. The ranchers could settle with Washington. But it +seemed that Congress had recently forbade the use of troops for +civil purposes; the whole matter of the League-Railroad contest +was evidently for the moment to be left in status quo. + +But to Presley's mind the most important piece of news that +morning was the report of the action of the Railroad upon hearing +of the battle. + +Instantly Bonneville had been isolated. Not a single local train +was running, not one of the through trains made any halt at the +station. The mails were not moved. Further than this, by some +arrangement difficult to understand, the telegraph operators at +Bonneville and Guadalajara, acting under orders, refused to +receive any telegrams except those emanating from railway +officials. The story of the fight, the story creating the first +impression, was to be told to San Francisco and the outside world +by S. Behrman, Ruggles, and the local P. and S. W. agents. + +An hour before breakfast, the undertakers arrived and took charge +of the bodies of Harran and Annixter. Presley saw neither Hilma, +Magnus, nor Mrs. Derrick. The doctor came to look after Hilma. +He breakfasted with Mrs. Dyke and Presley, and from him Presley +learned that Hilma would recover both from the shock of her +husband's death and from her miscarriage of the previous night. + +"She ought to have her mother with her," said the physician. +"She does nothing but call for her or beg to be allowed to go to +her. I have tried to get a wire through to Mrs. Tree, but the +company will not take it, and even if I could get word to her, +how could she get down here? There are no trains." + +But Presley found that it was impossible for him to stay at Los +Muertos that day. Gloom and the shadow of tragedy brooded heavy +over the place. A great silence pervaded everything, a silence +broken only by the subdued coming and going of the undertaker and +his assistants. When Presley, having resolved to go into +Bonneville, came out through the doorway of the house, he found +the undertaker tying a long strip of crape to the bell-handle. + +Presley saddled his pony and rode into town. By this time, after +long hours of continued reflection upon one subject, a sombre +brooding malevolence, a deep-seated desire of revenge, had grown +big within his mind. The first numbness had passed off; +familiarity with what had been done had blunted the edge of +horror, and now the impulse of retaliation prevailed. At first, +the sullen anger of defeat, the sense of outrage, had only +smouldered, but the more he brooded, the fiercer flamed his rage. +Sudden paroxysms of wrath gripped him by the throat; abrupt +outbursts of fury injected his eyes with blood. He ground his +teeth, his mouth filled with curses, his hands clenched till they +grew white and bloodless. Was the Railroad to triumph then in +the end? After all those months of preparation, after all those +grandiloquent resolutions, after all the arrogant presumption of +the League! The League! what a farce; what had it amounted to +when the crisis came? Was the Trust to crush them all so easily? +Was S. Behrman to swallow Los Muertos? S. Behrman! Presley saw +him plainly, huge, rotund, white; saw his jowl tremulous and +obese, the roll of fat over his collar sprinkled with sparse +hairs, the great stomach with its brown linen vest and heavy +watch chain of hollow links, clinking against the buttons of +imitation pearl. And this man was to crush Magnus Derrick--had +already stamped the life from such men as Harran and Annixter. +This man, in the name of the Trust, was to grab Los Muertos as he +had grabbed Quien Sabe, and after Los Muertos, Broderson's ranch, +then Osterman's, then others, and still others, the whole valley, +the whole State. + +Presley beat his forehead with his clenched fist as he rode on. + +"No," he cried, "no, kill him, kill him, kill him with my hands." + +The idea of it put him beside himself. Oh, to sink his fingers +deep into the white, fat throat of the man, to clutch like iron +into the great puffed jowl of him, to wrench out the life, to +batter it out, strangle it out, to pay him back for the long +years of extortion and oppression, to square accounts for bribed +jurors, bought judges, corrupted legislatures, to have justice +for the trick of the Ranchers' Railroad Commission, the +charlatanism of the "ten per cent. cut," the ruin of Dyke, the +seizure of Quien Sabe, the murder of Harran, the assassination of +Annixter! + +It was in such mood that he reached Caraher's. The saloon-keeper +had just opened his place and was standing in his doorway, +smoking his pipe. Presley dismounted and went in and the two had +a long talk. + +When, three hours later, Presley came out of the saloon and rode +on towards Bonneville, his face was very pale, his lips shut +tight, resolute, determined. His manner was that of a man whose +mind is made up. +The hour for the mass meeting at the Opera House had been set for +one o'clock, but long before noon the street in front of the +building and, in fact, all the streets in its vicinity, were +packed from side to side with a shifting, struggling, surging, +and excited multitude. There were few women in the throng, but +hardly a single male inhabitant of either Bonneville or +Guadalajara was absent. Men had even come from Visalia and +Pixley. It was no longer the crowd of curiosity seekers that had +thronged around Hooven's place by the irrigating ditch; the +People were no longer confused, bewildered. A full realisation +of just what had been done the day before was clear now in the +minds of all. Business was suspended; nearly all the stores were +closed. Since early morning the members of the League had put in +an appearance and rode from point to point, their rifles across +their saddle pommels. Then, by ten o'clock, the streets had +begun to fill up, the groups on the corners grew and merged into +one another; pedestrians, unable to find room on the sidewalks, +took to the streets. Hourly the crowd increased till shoulders +touched and elbows, till free circulation became impeded, then +congested, then impossible. The crowd, a solid mass, was wedged +tight from store front to store front. And from all this throng, +this single unit, this living, breathing organism--the People-- +there rose a droning, terrible note. It was not yet the wild, +fierce clamour of riot and insurrection, shrill, high pitched; +but it was a beginning, the growl of the awakened brute, feeling +the iron in its flank, heaving up its head with bared teeth, the +throat vibrating to the long, indrawn snarl of wrath. + +Thus the forenoon passed, while the people, their bulk growing +hourly vaster, kept to the streets, moving slowly backward and +forward, oscillating in the grooves of the thoroughfares, the +steady, low-pitched growl rising continually into the hot, still +air. + +Then, at length, about twelve o'clock, the movement of the throng +assumed definite direction. It set towards the Opera House. +Presley, who had left his pony at the City livery stable, found +himself caught in the current and carried slowly forward in its +direction. His arms were pinioned to his sides by the press, the +crush against his body was all but rib-cracking, he could hardly +draw his breath. All around him rose and fell wave after wave of +faces, hundreds upon hundreds, thousands upon thousands, red, +lowering, sullen. All were set in one direction and slowly, +slowly they advanced, crowding closer, till they almost touched +one another. For reasons that were inexplicable, great, +tumultuous heavings, like ground-swells of an incoming tide, +surged over and through the multitude. At times, Presley, lifted +from his feet, was swept back, back, back, with the crowd, till +the entrance of the Opera House was half a block away; then, the +returning billow beat back again and swung him along, gasping, +staggering, clutching, till he was landed once more in the vortex +of frantic action in front of the foyer. Here the waves were +shorter, quicker, the crushing pressure on all sides of his body +left him without strength to utter the cry that rose to his lips; +then, suddenly the whole mass of struggling, stamping, fighting, +writhing men about him seemed, as it were, to rise, to lift, +multitudinous, swelling, gigantic. A mighty rush dashed Presley +forward in its leap. There was a moment's whirl of confused +sights, congested faces, opened mouths, bloodshot eyes, clutching +hands; a moment's outburst of furious sound, shouts, cheers, +oaths; a moment's jam wherein Presley veritably believed his ribs +must snap like pipestems and he was carried, dazed, breathless, +helpless, an atom on the crest of a storm-driven wave, up the +steps of the Opera House, on into the vestibule, through the +doors, and at last into the auditorium of the house itself. + +There was a mad rush for places; men disdaining the aisle, +stepped from one orchestra chair to another, striding over the +backs of seats, leaving the print of dusty feet upon the red +plush cushions. In a twinkling the house was filled from stage +to topmost gallery. The aisles were packed solid, even on the +edge of the stage itself men were sitting, a black fringe on +either side of the footlights. + +The curtain was up, disclosing a half-set scene,--the flats, +leaning at perilous angles,--that represented some sort of +terrace, the pavement, alternate squares of black and white +marble, while red, white, and yellow flowers were represented as +growing from urns and vases. A long, double row of chairs +stretched across the scene from wing to wing, flanking a table +covered with a red cloth, on which was set a pitcher of water and +a speaker's gavel. + +Promptly these chairs were filled up with members of the League, +the audience cheering as certain well-known figures made their +appearance--Garnett of the Ruby ranch, Gethings of the San Pablo, +Keast of the ranch of the same name, Chattern of the Bonanza, +elderly men, bearded, slow of speech, deliberate. + +Garnett opened the meeting; his speech was plain, +straightforward, matter-of-fact. He simply told what had +happened. He announced that certain resolutions were to be drawn +up. He introduced the next speaker. + +This one pleaded for moderation. He was conservative. All along +he had opposed the idea of armed resistance except as the very +last resort. He "deplored" the terrible affair of yesterday. He +begged the people to wait in patience, to attempt no more +violence. He informed them that armed guards of the League were, +at that moment, patrolling Los Muertos, Broderson's, and +Osterman's. It was well known that the United States marshal +confessed himself powerless to serve the writs. There would be +no more bloodshed. + +"We have had," he continued, "bloodshed enough, and I want to say +right here that I am not so sure but what yesterday's terrible +affair might have been avoided. A gentleman whom we all esteem, +who from the first has been our recognised leader, is, at this +moment, mourning the loss of a young son, killed before his eyes. +God knows that I sympathise, as do we all, in the affliction of +our President. I am sorry for him. My heart goes out to him in +this hour of distress, but, at the same time, the position of the +League must be defined. We owe it to ourselves, we owe it to the +people of this county. The League armed for the very purpose of +preserving the peace, not of breaking it. We believed that with +six hundred armed and drilled men at our disposal, ready to +muster at a moment's call, we could so overawe any attempt to +expel us from our lands that such an attempt would not be made +until the cases pending before the Supreme Court had been +decided. If when the enemy appeared in our midst yesterday they +had been met by six hundred rifles, it is not conceivable that +the issue would have been forced. No fight would have ensued, +and to-day we would not have to mourn the deaths of four of our +fellow-citizens. A mistake has been made and we of the League +must not be held responsible." + +The speaker sat down amidst loud applause from the Leaguers and +less pronounced demonstrations on the part of the audience. + +A second Leaguer took his place, a tall, clumsy man, half- +rancher, half-politician. + +"I want to second what my colleague has just said," he began. +"This matter of resisting the marshal when he tried to put the +Railroad dummies in possession on the ranches around here, was +all talked over in the committee meetings of the League long ago. +It never was our intention to fire a single shot. No such +absolute authority as was assumed yesterday was delegated to +anybody. Our esteemed President is all right, but we all know +that he is a man who loves authority and who likes to go his own +gait without accounting to anybody. We--the rest of us Leaguers-- +never were informed as to what was going on. We supposed, of +course, that watch was being kept on the Railroad so as we +wouldn't be taken by surprise as we were yesterday. And it seems +no watch was kept at all, or if there was, it was mighty +ineffective. Our idea was to forestall any movement on the part +of the Railroad and then when we knew the marshal was coming +down, to call a meeting of our Executive Committee and decide as +to what should be done. We ought to have had time to call out +the whole League. Instead of that, what happens? While we're +all off chasing rabbits, the Railroad is allowed to steal a march +on us and when it is too late, a handful of Leaguers is got +together and a fight is precipitated and our men killed. I'M +sorry for our President, too. No one is more so, but I want to +put myself on record as believing he did a hasty and +inconsiderate thing. If he had managed right, he could have had +six hundred men to oppose the Railroad and there would not have +been any gun fight or any killing. He DIDN'T manage right and +there WAS a killing and I don't see as how the League ought to be +held responsible. The idea of the League, the whole reason why +it was organised, was to protect ALL the ranches of this valley +from the Railroad, and it looks to me as if the lives of our +fellow-citizens had been sacrificed, not in defending ALL of our +ranches, but just in defence of one of them--Los Muertos--the one +that Mr. Derrick owns." + +The speaker had no more than regained his seat when a man was +seen pushing his way from the back of the stage towards Garnett. +He handed the rancher a note, at the same time whispering in his +ear. Garnett read the note, then came forward to the edge of the +stage, holding up his hand. When the audience had fallen silent +he said: + +"I have just received sad news. Our friend and fellow-citizen, +Mr. Osterman, died this morning between eleven and twelve +o'clock." + +Instantly there was a roar. Every man in the building rose to +his feet, shouting, gesticulating. The roar increased, the Opera +House trembled to it, the gas jets in the lighted chandeliers +vibrated to it. It was a raucous howl of execration, a bellow of +rage, inarticulate, deafening. + +A tornado of confusion swept whirling from wall to wall and the +madness of the moment seized irresistibly upon Presley. He +forgot himself; he no longer was master of his emotions or his +impulses. All at once he found himself upon the stage, facing +the audience, flaming with excitement, his imagination on fire, +his arms uplifted in fierce, wild gestures, words leaping to his +mind in a torrent that could not be withheld. + +"One more dead," he cried, "one more. Harran dead, Annixter +dead, Broderson dead, Dabney dead, Osterman dead, Hooven dead; +shot down, killed, killed in the defence of their homes, killed +in the defence of their rights, killed for the sake of liberty. +How long must it go on? How long must we suffer? Where is the +end; what is the end? How long must the iron-hearted monster +feed on our life's blood? How long must this terror of steam and +steel ride upon our necks? Will you never be satisfied, will you +never relent, you, our masters, you, our lords, you, our kings, +you, our task-masters, you, our Pharoahs. Will you never listen +to that command 'LET MY PEOPLE GO'? Oh, that cry ringing down +the ages. Hear it, hear it. It is the voice of the Lord God +speaking in his prophets. Hear it, hear it--'Let My people go!' +Rameses heard it in his pylons at Thebes, Caesar heard it on the +Palatine, the Bourbon Louis heard it at Versailles, Charles +Stuart heard it at Whitehall, the white Czar heard it in the +Kremlin,--'LET MY PEOPLE GO.' It is the cry of the nations, the +great voice of the centuries; everywhere it is raised. The voice +of God is the voice of the People. The people cry out 'Let us, +the People, God's people, go.' You, our masters, you, our kings, +you, our tyrants, don't you hear us? Don't you hear God speaking +in us? Will you never let us go? How long at length will you +abuse our patience? How long will you drive us? How long will +you harass us? Will nothing daunt you? Does nothing check you? +Do you not know that to ignore our cry too long is to wake the +Red Terror? Rameses refused to listen to it and perished +miserably. Caesar refused to listen and was stabbed in the +Senate House. The Bourbon Louis refused to listen and died on +the guillotine; Charles Stuart refused to listen and died on the +block; the white Czar refused to listen and was blown up in his +own capital. Will you let it come to that? Will you drive us to +it? We who boast of our land of freedom, we who live in the +country of liberty? +"Go on as you have begun and it WILL come to that. Turn a deaf +ear to that cry of 'Let My people go' too long and another cry +will be raised, that you cannot choose but hear, a cry that you +cannot shut out. It will be the cry of the man on the street, +the 'a la Bastille' that wakes the Red Terror and unleashes +Revolution. Harassed, plundered, exasperated, desperate, the +people will turn at last as they have turned so many, many times +before. You, our lords, you, our task-masters, you, our kings; +you have caught your Samson, you have made his strength your own. +You have shorn his head; you have put out his eyes; you have set +him to turn your millstones, to grind the grist for your mills; +you have made him a shame and a mock. Take care, oh, as you love +your lives, take care, lest some day calling upon the Lord his +God he reach not out his arms for the pillars of your temples." + +The audience, at first bewildered, confused by this unexpected +invective, suddenly took fire at his last words. There was a +roar of applause; then, more significant than mere vociferation, +Presley's listeners, as he began to speak again, grew suddenly +silent. His next sentences were uttered in the midst of a +profound stillness. + +"They own us, these task-masters of ours; they own our homes, +they own our legislatures. We cannot escape from them. There is +no redress. We are told we can defeat them by the ballot-box. +They own the ballot-box. We are told that we must look to the +courts for redress; they own the courts. We know them for what +they are,--ruffians in politics, ruffians in finance, ruffians in +law, ruffians in trade, bribers, swindlers, and tricksters. No +outrage too great to daunt them, no petty larceny too small to +shame them; despoiling a government treasury of a million +dollars, yet picking the pockets of a farm hand of the price of a +loaf of bread. + +"They swindle a nation of a hundred million and call it +Financiering; they levy a blackmail and call it Commerce; they +corrupt a legislature and call it Politics; they bribe a judge +and call it Law; they hire blacklegs to carry out their plans and +call it Organisation; they prostitute the honour of a State and +call it Competition. + +"And this is America. We fought Lexington to free ourselves; we +fought Gettysburg to free others. Yet the yoke remains; we have +only shifted it to the other shoulder. We talk of liberty--oh, +the farce of it, oh, the folly of it! We tell ourselves and +teach our children that we have achieved liberty, that we no +longer need fight for it. Why, the fight is just beginning and +so long as our conception of liberty remains as it is to-day, it +will continue. + +"For we conceive of Liberty in the statues we raise to her as a +beautiful woman, crowned, victorious, in bright armour and white +robes, a light in her uplifted hand--a serene, calm, conquering +goddess. Oh, the farce of it, oh, the folly of it! Liberty is +NOT a crowned goddess, beautiful, in spotless garments, +victorious, supreme. Liberty is the Man In the Street, a +terrible figure, rushing through powder smoke, fouled with the +mud and ordure of the gutter, bloody, rampant, brutal, yelling +curses, in one hand a smoking rifle, in the other, a blazing +torch. + +"Freedom is NOT given free to any who ask; Liberty is not born of +the gods. She is a child of the People, born in the very height +and heat of battle, born from death, stained with blood, grimed +with powder. And she grows to be not a goddess, but a Fury, a +fearful figure, slaying friend and foe alike, raging, insatiable, +merciless, the Red Terror." + +Presley ceased speaking. Weak, shaking, scarcely knowing what he +was about, he descended from the stage. A prolonged explosion of +applause followed, the Opera House roaring to the roof, men +cheering, stamping, waving their hats. But it was not +intelligent applause. Instinctively as he made his way out, +Presley knew that, after all, he had not once held the hearts of +his audience. He had talked as he would have written; for all +his scorn of literature, he had been literary. The men who +listened to him, ranchers, country people, store-keepers, +attentive though they were, were not once sympathetic. Vaguely +they had felt that here was something which other men--more +educated--would possibly consider eloquent. They applauded +vociferously but perfunctorily, in order to appear to understand. + +Presley, for all his love of the people, saw clearly for one +moment that he was an outsider to their minds. He had not helped +them nor their cause in the least; he never would. + +Disappointed, bewildered, ashamed, he made his way slowly from +the Opera House and stood on the steps outside, thoughtful, his +head bent. + +He had failed, thus he told himself. In that moment of crisis, +that at the time he believed had been an inspiration, he had +failed. The people would not consider him, would not believe +that he could do them service. Then suddenly he seemed to +remember. The resolute set of his lips returned once more. +Pushing his way through the crowded streets, he went on towards +the stable where he had left his pony. + +Meanwhile, in the Opera House, a great commotion had occurred. +Magnus Derrick had appeared. + +Only a sense of enormous responsibility, of gravest duty could +have prevailed upon Magnus to have left his house and the dead +body of his son that day. But he was the President of the +League, and never since its organisation had a meeting of such +importance as this one been held. He had been in command at the +irrigating ditch the day before. It was he who had gathered the +handful of Leaguers together. It was he who must bear the +responsibility of the fight. + +When he had entered the Opera House, making his way down the +central aisle towards the stage, a loud disturbance had broken +out, partly applause, partly a meaningless uproar. Many had +pressed forward to shake his hand, but others were not found +wanting who, formerly his staunch supporters, now scenting +opposition in the air, held back, hesitating, afraid to +compromise themselves by adhering to the fortunes of a man whose +actions might be discredited by the very organisation of which he +was the head. + +Declining to take the chair of presiding officer which Garnett +offered him, the Governor withdrew to an angle of the stage, +where he was joined by Keast. + +This one, still unalterably devoted to Magnus, acquainted him +briefly with the tenor of the speeches that had been made. + +"I am ashamed of them, Governor," he protested indignantly, "to +lose their nerve now! To fail you now! it makes my blood boil. +If you had succeeded yesterday, if all had gone well, do you +think we would have heard of any talk of 'assumption of +authority,' or 'acting without advice and consent'? As if there +was any time to call a meeting of the Executive Committee. If +you hadn't acted as you did, the whole county would have been +grabbed by the Railroad. Get up, Governor, and bring 'em all up +standing. Just tear 'em all to pieces, show 'em that you are the +head, the boss. That's what they need. That killing yesterday +has shaken the nerve clean out of them." + +For the instant the Governor was taken all aback. What, his +lieutenants were failing him? What, he was to be questioned, +interpolated upon yesterday's "irrepressible conflict"? Had +disaffection appeared in the ranks of the League--at this, of all +moments? He put from him his terrible grief. The cause was in +danger. At the instant he was the President of the League only, +the chief, the master. A royal anger surged within him, a wide, +towering scorn of opposition. He would crush this disaffection +in its incipiency, would vindicate himself and strengthen the +cause at one and the same time. He stepped forward and stood in +the speaker's place, turning partly toward the audience, partly +toward the assembled Leaguers. + +"Gentlemen of the League," he began, "citizens of Bonneville" + +But at once the silence in which the Governor had begun to speak +was broken by a shout. It was as though his words had furnished +a signal. In a certain quarter of the gallery, directly +opposite, a man arose, and in a voice partly of derision, partly +of defiance, cried out: + +"How about the bribery of those two delegates at Sacramento? +Tell us about that. That's what we want to hear about." + +A great confusion broke out. The first cry was repeated not only +by the original speaker, but by a whole group of which he was but +a part. Others in the audience, however, seeing in the +disturbance only the clamour of a few Railroad supporters, +attempted to howl them down, hissing vigorously and exclaiming: + +"Put 'em out, put 'em out." + +"Order, order," called Garnett, pounding with his gavel. The +whole Opera House was in an uproar. + +But the interruption of the Governor's speech was evidently not +unpremeditated. It began to look like a deliberate and planned +attack. Persistently, doggedly, the group in the gallery +vociferated: +"Tell us how you bribed the delegates at Sacramento. Before you +throw mud at the Railroad, let's see if you are clean yourself." + +"Put 'em out, put 'em out." + +"Briber, briber--Magnus Derrick, unconvicted briber! Put him +out. + +Keast, beside himself with anger, pushed down the aisle +underneath where the recalcitrant group had its place and, +shaking his fist, called up at them: + +"You were paid to break up this meeting. If you have anything to +say; you will be afforded the opportunity, but if you do not let +the gentleman proceed, the police will be called upon to put you +out." + +But at this, the man who had raised the first shout leaned over +the balcony rail, and, his face flaming with wrath, shouted: + +"YAH! talk to me of your police. Look out we don't call on them +first to arrest your President for bribery. You and your howl +about law and justice and corruption! Here "--he turned to the +audience--" read about him, read the story of how the Sacramento +convention was bought by Magnus Derrick, President of the San +Joaquin League. Here's the facts printed and proved." + +With the words, he stooped down and from under his seat dragged +forth a great package of extra editions of the "Bonneville +Mercury," not an hour off the presses. Other equally large +bundles of the paper appeared in the hands of the surrounding +group. The strings were cut and in handfuls and armfuls the +papers were flung out over the heads of the audience underneath. +The air was full of the flutter of the newly printed sheets. +They swarmed over the rim of the gallery like clouds of +monstrous, winged insects, settled upon the heads and into the +hands of the audience, were passed swiftly from man to man, and +within five minutes of the first outbreak every one in the Opera +House had read Genslinger's detailed and substantiated account of +Magnus Derrick's "deal" with the political bosses of the +Sacramento convention. + +Genslinger, after pocketing the Governor's hush money, had "sold +him out." + +Keast, one quiver of indignation, made his way back upon the +stage. The Leaguers were in wild confusion. Half the assembly +of them were on their feet, bewildered, shouting vaguely. From +proscenium wall to foyer, the Opera House was a tumult of noise. +The gleam of the thousands of the "Mercury" extras was like the +flash of white caps on a troubled sea. + +Keast faced the audience. + +"Liars," he shouted, striving with all the power of his voice to +dominate the clamour, "liars and slanderers. Your paper is the +paid organ of the corporation. You have not one shadow of proof +to back you up. Do you choose this, of all times, to heap your +calumny upon the head of an honourable gentleman, already +prostrated by your murder of his son? Proofs--we demand your +proofs!" + +"We've got the very assemblymen themselves," came back the +answering shout. "Let Derrick speak. Where is he hiding? If +this is a lie, let him deny it. Let HIM DISPROVE the charge." +"Derrick, Derrick," thundered the Opera House. + +Keast wheeled about. Where was Magnus? He was not in sight upon +the stage. He had disappeared. Crowding through the throng of +Leaguers, Keast got from off the stage into the wings. Here the +crowd was no less dense. Nearly every one had a copy of the +"Mercury." It was being read aloud to groups here and there, and +once Keast overheard the words, "Say, I wonder if this is true, +after all?" + +"Well, and even if it was," cried Keast, turning upon the +speaker, "we should be the last ones to kick. In any case, it +was done for our benefit. It elected the Ranchers' Commission." + +"A lot of benefit we got out of the Ranchers' Commission," +retorted the other. + +"And then," protested a third speaker, "that ain't the way to do-- +if he DID do it--bribing legislatures. Why, we were bucking +against corrupt politics. We couldn't afford to be corrupt." + +Keast turned away with a gesture of impatience. He pushed his +way farther on. At last, opening a small door in a hallway back +of the stage, he came upon Magnus. + +The room was tiny. It was a dressing-room. Only two nights +before it had been used by the leading actress of a comic opera +troupe which had played for three nights at Bonneville. A +tattered sofa and limping toilet table occupied a third of the +space. The air was heavy with the smell of stale grease paint, +ointments, and sachet. Faded photographs of young women in +tights and gauzes ornamented the mirror and the walls. +Underneath the sofa was an old pair of corsets. The spangled +skirt of a pink dress, turned inside out, hung against the wall. + +And in the midst of such environment, surrounded by an excited +group of men who gesticulated and shouted in his very face, pale, +alert, agitated, his thin lips pressed tightly together, stood +Magnus Derrick. + +"Here," cried Keast, as he entered, closing the door behind him, +"where's the Governor? Here, Magnus, I've been looking for you. +The crowd has gone wild out there. You've got to talk 'em down. +Come out there and give those blacklegs the lie. They are saying +you are hiding." + +But before Magnus could reply, Garnett turned to Keast. + +"Well, that's what we want him to do, and he won't do it." + +"Yes, yes," cried the half-dozen men who crowded around Magnus, +"yes, that's what we want him to do." + +Keast turned to Magnus. + +"Why, what's all this, Governor?" he exclaimed. "You've got to +answer that. Hey? why don't you give 'em the lie?" + +"I--I," Magnus loosened the collar about his throat "it is a lie. +I will not stoop--I would not--would be--it would be beneath my-- +my--it would be beneath me." + +Keast stared in amazement. Was this the Great Man the Leader, +indomitable, of Roman integrity, of Roman valour, before whose +voice whole conventions had quailed? Was it possible he was +AFRAID to face those hired villifiers? + +"Well, how about this?" demanded Garnett suddenly. "It is a lie, +isn't it? That Commission was elected honestly, wasn't it?" + +"How dare you, sir!" Magnus burst out. "How dare you question +me--call me to account! Please understand, sir, that I tolerate----" + +"Oh, quit it!" cried a voice from the group. "You can't scare +us, Derrick. That sort of talk was well enough once, but it +don't go any more. We want a yes or no answer." + +It was gone--that old-time power of mastery, that faculty of +command. The ground crumbled beneath his feet. Long since it +had been, by his own hand, undermined. Authority was gone. Why +keep up this miserable sham any longer? Could they not read the +lie in his face, in his voice? What a folly to maintain the +wretched pretence! He had failed. He was ruined. Harran was +gone. His ranch would soon go; his money was gone. Lyman was +worse than dead. His own honour had been prostituted. Gone, +gone, everything he held dear, gone, lost, and swept away in that +fierce struggle. And suddenly and all in a moment the last +remaining shells of the fabric of his being, the sham that had +stood already wonderfully long, cracked and collapsed. + +"Was the Commission honestly elected?" insisted Garnett. "Were +the delegates--did you bribe the delegates?" + +"We were obliged to shut our eyes to means," faltered Magnus. +"There was no other way to--" Then suddenly and with the last +dregs of his resolution, he concluded with: "Yes, I gave them two +thousand dollars each." + +"Oh, hell! Oh, my God!" exclaimed Keast, sitting swiftly down +upon the ragged sofa. + +There was a long silence. A sense of poignant embarrassment +descended upon those present. No one knew what to say or where +to look. Garnett, with a laboured attempt at nonchalance, +murmured: + +"I see. Well, that's what I was trying to get at. Yes, I see." + +"Well," said Gethings at length, bestirring himself, "I guess +I'LL go home." + +There was a movement. The group broke up, the men making for the +door. One by one they went out. The last to go was Keast. He +came up to Magnus and shook the Governor's limp hand. + +"Good-bye, Governor," he said. "I'll see you again pretty soon. +Don't let this discourage you. They'll come around all right +after a while. So long." + +He went out, shutting the door. + +And seated in the one chair of the room, Magnus Derrick remained +a long time, looking at his face in the cracked mirror that for +so many years had reflected the painted faces of soubrettes, in +this atmosphere of stale perfume and mouldy rice powder. + +It had come--his fall, his ruin. After so many years of +integrity and honest battle, his life had ended here--in an +actress's dressing-room, deserted by his friends, his son +murdered, his dishonesty known, an old man, broken, discarded, +discredited, and abandoned. +Before nightfall of that day, Bonneville was further excited by +an astonishing bit of news. S. Behrman lived in a detached house +at some distance from the town, surrounded by a grove of live oak +and eucalyptus trees. At a little after half-past six, as he was +sitting down to his supper, a bomb was thrown through the window +of his dining-room, exploding near the doorway leading into the +hall. The room was wrecked and nearly every window of the house +shattered. By a miracle, S. Behrman, himself, remained +untouched. + + +VIII + + +On a certain afternoon in the early part of July, about a month +after the fight at the irrigating ditch and the mass meeting at +Bonneville, Cedarquist, at the moment opening his mail in his +office in San Francisco, was genuinely surprised to receive a +visit from Presley. + +"Well, upon my word, Pres," exclaimed the manufacturer, as the +young man came in through the door that the office boy held open +for him, "upon my word, have you been sick? Sit down, my boy. +Have a glass of sherry. I always keep a bottle here." + +Presley accepted the wine and sank into the depths of a great +leather chair near by. + +"Sick?" he answered. "Yes, I have been sick. I'm sick now. I'm +gone to pieces, sir." + +His manner was the extreme of listlessness--the listlessness of +great fatigue. "Well, well," observed the other. "I'm right +sorry to hear that. What's the trouble, Pres?" + +"Oh, nerves mostly, I suppose, and my head, and insomnia, and +weakness, a general collapse all along the line, the doctor tells +me. 'Over-cerebration,' he says; 'over-excitement.' I fancy I +rather narrowly missed brain fever." + +"Well, I can easily suppose it," answered Cedarquist gravely, +"after all you have been through." + +Presley closed his eyes--they were sunken in circles of dark +brown flesh--and pressed a thin hand to the back of his head. + +"It is a nightmare," he murmured. "A frightful nightmare, and +it's not over yet. You have heard of it all only through the +newspaper reports. But down there, at Bonneville, at Los +Muertos--oh, you can have no idea of it, of the misery caused by +the defeat of the ranchers and by this decision of the Supreme +Court that dispossesses them all. We had gone on hoping to the +last that we would win there. We had thought that in the Supreme +Court of the United States, at least, we could find justice. And +the news of its decision was the worst, last blow of all. For +Magnus it was the last--positively the very last." + +"Poor, poor Derrick," murmured Cedarquist. "Tell me about him, +Pres. How does he take it? What is he going to do?" + +"It beggars him, sir. He sunk a great deal more than any of us +believed in his ranch, when he resolved to turn off most of the +tenants and farm the ranch himself. Then the fight he made +against the Railroad in the Courts and the political campaign he +went into, to get Lyman on the Railroad Commission, took more of +it. The money that Genslinger blackmailed him of, it seems, was +about all he had left. He had been gambling--you know the +Governor--on another bonanza crop this year to recoup him. Well, +the bonanza came right enough--just in time for S. Behrman and +the Railroad to grab it. Magnus is ruined." + +"What a tragedy! what a tragedy!" murmured the other. "Lyman +turning rascal, Harran killed, and now this; and all within so +short a time--all at the SAME time, you might almost say." + +"If it had only killed him," continued Presley; "but that is the +worst of it." + +"How the worst?" + +"I'm afraid, honestly, I'm afraid it is going to turn his wits, +sir. It's broken him; oh, you should see him, you should see +him. A shambling, stooping, trembling old man, in his dotage +already. He sits all day in the dining-room, turning over +papers, sorting them, tying them up, opening them again, +forgetting them--all fumbling and mumbling and confused. And at +table sometimes he forgets to eat. And, listen, you know, from +the house we can hear the trains whistling for the Long Trestle. +As often as that happens the Governor seems to be--oh, I don't +know, frightened. He will sink his head between his shoulders, +as though he were dodging something, and he won't fetch a long +breath again till the train is out of hearing. He seems to have +conceived an abject, unreasoned terror of the Railroad." + +"But he will have to leave Los Muertos now, of course?" + +"Yes, they will all have to leave. They have a fortnight more. +The few tenants that were still on Los Muertos are leaving. That +is one thing that brings me to the city. The family of one of +the men who was killed--Hooven was his name--have come to the +city to find work. I think they are liable to be in great +distress, unless they have been wonderfully lucky, and I am +trying to find them in order to look after them." + +"You need looking after yourself, Pres." + +"Oh, once away from Bonneville and the sight of the ruin there, +I'm better. But I intend to go away. And that makes me think, I +came to ask you if you could help me. If you would let me take +passage on one of your wheat ships. The Doctor says an ocean +voyage would set me up." + +"Why, certainly, Pres," declared Cedarquist. "But I'm sorry +you'll have to go. We expected to have you down in the country +with us this winter." + +Presley shook his head. +"No," he answered. "I must go. Even if I had all my health, I +could not bring myself to stay in California just now. If you +can introduce me to one of your captains" + +"With pleasure. When do you want to go? You may have to wait a +few weeks. Our first ship won't clear till the end of the +month." + +"That would do very well. Thank you, sir." + +But Cedarquist was still interested in the land troubles of the +Bonneville farmers, and took the first occasion to ask: + +"So, the Railroad are in possession on most of the ranches?" +"On all of them," returned Presley. "The League went all to +pieces, so soon as Magnus was forced to resign. The old story-- +they got quarrelling among themselves. Somebody started a +compromise party, and upon that issue a new president was +elected. Then there were defections. The Railroad offered to +lease the lands in question to the ranchers--the ranchers who +owned them," he exclaimed bitterly, "and because the terms were +nominal--almost nothing--plenty of the men took the chance of +saving themselves. And, of course, once signing the lease, they +acknowledged the Railroad's title. But the road would not lease +to Magnus. S. Behrman takes over Los Muertos in a few weeks +now." + +"No doubt, the road made over their title in the property to +him," observed Cedarquist, "as a reward of his services." + +"No doubt," murmured Presley wearily. He rose to go. + +"By the way," said Cedarquist, "what have you on hand for, let us +say, Friday evening? Won't you dine with us then? The girls are +going to the country Monday of next week, and you probably won't +see them again for some time if you take that ocean voyage of +yours." + +"I'm afraid I shall be very poor company, sir," hazarded Presley. +"There's no 'go,' no life in me at all these days. I am like a +clock with a broken spring." + +"Not broken, Pres, my boy;" urged the other, "only run down. Try +and see if we can't wind you up a bit. Say that we can expect +you. We dine at seven." + +"Thank you, sir. Till Friday at seven, then." + +Regaining the street, Presley sent his valise to his club (where +he had engaged a room) by a messenger boy, and boarded a Castro +Street car. Before leaving Bonneville, he had ascertained, by +strenuous enquiry, Mrs. Hooven's address in the city, and +thitherward he now directed his steps. + +When Presley had told Cedarquist that he was ill, that he was +jaded, worn out, he had only told half the truth. Exhausted he +was, nerveless, weak, but this apathy was still invaded from time +to time with fierce incursions of a spirit of unrest and revolt, +reactions, momentary returns of the blind, undirected energy that +at one time had prompted him to a vast desire to acquit himself +of some terrible deed of readjustment, just what, he could not +say, some terrifying martyrdom, some awe-inspiring immolation, +consummate, incisive, conclusive. He fancied himself to be fired +with the purblind, mistaken heroism of the anarchist, hurling his +victim to destruction with full knowledge that the catastrophe +shall sweep him also into the vortex it creates. + +But his constitutional irresoluteness obstructed his path +continually; brain-sick, weak of will, emotional, timid even, he +temporised, procrastinated, brooded; came to decisions in the +dark hours of the night, only to abandon them in the morning. + +Once only he had ACTED. And at this moment, as he was carried +through the windy, squalid streets, he trembled at the +remembrance of it. The horror of "what might have been" +incompatible with the vengeance whose minister he fancied he was, +oppressed him. The scene perpetually reconstructed itself in his +imagination. He saw himself under the shade of the encompassing +trees and shrubbery, creeping on his belly toward the house, in +the suburbs of Bonneville, watching his chances, seizing +opportunities, spying upon the lighted windows where the raised +curtains afforded a view of the interior. Then had come the +appearance in the glare of the gas of the figure of the man for +whom he waited. He saw himself rise and run forward. He +remembered the feel and weight in his hand of Caraher's bomb--the +six inches of plugged gas pipe. His upraised arm shot forward. +There was a shiver of smashed window-panes, then--a void--a red +whirl of confusion, the air rent, the ground rocking, himself +flung headlong, flung off the spinning circumference of things +out into a place of terror and vacancy and darkness. And then +after a long time the return of reason, the consciousness that +his feet were set upon the road to Los Muertos, and that he was +fleeing terror-stricken, gasping, all but insane with hysteria. +Then the never-to-be-forgotten night that ensued, when he +descended into the pit, horrified at what he supposed he had +done, at one moment ridden with remorse, at another raging +against his own feebleness, his lack of courage, his wretched, +vacillating spirit. But morning had come, and with it the +knowledge that he had failed, and the baser assurance that he was +not even remotely suspected. His own escape had been no less +miraculous than that of his enemy, and he had fallen on his knees +in inarticulate prayer, weeping, pouring out his thanks to God +for the deliverance from the gulf to the very brink of which his +feet had been drawn. + +After this, however, there had come to Presley a deep-rooted +suspicion that he was--of all human beings, the most wretched--a +failure. Everything to which he had set his mind failed--his +great epic, his efforts to help the people who surrounded him, +even his attempted destruction of the enemy, all these had come +to nothing. Girding his shattered strength together, he resolved +upon one last attempt to live up to the best that was in him, and +to that end had set himself to lift out of the despair into which +they had been thrust, the bereaved family of the German, Hooven. + +After all was over, and Hooven, together with the seven others +who had fallen at the irrigating ditch, was buried in the +Bonneville cemetery, Mrs. Hooven, asking no one's aid or advice, +and taking with her Minna and little Hilda, had gone to San +Francisco--had gone to find work, abandoning Los Muertos and her +home forever. Presley only learned of the departure of the +family after fifteen days had elapsed. + +At once, however, the suspicion forced itself upon him that Mrs. +Hooven--and Minna, too for the matter of that--country-bred, +ignorant of city ways, might easily come to grief in the hard, +huge struggle of city life. This suspicion had swiftly hardened +to a conviction, acting at last upon which Presley had followed +them to San Francisco, bent upon finding and assisting them. + +The house to which Presley was led by the address in his +memorandum book was a cheap but fairly decent hotel near the +power house of the Castro Street cable. He inquired for Mrs. +Hooven. + +The landlady recollected the Hoovens perfectly. + +"German woman, with a little girl-baby, and an older daughter, +sure. The older daughter was main pretty. Sure I remember them, +but they ain't here no more. They left a week ago. I had to ask +them for their room. + +As it was, they owed a week's room-rent. Mister, I can't afford----" + +"Well, do you know where they went? Did you hear what address +they had their trunk expressed to?" + +"Ah, yes, their trunk," vociferated the woman, clapping her hands +to her hips, her face purpling. "Their trunk, ah, sure. I got +their trunk, and what are you going to do about it? I'm holding +it till I get my money. What have you got to say about it? +Let's hear it." + +Presley turned away with a gesture of discouragement, his heart +sinking. On the street corner he stood for a long time, frowning +in trouble and perplexity. His suspicions had been only too well +founded. So long ago as a week, the Hoovens had exhausted all +their little store of money. For seven days now they had been +without resources, unless, indeed, work had been found; "and +what," he asked himself, "what work in God's name could they find +to do here in the city?" + +Seven days! He quailed at the thought of it. Seven days without +money, knowing not a soul in all that swarming city. Ignorant of +city life as both Minna and her mother were, would they even +realise that there were institutions built and generously endowed +for just such as they? He knew them to have their share of +pride, the dogged sullen pride of the peasant; even if they knew +of charitable organisations, would they, could they bring +themselves to apply there? A poignant anxiety thrust itself +sharply into Presley's heart. Where were they now? Where had +they slept last night? Where breakfasted this morning? Had +there even been any breakfast this morning? Had there even been +any bed last night? Lost, and forgotten in the plexus of the +city's life, what had befallen them? Towards what fate was the +ebb tide of the streets drifting them? + +Was this to be still another theme wrought out by iron hands upon +the old, the world-old, world-wide keynote? How far were the +consequences of that dreadful day's work at the irrigating ditch +to reach? To what length was the tentacle of the monster to +extend? + +Presley returned toward the central, the business quarter of the +city, alternately formulating and dismissing from his mind plan +after plan for the finding and aiding of Mrs. Hooven and her +daughters. He reached Montgomery Street, and turned toward his +club, his imagination once more reviewing all the causes and +circumstances of the great battle of which for the last eighteen +months he had been witness. + +All at once he paused, his eye caught by a sign affixed to the +wall just inside the street entrance of a huge office building, +and smitten with an idea, stood for an instant motionless, upon +the sidewalk, his eyes wide, his fists shut tight. + +The building contained the General Office of the Pacific and +Southwestern Railroad. Large though it was, it nevertheless, was +not pretentious, and during his visits to the city, Presley must +have passed it, unheeding, many times. + +But for all that it was the stronghold of the enemy--the centre +of all that vast ramifying system of arteries that drained the +life-blood of the State; the nucleus of the web in which so many +lives, so many fortunes, so many destinies had been enmeshed. +From this place--so he told himself--had emanated that policy of +extortion, oppression and injustice that little by little had +shouldered the ranchers from their rights, till, their backs to +the wall, exasperated and despairing they had turned and fought +and died. From here had come the orders to S. Behrman, to Cyrus +Ruggles and to Genslinger, the orders that had brought Dyke to a +prison, that had killed Annixter, that had ruined Magnus, that +had corrupted Lyman. Here was the keep of the castle, and here, +behind one of those many windows, in one of those many offices, +his hand upon the levers of his mighty engine, sat the master, +Shelgrim himself. + +Instantly, upon the realisation of this fact an ungovernable +desire seized upon Presley, an inordinate curiosity. Why not +see, face to face, the man whose power was so vast, whose will +was so resistless, whose potency for evil so limitless, the man +who for so long and so hopelessly they had all been fighting. By +reputation he knew him to be approachable; why should he not then +approach him? Presley took his resolution in both hands. If he +failed to act upon this impulse, he knew he would never act at +all. His heart beating, his breath coming short, he entered the +building, and in a few moments found himself seated in an ante- +room, his eyes fixed with hypnotic intensity upon the frosted +pane of an adjoining door, whereon in gold letters was inscribed +the word, "PRESIDENT." + +In the end, Presley had been surprised to find that Shelgrim was +still in. It was already very late, after six o'clock, and the +other offices in the building were in the act of closing. Many +of them were already deserted. At every instant, through the +open door of the ante-room, he caught a glimpse of clerks, office +boys, book-keepers, and other employees hurrying towards the +stairs and elevators, quitting business for the day. Shelgrim, +it seemed, still remained at his desk, knowing no fatigue, +requiring no leisure. + +"What time does Mr. Shelgrim usually go home?" inquired Presley +of the young man who sat ruling forms at the table in the ante- +room. + +"Anywhere between half-past six and seven," the other answered, +adding, "Very often he comes back in the evening." + +And the man was seventy years old. Presley could not repress a +murmur of astonishment. Not only mentally, then, was the +President of the P. and S. W. a giant. Seventy years of age and +still at his post, holding there with the energy, with a +concentration of purpose that would have wrecked the health and +impaired the mind of many men in the prime of their manhood. + +But the next instant Presley set his teeth. + +"It is an ogre's vitality," he said to himself. "Just so is the +man-eating tiger strong. The man should have energy who has +sucked the life-blood from an entire People." + +A little electric bell on the wall near at hand trilled a +warning. The young man who was ruling forms laid down his pen, +and opening the door of the President's office, thrust in his +head, then after a word exchanged with the unseen occupant of the +room, he swung the door wide, saying to Presley: + +"Mr. Shelgrim will see you, sir." + +Presley entered a large, well lighted, but singularly barren +office. A well-worn carpet was on the floor, two steel +engravings hung against the wall, an extra chair or two stood +near a large, plain, littered table. That was absolutely all, +unless he excepted the corner wash-stand, on which was set a +pitcher of ice water, covered with a clean, stiff napkin. A man, +evidently some sort of manager's assistant, stood at the end of +the table, leaning on the back of one of the chairs. Shelgrim +himself sat at the table. + +He was large, almost to massiveness. An iron-grey beard and a +mustache that completely hid the mouth covered the lower part of +his face. His eyes were a pale blue, and a little watery; here +and there upon his face were moth spots. But the enormous +breadth of the shoulders was what, at first, most vividly forced +itself upon Presley's notice. Never had he seen a broader man; +the neck, however, seemed in a manner to have settled into the +shoulders, and furthermore they were humped and rounded, as if to +bear great responsibilities, and great abuse. + +At the moment he was wearing a silk skull-cap, pushed to one side +and a little awry, a frock coat of broadcloth, with long sleeves, +and a waistcoat from the lower buttons of which the cloth was +worn and, upon the edges, rubbed away, showing the metal +underneath. At the top this waistcoat was unbuttoned and in the +shirt front disclosed were two pearl studs. + +Presley, uninvited, unnoticed apparently, sat down. The +assistant manager was in the act of making a report. His voice +was not lowered, and Presley heard every word that was spoken. + +The report proved interesting. It concerned a book-keeper in the +office of the auditor of disbursements. It seems he was at most +times thoroughly reliable, hard-working, industrious, ambitious. +But at long intervals the vice of drunkenness seized upon the man +and for three days rode him like a hag. Not only during the +period of this intemperance, but for the few days immediately +following, the man was useless, his work untrustworthy. He was a +family man and earnestly strove to rid himself of his habit; he +was, when sober, valuable. In consideration of these facts, he +had been pardoned again and again. + +"You remember, Mr. Shelgrim," observed the manager, "that you +have more than once interfered in his behalf, when we were +disposed to let him go. I don't think we can do anything with +him, sir. He promises to reform continually, but it is the same +old story. This last time we saw nothing of him for four days. +Honestly, Mr. Shelgrim, I think we ought to let Tentell out. We +can't afford to keep him. He is really losing us too much money. +Here's the order ready now, if you care to let it go." + +There was a pause. Presley all attention, listened breathlessly. +The assistant manager laid before his President the typewritten +order in question. The silence lengthened; in the hall outside, +the wrought-iron door of the elevator cage slid to with a clash. +Shelgrim did not look at the order. He turned his swivel chair +about and faced the windows behind him, looking out with unseeing +eyes. At last he spoke: + +"Tentell has a family, wife and three children. How much do we +pay him?" + +"One hundred and thirty." + +"Let's double that, or say two hundred and fifty. Let's see how +that will do." + +"Why--of course--if you say so, but really, Mr. Shelgrim" + +"Well, we'll try that, anyhow." + +Presley had not time to readjust his perspective to this new +point of view of the President of the P. and S. W. before the +assistant manager had withdrawn. Shelgrim wrote a few memoranda +on his calendar pad, and signed a couple of letters before +turning his attention to Presley. At last, he looked up and +fixed the young man with a direct, grave glance. He did not +smile. It was some time before he spoke. At last, he said: + +"Well, sir." + +Presley advanced and took a chair nearer at hand. Shelgrim +turned and from his desk picked up and consulted Presley's card. +Presley observed that he read without the use of glasses. + +"You," he said, again facing about, "you are the young man who +wrote the poem called 'The Toilers.'" + +"Yes, sir." + +"It seems to have made a great deal of talk. I've read it, and +I've seen the picture in Cedarquist's house, the picture you took +the idea from." + +Presley, his senses never more alive, observed that, curiously +enough, Shelgrim did not move his body. His arms moved, and his +head, but the great bulk of the man remained immobile in its +place, and as the interview proceeded and this peculiarity +emphasised itself, Presley began to conceive the odd idea that +Shelgrim had, as it were, placed his body in the chair to rest, +while his head and brain and hands went on working independently. +A saucer of shelled filberts stood near his elbow, and from time +to time he picked up one of these in a great thumb and forefinger +and put it between his teeth. + +"I've seen the picture called 'The Toilers,'" continued Shelgrim, +"and of the two, I like the picture better than the poem." + +"The picture is by a master," Presley hastened to interpose. + +"And for that reason," said Shelgrim, "it leaves nothing more to +be said. You might just as well have kept quiet. There's only +one best way to say anything. And what has made the picture of +'The Toilers' great is that the artist said in it the BEST that +could be said on the subject." + +"I had never looked at it in just that light," observed Presley. +He was confused, all at sea, embarrassed. What he had expected +to find in Shelgrim, he could not have exactly said. But he had +been prepared to come upon an ogre, a brute, a terrible man of +blood and iron, and instead had discovered a sentimentalist and +an art critic. No standards of measurement in his mental +equipment would apply to the actual man, and it began to dawn +upon him that possibly it was not because these standards were +different in kind, but that they were lamentably deficient in +size. He began to see that here was the man not only great, but +large; many-sided, of vast sympathies, who understood with equal +intelligence, the human nature in an habitual drunkard, the +ethics of a masterpiece of painting, and the financiering and +operation of ten thousand miles of railroad. + +"I had never looked at it in just that light," repeated Presley. +"There is a great deal in what you say." + +"If I am to listen," continued Shelgrim, "to that kind of talk, I +prefer to listen to it first hand. I would rather listen to what +the great French painter has to say, than to what YOU have to say +about what he has already said." + +His speech, loud and emphatic at first, when the idea of what he +had to say was fresh in his mind, lapsed and lowered itself at +the end of his sentences as though he had already abandoned and +lost interest in that thought, so that the concluding words were +indistinct, beneath the grey beard and mustache. Also at times +there was the faintest suggestion of a lisp. + +"I wrote that poem," hazarded Presley, "at a time when I was +terribly upset. I live," he concluded, "or did live on the Los +Muertos ranch in Tulare County--Magnus Derrick's ranch." + +"The Railroad's ranch LEASED to Mr. Derrick," observed Shelgrim. + +Presley spread out his hands with a helpless, resigned gesture. + +"And," continued the President of the P. and S. W. with grave +intensity, looking at Presley keenly, "I suppose you believe I am +a grand old rascal." + +"I believe," answered Presley, "I am persuaded----" He hesitated, +searching for his words. + +"Believe this, young man," exclaimed Shelgrim, laying a thick +powerful forefinger on the table to emphasise his words, "try to +believe this--to begin with--THAT RAILROADS BUILD THEMSELVES. +Where there is a demand sooner or later there will be a supply. +Mr. Derrick, does he grow his wheat? The Wheat grows itself. +What does he count for? Does he supply the force? What do I +count for? Do I build the Railroad? You are dealing with +forces, young man, when you speak of Wheat and the Railroads, not +with men. There is the Wheat, the supply. It must be carried to +feed the People. There is the demand. The Wheat is one force, +the Railroad, another, and there is the law that governs them-- +supply and demand. Men have only little to do in the whole +business. Complications may arise, conditions that bear hard on +the individual--crush him maybe--BUT THE WHEAT WILL BE CARRIED TO +FEED THE PEOPLE as inevitably as it will grow. If you want to +fasten the blame of the affair at Los Muertos on any one person, +you will make a mistake. Blame conditions, not men." + +"But--but," faltered Presley, "you are the head, you control the +road." + +"You are a very young man. Control the road! Can I stop it? I +can go into bankruptcy if you like. But otherwise if I run my +road, as a business proposition, I can do nothing. I can not +control it. It is a force born out of certain conditions, and I-- +no man--can stop it or control it. Can your Mr. Derrick stop +the Wheat growing? He can burn his crop, or he can give it away, +or sell it for a cent a bushel--just as I could go into +bankruptcy--but otherwise his Wheat must grow. Can any one stop +the Wheat? Well, then no more can I stop the Road." + +Presley regained the street stupefied, his brain in a whirl. +This new idea, this new conception dumfounded him. Somehow, he +could not deny it. It rang with the clear reverberation of +truth. Was no one, then, to blame for the horror at the +irrigating ditch? Forces, conditions, laws of supply and demand-- +were these then the enemies, after all? Not enemies; there was +no malevolence in Nature. Colossal indifference only, a vast +trend toward appointed goals. Nature was, then, a gigantic +engine, a vast cyclopean power, huge, terrible, a leviathan with +a heart of steel, knowing no compunction, no forgiveness, no +tolerance; crushing out the human atom standing in its way, with +nirvanic calm, the agony of destruction sending never a jar, +never the faintest tremour through all that prodigious mechanism +of wheels and cogs. +He went to his club and ate his supper alone, in gloomy +agitation. He was sombre, brooding, lost in a dark maze of +gloomy reflections. However, just as he was rising from the +table an incident occurred that for the moment roused him and +sharply diverted his mind. + +His table had been placed near a window and as he was sipping his +after-dinner coffee, he happened to glance across the street. +His eye was at once caught by the sight of a familiar figure. +Was it Minna Hooven? The figure turned the street corner and was +lost to sight; but it had been strangely like. On the moment, +Presley had risen from the table and, clapping on his hat, had +hurried into the streets, where the lamps were already beginning +to shine. + +But search though he would, Presley could not again come upon the +young woman, in whom he fancied he had seen the daughter of the +unfortunate German. At last, he gave up the hunt, and returning +to his club--at this hour almost deserted--smoked a few +cigarettes, vainly attempted to read from a volume of essays in +the library, and at last, nervous, distraught, exhausted, retired +to his bed. + +But none the less, Presley had not been mistaken. The girl whom +he had tried to follow had been indeed Minna Hooven. + +When Minna, a week before this time, had returned to the lodging +house on Castro Street, after a day's unsuccessful effort to find +employment, and was told that her mother and Hilda had gone, she +was struck speechless with surprise and dismay. She had never +before been in any town larger than Bonneville, and now knew not +which way to turn nor how to account for the disappearance of her +mother and little Hilda. That the landlady was on the point of +turning them out, she understood, but it had been agreed that the +family should be allowed to stay yet one more day, in the hope +that Minna would find work. Of this she reminded the land-lady. +But this latter at once launched upon her such a torrent of +vituperation, that the girl was frightened to speechless +submission. + +"Oh, oh," she faltered, "I know. I am sorry. I know we owe you +money, but where did my mother go? I only want to find her." + +"Oh, I ain't going to be bothered," shrilled the other. "How do +I know?" + +The truth of the matter was that Mrs. Hooven, afraid to stay in +the vicinity of the house, after her eviction, and threatened +with arrest by the landlady if she persisted in hanging around, +had left with the woman a note scrawled on an old blotter, to be +given to Minna when she returned. This the landlady had lost. +To cover her confusion, she affected a vast indignation, and a +turbulent, irascible demeanour. + +"I ain't going to be bothered with such cattle as you," she +vociferated in Minna's face. "I don't know where your folks is. +Me, I only have dealings with honest people. I ain't got a word +to say so long as the rent is paid. But when I'm soldiered out +of a week's lodging, then I'm done. You get right along now. I +don't know you. I ain't going to have my place get a bad name by +having any South of Market Street chippies hanging around. You +get along, or I'll call an officer." + +Minna sought the street, her head in a whirl. It was about five +o'clock. In her pocket was thirty-five cents, all she had in the +world. What now? + +All at once, the Terror of the City, that blind, unreasoned fear +that only the outcast knows, swooped upon her, and clutched her +vulture-wise, by the throat. + +Her first few days' experience in the matter of finding +employment, had taught her just what she might expect from this +new world upon which she had been thrown. What was to become of +her? What was she to do, where was she to go? Unanswerable, +grim questions, and now she no longer had herself to fear for. +Her mother and the baby, little Hilda, both of them equally +unable to look after themselves, what was to become of them, +where were they gone? Lost, lost, all of them, herself as well. +But she rallied herself, as she walked along. The idea of her +starving, of her mother and Hilda starving, was out of all +reason. Of course, it would not come to that, of course not. It +was not thus that starvation came. Something would happen, of +course, it would--in time. But meanwhile, meanwhile, how to get +through this approaching night, and the next few days. That was +the thing to think of just now. + +The suddenness of it all was what most unnerved her. During all +the nineteen years of her life, she had never known what it meant +to shift for herself. Her father had always sufficed for the +family; he had taken care of her, then, all of a sudden, her +father had been killed, her mother snatched from her. Then all +of a sudden there was no help anywhere. Then all of a sudden a +terrible voice demanded of her, "Now just what can you do to keep +yourself alive?" Life faced her; she looked the huge stone image +squarely in the lustreless eyes. + +It was nearly twilight. Minna, for the sake of avoiding +observation--for it seemed to her that now a thousand prying +glances followed her--assumed a matter-of-fact demeanour, and +began to walk briskly toward the business quarter of the town. + +She was dressed neatly enough, in a blue cloth skirt with a blue +plush belt, fairly decent shoes, once her mother's, a pink shirt +waist, and jacket and a straw sailor. She was, in an unusual +fashion, pretty. Even her troubles had not dimmed the bright +light of her pale, greenish-blue eyes, nor faded the astonishing +redness of her lips, nor hollowed her strangely white face. Her +blue-black hair was trim. She carried her well-shaped, well- +rounded figure erectly. Even in her distress, she observed that +men looked keenly at her, and sometimes after her as she went +along. But this she noted with a dim sub-conscious faculty. The +real Minna, harassed, terrified, lashed with a thousand +anxieties, kept murmuring under her breath: + +"What shall I do, what shall I do, oh, what shall I do, now?" + +After an interminable walk, she gained Kearney Street, and held +it till the well-lighted, well-kept neighbourhood of the shopping +district gave place to the vice-crowded saloons and concert halls +of the Barbary Coast. She turned aside in avoidance of this, +only to plunge into the purlieus of Chinatown, whence only she +emerged, panic-stricken and out of breath, after a half hour of +never-to-be-forgotten terrors, and at a time when it had grown +quite dark. + +On the corner of California and Dupont streets, she stood a long +moment, pondering. + +I MUST do something," she said to herself. "I must do +SOMETHING." +She was tired out by now, and the idea occurred to her to enter +the Catholic church in whose shadow she stood, and sit down and +rest. This she did. The evening service was just being +concluded. But long after the priests and altar boys had +departed from the chancel, Minna still sat in the dim, echoing +interior, confronting her desperate situation as best she might. + +Two or three hours later, the sexton woke her. The church was +being closed; she must leave. Once more, chilled with the sharp +night air, numb with long sitting in the same attitude, still +oppressed with drowsiness, confused, frightened, Minna found +herself on the pavement. She began to be hungry, and, at length, +yielding to the demand that every moment grew more imperious, +bought and eagerly devoured a five-cent bag of fruit. Then, once +more she took up the round of walking. + +At length, in an obscure street that branched from Kearney +Street, near the corner of the Plaza, she came upon an +illuminated sign, bearing the inscription, "Beds for the Night, +15 and 25 cents." + +Fifteen cents! Could she afford it? It would leave her with +only that much more, that much between herself and a state of +privation of which she dared not think; and, besides, the +forbidding look of the building frightened her. It was dark, +gloomy, dirty, a place suggestive of obscure crimes and hidden +terrors. For twenty minutes or half an hour, she hesitated, +walking twice and three times around the block. At last, she +made up her mind. Exhaustion such as she had never known, +weighed like lead upon her shoulders and dragged at her heels. +She must sleep. She could not walk the streets all night. She +entered the door-way under the sign, and found her way up a +filthy flight of stairs. At the top, a man in a blue checked +"jumper" was filling a lamp behind a high desk. To him Minna +applied. + +"I should like," she faltered, "to have a room--a bed for the +night. One of those for fifteen cents will be good enough, I +think." + +"Well, this place is only for men," said the man, looking up from +the lamp. + +"Oh," said Minna, "oh--I--I didn't know." + +She looked at him stupidly, and he, with equal stupidity, +returned the gaze. Thus, for a long moment, they held each +other's eyes. + +"I--I didn't know," repeated Minna. + +"Yes, it's for men," repeated the other. +She slowly descended the stairs, and once more came out upon the +streets. + +And upon those streets that, as the hours advanced, grew more and +more deserted, more and more silent, more and more oppressive +with the sense of the bitter hardness of life towards those who +have no means of living, Minna Hooven spent the first night of +her struggle to keep her head above the ebb-tide of the city's +sea, into which she had been plunged. + +Morning came, and with it renewed hunger. At this time, she had +found her way uptown again, and towards ten o'clock was sitting +upon a bench in a little park full of nurse-maids and children. +A group of the maids drew their baby-buggies to Minna's bench, +and sat down, continuing a conversation they had already begun. +Minna listened. A friend of one of the maids had suddenly thrown +up her position, leaving her "madame" in what would appear to +have been deserved embarrassment. + +"Oh," said Minna, breaking in, and lying with sudden unwonted +fluency, "I am a nurse-girl. I am out of a place. Do you think +I could get that one?" + +The group turned and fixed her--so evidently a country girl--with +a supercilious indifference. + +"Well, you might try," said one of them. "Got good references?" + +"References?" repeated Minna blankly. She did not know what this +meant. + +"Oh, Mrs. Field ain't the kind to stick about references," spoke +up the other, "she's that soft. Why, anybody could work her." + +"I'll go there," said Minna. "Have you the address?" It was told +to her. + +"Lorin," she murmured. "Is that out of town?" + +"Well, it's across the Bay." + +"Across the Bay." + +"Um. You're from the country, ain't you?" + +"Yes. How--how do I get there? Is it far?" + +"Well, you take the ferry at the foot of Market Street, and then +the train on the other side. No, it ain't very far. Just ask +any one down there. They'll tell you." + +It was a chance; but Minna, after walking down to the ferry +slips, found that the round trip would cost her twenty cents. If +the journey proved fruitless, only a dime would stand between her +and the end of everything. But it was a chance; the only one +that had, as yet, presented itself. She made the trip. + +And upon the street-railway cars, upon the ferryboats, on the +locomotives and way-coaches of the local trains, she was reminded +of her father's death, and of the giant power that had reduced +her to her present straits, by the letters, P. and S. W. R. R. +To her mind, they occurred everywhere. She seemed to see them in +every direction. She fancied herself surrounded upon every hand +by the long arms of the monster. + +Minute after minute, her hunger gnawed at her. She could not +keep her mind from it. As she sat on the boat, she found herself +curiously scanning the faces of the passengers, wondering how +long since such a one had breakfasted, how long before this other +should sit down to lunch. + +When Minna descended from the train, at Lorin on the other side +of the Bay, she found that the place was one of those suburban +towns, not yet become fashionable, such as may be seen beyond the +outskirts of any large American city. All along the line of the +railroad thereabouts, houses, small villas--contractors' +ventures--were scattered, the advantages of suburban lots and +sites for homes being proclaimed in seven-foot letters upon +mammoth bill-boards close to the right of way. +Without much trouble, Minna found the house to which she had been +directed, a pretty little cottage, set back from the street and +shaded by palms, live oaks, and the inevitable eucalyptus. Her +heart warmed at the sight of it. Oh, to find a little niche for +herself here, a home, a refuge from those horrible city streets, +from the rat of famine, with its relentless tooth. How she would +work, how strenuously she would endeavour to please, how patient +of rebuke she would be, how faithful, how conscientious. Nor +were her pretensions altogether false; upon her, while at home, +had devolved almost continually the care of the baby Hilda, her +little sister. She knew the wants and needs of children. + +Her heart beating, her breath failing, she rang the bell set +squarely in the middle of the front door. + +The lady of the house herself, an elderly lady, with pleasant, +kindly face, opened the door. Minna stated her errand. + +"But I have already engaged a girl," she said. + +"Oh," murmured Minna, striving with all her might to maintain +appearances. "Oh--I thought perhaps--" She turned away. + +"I'm sorry," said the lady. Then she added, "Would you care to +look after so many as three little children, and help around in +light housework between whiles?" + +"Yes, ma'am." +"Because my sister--she lives in North Berkeley, above here-- +she's looking far a girl. Have you had lots of experience? Got +good references?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +"Well, I'll give you the address. She lives up in North +Berkeley." + +She turned back into the house a moment, and returned, handing +Minna a card. + +"That's where she lives--careful not to BLOT it, child, the ink's +wet yet--you had better see her." + +"Is it far? Could I walk there?" + +"My, no; you better take the electric cars, about six blocks +above here." + +When Minna arrived in North Berkeley, she had no money left. By +a cruel mistake, she had taken a car going in the wrong +direction, and though her error was rectified easily enough, it +had cost her her last five-cent piece. She was now to try her +last hope. Promptly it crumbled away. Like the former, this +place had been already filled, and Minna left the door of the +house with the certainty that her chance had come to naught, and +that now she entered into the last struggle with life--the death +struggle--shorn of her last pitiful defence, her last safeguard, +her last penny. + +As she once more resumed her interminable walk, she realised she +was weak, faint; and she knew that it was the weakness of +complete exhaustion, and the faintness of approaching starvation. +Was this the end coming on? Terror of death aroused her. + +"I MUST, I MUST do something, oh, anything. I must have +something to eat." + +At this late hour, the idea of pawning her little jacket occurred +to her, but now she was far away from the city and its pawnshops, +and there was no getting back. + +She walked on. An hour passed. She lost her sense of direction, +became confused, knew not where she was going, turned corners and +went up by-streets without knowing why, anything to keep moving, +for she fancied that so soon as she stood still, the rat in the +pit of her stomach gnawed more eagerly. + +At last, she entered what seemed to be, if not a park, at least +some sort of public enclosure. There were many trees; the place +was beautiful; well-kept roads and walks led sinuously and +invitingly underneath the shade. Through the trees upon the +other side of a wide expanse of turf, brown and sear under the +summer sun, she caught a glimpse of tall buildings and a +flagstaff. The whole place had a vaguely public, educational +appearance, and Minna guessed, from certain notices affixed to +the trees, warning the public against the picking of flowers, +that she had found her way into the grounds of the State +University. She went on a little further. The path she was +following led her, at length, into a grove of gigantic live oaks, +whose lower branches all but swept the ground. Here the grass +was green, the few flowers in bloom, the shade very thick. A +more lovely spot she had seldom seen. Near at hand was a bench, +built around the trunk of the largest live oak, and here, at +length, weak from hunger, exhausted to the limits of her +endurance, despairing, abandoned, Minna Hooven sat down to +enquire of herself what next she could do. + +But once seated, the demands of the animal--so she could believe-- +became more clamorous, more insistent. To eat, to rest, to be +safely housed against another night, above all else, these were +the things she craved; and the craving within her grew so mighty +that she crisped her poor, starved hands into little fists, in an +agony of desire, while the tears ran from her eyes, and the sobs +rose thick from her breast and struggled and strangled in her +aching throat. + +But in a few moments Minna was aware that a woman, apparently of +some thirty years of age, had twice passed along the walk in +front of the bench where she sat, and now, as she took more +notice of her, she remembered that she had seen her on the ferry- +boat coming over from the city. + +The woman was gowned in silk, tightly corseted, and wore a hat of +rather ostentatious smartness. Minna became convinced that the +person was watching her, but before she had a chance to act upon +this conviction she was surprised out of all countenance by the +stranger coming up to where she sat and speaking to her. + +"Here is a coincidence," exclaimed the new-comer, as she sat +down; "surely you are the young girl who sat opposite me on the +boat. Strange I should come across you again. I've had you in +mind ever since." + +On this nearer view Minna observed that the woman's face bore +rather more than a trace of enamel and that the atmosphere about +was impregnated with sachet. She was not otherwise conspicuous, +but there was a certain hardness about her mouth and a certain +droop of fatigue in her eyelids which, combined with an +indefinite self-confidence of manner, held Minna's attention. + +"Do you know," continued the woman, "I believe you are in +trouble. I thought so when I saw you on the boat, and I think so +now. Are you? Are you in trouble? You're from the country, +ain't you?" + +Minna, glad to find a sympathiser, even in this chance +acquaintance, admitted that she was in distress; that she had +become separated from her mother, and that she was indeed from +the country. + +"I've been trying to find a situation," she hazarded in +conclusion, "but I don't seem to succeed. I've never been in a +city before, except Bonneville." + +"Well, it IS a coincidence," said the other. "I know I wasn't +drawn to you for nothing. I am looking for just such a young +girl as you. You see, I live alone a good deal and I've been +wanting to find a nice, bright, sociable girl who will be a sort +of COMPANION to me. Understand? And there's something about you +that I like. I took to you the moment I saw you on the boat. +Now shall we talk this over?" + +Towards the end of the week, one afternoon, as Presley was +returning from his club, he came suddenly face to face with Minna +upon a street corner. + +"Ah," he cried, coming toward her joyfully. "Upon my word, I had +almost given you up. I've been looking everywhere for you. I +was afraid you might not be getting along, and I wanted to see if +there was anything I could do. How are your mother and Hilda? +Where are you stopping? Have you got a good place?" + +"I don't know where mamma is," answered Minna. "We got +separated, and I never have been able to find her again." + +Meanwhile, Presley had been taking in with a quick eye the +details of Minna's silk dress, with its garniture of lace, its +edging of velvet, its silver belt-buckle. Her hair was arranged +in a new way and on her head was a wide hat with a flare to one +side, set off with a gilt buckle and a puff of bright blue plush. +He glanced at her sharply. + +"Well, but--but how are you getting on?" he demanded. + +Minna laughed scornfully. + +"I?" she cried. "Oh, I'VE gone to hell. It was either that or +starvation." + +Presley regained his room at the club, white and trembling. +Worse than the worst he had feared had happened. He had not been +soon enough to help. He had failed again. A superstitious fear +assailed him that he was, in a manner, marked; that he was +foredoomed to fail. Minna had come--had been driven to this; and +he, acting too late upon his tardy resolve, had not been able to +prevent it. Were the horrors, then, never to end? Was the +grisly spectre of consequence to forever dance in his vision? +Were the results, the far-reaching results of that battle at the +irrigating ditch to cross his path forever? When would the +affair be terminated, the incident closed? Where was that spot +to which the tentacle of the monster could not reach? + +By now, he was sick with the dread of it all. He wanted to get +away, to be free from that endless misery, so that he might not +see what he could no longer help. Cowardly he now knew himself +to be. He thought of himself only with loathing. + +Bitterly self-contemptuous that he could bring himself to a +participation in such trivialities, he began to dress to keep his +engagement to dine with the Cedarquists. + +He arrived at the house nearly half an hour late, but before he +could take off his overcoat, Mrs. Cedarquist appeared in the +doorway of the drawing-room at the end of the hall. She was +dressed as if to go out. + +"My DEAR Presley," she exclaimed, her stout, over-dressed body +bustling toward him with a great rustle of silk. "I never was so +glad. You poor, dear poet, you are thin as a ghost. You need a +better dinner than I can give you, and that is just what you are +to have." + +"Have I blundered?" Presley hastened to exclaim. "Did not Mr. +Cedarquist mention Friday evening?" + +"No, no, no," she cried; "it was he who blundered. YOU +blundering in a social amenity! Preposterous! No; Mr. +Cedarquist forgot that we were dining out ourselves to-night, and +when he told me he had asked you here for the same evening, I +fell upon the man, my dear, I did actually, tooth and nail. But +I wouldn't hear of his wiring you. I just dropped a note to our +hostess, asking if I could not bring you, and when I told her who +you WERE, she received the idea with, oh, empressement. So, +there it is, all settled. Cedarquist and the girls are gone on +ahead, and you are to take the old lady like a dear, dear poet. +I believe I hear the carriage. Allons! En voiture!" + +Once settled in the cool gloom of the coupe, odorous of leather +and upholstery, Mrs. Cedarquist exclaimed: + +"And I've never told you who you were to dine with; oh, a +personage, really. Fancy, you will be in the camp of your +dearest foes. You are to dine with the Gerard people, one of the +Vice-Presidents of your bete noir, the P. and S. W. Railroad." + +Presley started, his fists clenching so abruptly as to all but +split his white gloves. He was not conscious of what he said in +reply, and Mrs. Cedarquist was so taken up with her own endless +stream of talk that she did not observe his confusion. + +"Their daughter Honora is going to Europe next week; her mother +is to take her, and Mrs. Gerard is to have just a few people to +dinner--very informal, you know--ourselves, you and, oh, I don't +know, two or three others. Have you ever seen Honora? The +prettiest little thing, and will she be rich? Millions, I would +not dare say how many. Tiens. Nous voici." + +The coupe drew up to the curb, and Presley followed Mrs. +Cedarquist up the steps to the massive doors of the great house. +In a confused daze, he allowed one of the footmen to relieve him +of his hat and coat; in a daze he rejoined Mrs. Cedarquist in a +room with a glass roof, hung with pictures, the art gallery, no +doubt, and in a daze heard their names announced at the entrance +of another room, the doors of which were hung with thick, blue +curtains. + +He entered, collecting his wits for the introductions and +presentations that he foresaw impended. + +The room was very large, and of excessive loftiness. Flat, +rectagonal pillars of a rose-tinted, variegated marble, rose from +the floor almost flush with the walls, finishing off at the top +with gilded capitals of a Corinthian design, which supported the +ceiling. The ceiling itself, instead of joining the walls at +right angles, curved to meet them, a device that produced a sort +of dome-like effect. This ceiling was a maze of golden +involutions in very high relief, that adjusted themselves to form +a massive framing for a great picture, nymphs and goddesses, +white doves, golden chariots and the like, all wreathed about +with clouds and garlands of roses. Between the pillars around +the sides of the room were hangings of silk, the design--of a +Louis Quinze type--of beautiful simplicity and faultless taste. +The fireplace was a marvel. It reached from floor to ceiling; +the lower parts, black marble, carved into crouching Atlases, +with great muscles that upbore the superstructure. The design of +this latter, of a kind of purple marble, shot through with white +veinings, was in the same style as the design of the silk +hangings. In its midst was a bronze escutcheon, bearing an +undecipherable monogram and a Latin motto. Andirons of brass, +nearly six feet high, flanked the hearthstone. + +The windows of the room were heavily draped in sombre brocade and +ecru lace, in which the initials of the family were very +beautifully worked. But directly opposite the fireplace, an +extra window, lighted from the adjoining conservatory, threw a +wonderful, rich light into the apartment. It was a Gothic window +of stained glass, very large, the centre figures being armed +warriors, Parsifal and Lohengrin; the one with a banner, the +other with a swan. The effect was exquisite, the window a +veritable masterpiece, glowing, flaming, and burning with a +hundred tints and colours--opalescent, purple, wine-red, clouded +pinks, royal blues, saffrons, violets so dark as to be almost +black. + +Under foot, the carpet had all the softness of texture of grass; +skins (one of them of an enormous polar bear) and rugs of silk +velvet were spread upon the floor. A Renaissance cabinet of +ebony, many feet taller than Presley's head, and inlaid with +ivory and silver, occupied one corner of the room, while in its +centre stood a vast table of Flemish oak, black, heavy as iron, +massive. A faint odour of sandalwood pervaded the air. From the +conservatory near-by, came the splashing of a fountain. A row of +electric bulbs let into the frieze of the walls between the +golden capitals, and burning dimly behind hemispheres of clouded +glass, threw a subdued light over the whole scene. + +Mrs. Gerard came forward. + +"This is Mr. Presley, of course, our new poet of whom we are all +so proud. I was so afraid you would be unable to come. You have +given me a real pleasure in allowing me to welcome you here." + +The footman appeared at her elbow. + +"Dinner is served, madame," he announced. + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +When Mrs. Hooven had left the boarding-house on Castro Street, +she had taken up a position on a neighbouring corner, to wait for +Minna's reappearance. Little Hilda, at this time hardly more +than six years of age, was with her, holding to her hand. + +Mrs. Hooven was by no means an old woman, but hard work had aged +her. She no longer had any claim to good looks. She no longer +took much interest in her personal appearance. At the time of +her eviction from the Castro Street boarding-house, she wore a +faded black bonnet, garnished with faded artificial flowers of +dirty pink. A plaid shawl was about her shoulders. But this day +of misfortune had set Mrs. Hooven adrift in even worse condition +than her daughter. Her purse, containing a miserable handful of +dimes and nickels, was in her trunk, and her trunk was in the +hands of the landlady. Minna had been allowed such reprieve as +her thirty-five cents would purchase. The destitution of Mrs. +Hooven and her little girl had begun from the very moment of her +eviction. + +While she waited for Minna, watching every street car and every +approaching pedestrian, a policeman appeared, asked what she did, +and, receiving no satisfactory reply, promptly moved her on. + +Minna had had little assurance in facing the life struggle of the +city. Mrs. Hooven had absolutely none. In her, grief, distress, +the pinch of poverty, and, above all, the nameless fear of the +turbulent, fierce life of the streets, had produced a numbness, +an embruted, sodden, silent, speechless condition of dazed mind, +and clogged, unintelligent speech. She was dumb, bewildered, +stupid, animated but by a single impulse. She clung to life, and +to the life of her little daughter Hilda, with the blind tenacity +of purpose of a drowning cat. + +Thus, when ordered to move on by the officer, she had silently +obeyed, not even attempting to explain her situation. She walked +away to the next street-crossing. Then, in a few moments +returned, taking up her place on the corner near the boarding- +house, spying upon the approaching cable cars, peeping anxiously +down the length of the sidewalks. + +Once more, the officer ordered her away, and once more, +unprotesting, she complied. But when for the third time the +policeman found her on the forbidden spot, he had lost his +temper. This time when Mrs. Hooven departed, he had followed +her, and when, bewildered, persistent, she had attempted to turn +back, he caught her by the shoulder. + +"Do you want to get arrested, hey?" he demanded. "Do you want me +to lock you up? Say, do you, speak up?" + +The ominous words at length reached Mrs. Hooven's comprehension. +Arrested! She was to be arrested. The countrywoman's fear of +the Jail nipped and bit eagerly at her unwilling heels. She +hurried off, thinking to return to her post after the policeman +should have gone away. But when, at length, turning back, she +tried to find the boarding-house, she suddenly discovered that +she was on an unfamiliar street. Unwittingly, no doubt, she had +turned a corner. She could not retrace her steps. She and Hilda +were lost. + +"Mammy, I'm tired," Hilda complained. + +Her mother picked her up. + +"Mammy, where're we gowun, mammy?" + +Where, indeed? Stupefied, Mrs. Hooven looked about her at the +endless blocks of buildings, the endless procession of vehicles +in the streets, the endless march of pedestrians on the +sidewalks. Where was Minna; where was she and her baby to sleep +that night? How was Hilda to be fed? + +She could not stand still. There was no place to sit down; but +one thing was left, walk. + +Ah, that via dolorosa of the destitute, that chemin de la croix +of the homeless. Ah, the mile after mile of granite pavement +that MUST be, MUST be traversed. Walk they must. Move, they +must; onward, forward, whither they cannot tell; why, they do not +know. Walk, walk, walk with bleeding feet and smarting joints; +walk with aching back and trembling knees; walk, though the +senses grow giddy with fatigue, though the eyes droop with sleep, +though every nerve, demanding rest, sets in motion its tiny alarm +of pain. Death is at the end of that devious, winding maze of +paths, crossed and re-crossed and crossed again. There is but +one goal to the via dolorosa; there is no escape from the central +chamber of that labyrinth. Fate guides the feet of them that are +set therein. Double on their steps though they may, weave in and +out of the myriad corners of the city's streets, return, go +forward, back, from side to side, here, there, anywhere, dodge, +twist, wind, the central chamber where Death sits is reached +inexorably at the end. + +Sometimes leading and sometimes carrying Hilda, Mrs. Hooven set +off upon her objectless journey. Block after block she walked, +street after street. She was afraid to stop, because of the +policemen. As often as she so much as slackened her pace, she +was sure to see one of these terrible figures in the distance, +watching her, so it seemed to her, waiting for her to halt for +the fraction of a second, in order that he might have an excuse +to arrest her. + +Hilda fretted incessantly. + +"Mammy, where're we gowun? Mammy, I'm tired." Then, at last, +for the first time, that plaint that stabbed the mother's heart: + +"Mammy, I'm hungry." + +"Be qui-ut, den," said Mrs. Hooven. "Bretty soon we'll hev der +subber." + +Passers-by on the sidewalk, men and women in the great six +o'clock homeward march, jostled them as they went along. With +dumb, dull curiousness, she looked into one after another of the +limitless stream of faces, and she fancied she saw in them every +emotion but pity. The faces were gay, were anxious, were +sorrowful, were mirthful, were lined with thought, or were merely +flat and expressionless, but not one was turned toward her in +compassion. The expressions of the faces might be various, but +an underlying callousness was discoverable beneath every mask. +The people seemed removed from her immeasurably; they were +infinitely above her. What was she to them, she and her baby, +the crippled outcasts of the human herd, the unfit, not able to +survive, thrust out on the heath to perish? + +To beg from these people did not yet occur to her. There was no +pride, however, in the matter. She would have as readily asked +alms of so many sphinxes. + +She went on. Without willing it, her feet carried her in a wide +circle. Soon she began to recognise the houses; she had been in +that street before. Somehow, this was distasteful to her; so, +striking off at right angles, she walked straight before her for +over a dozen blocks. By now, it was growing darker. The sun had +set. The hands of a clock on the power-house of a cable line +pointed to seven. No doubt, Minna had come long before this +time, had found her mother gone, and had--just what had she done, +just what COULD she do? Where was her daughter now? Walking the +streets herself, no doubt. What was to become of Minna, pretty +girl that she was, lost, houseless and friendless in the maze of +these streets? Mrs. Hooven, roused from her lethargy, could not +repress an exclamation of anguish. Here was misfortune indeed; +here was calamity. She bestirred herself, and remembered the +address of the boarding-house. She might inquire her way back +thither. No doubt, by now the policeman would be gone home for +the night. She looked about. She was in the district of modest +residences, and a young man was coming toward her, carrying a new +garden hose looped around his shoulder. + +"Say, Meest'r; say, blease----" + +The young man gave her a quick look and passed on, hitching the +coil of hose over his shoulder. But a few paces distant, he +slackened in his walk and fumbled in his vest pocket with his +fingers. Then he came back to Mrs. Hooven and put a quarter into +her hand. + +Mrs. Hooven stared at the coin stupefied. The young man +disappeared. He thought, then, that she was begging. It had +come to that; she, independent all her life, whose husband had +held five hundred acres of wheat land, had been taken for a +beggar. A flush of shame shot to her face. She was about to +throw the money after its giver. But at the moment, Hilda again +exclaimed: + +"Mammy, I'm hungry." + +With a movement of infinite lassitude and resigned acceptance of +the situation, Mrs. Hooven put the coin in her pocket. She had +no right to be proud any longer. Hilda must have food. + +That evening, she and her child had supper at a cheap restaurant +in a poor quarter of the town, and passed the night on the +benches of a little uptown park. + +Unused to the ways of the town, ignorant as to the customs and +possibilities of eating-houses, she spent the whole of her +quarter upon supper for herself and Hilda, and had nothing left +wherewith to buy a lodging. + +The night was dreadful; Hilda sobbed herself to sleep on her +mother's shoulder, waking thereafter from hour to hour, to +protest, though wrapped in her mother's shawl, that she was cold, +and to enquire why they did not go to bed. Drunken men snored +and sprawled near at hand. Towards morning, a loafer, reeking of +alcohol, sat down beside her, and indulged in an incoherent +soliloquy, punctuated with oaths and obscenities. It was not +till far along towards daylight that she fell asleep. + +She awoke to find it broad day. Hilda--mercifully--slept. Her +mother's limbs were stiff and lame with cold and damp; her head +throbbed. She moved to another bench which stood in the rays of +the sun, and for a long two hours sat there in the thin warmth, +till the moisture of the night that clung to her clothes was +evaporated. + +A policeman came into view. She woke Hilda, and carrying her in +her arms, took herself away. + +"Mammy," began Hilda as soon as she was well awake; "Mammy, I'm +hungry. I want mein breakfest." + +"Sure, sure, soon now, leedle tochter." + +She herself was hungry, but she had but little thought of that. +How was Hilda to be fed? She remembered her experience of the +previous day, when the young man with the hose had given her +money. Was it so easy, then, to beg? Could charity be had for +the asking? So it seemed; but all that was left of her sturdy +independence revolted at the thought. SHE beg! SHE hold out the +hand to strangers! + +"Mammy, I'm hungry." + +There was no other way. It must come to that in the end. Why +temporise, why put off the inevitable? She sought out a +frequented street where men and women were on their way to work. +One after another, she let them go by, searching their faces, +deterred at the very last moment by some trifling variation of +expression, a firm set mouth, a serious, level eyebrow, an +advancing chin. Then, twice, when she had made a choice, and +brought her resolution to the point of speech, she quailed, +shrinking, her ears tingling, her whole being protesting against +the degradation. Every one must be looking at her. Her shame +was no doubt the object of an hundred eyes. + +"Mammy, I'm hungry," protested Hilda again. + +She made up her mind. What, though, was she to say? In what +words did beggars ask for assistance? + +She tried to remember how tramps who had appeared at her back +door on Los Muertos had addressed her; how and with what formula +certain mendicants of Bonneville had appealed to her. Then, +having settled upon a phrase, she approached a whiskered +gentleman with a large stomach, walking briskly in the direction +of the town. + +"Say, den, blease hellup a boor womun." + +The gentleman passed on. + +"Perhaps he doand hear me," she murmured. + +Two well-dressed women advanced, chattering gayly. + +"Say, say, den, blease hellup a boor womun." + +One of the women paused, murmuring to her companion, and from her +purse extracted a yellow ticket which she gave to Mrs. Hooven +with voluble explanations. But Mrs. Hooven was confused, she did +not understand. What could the ticket mean? The women went on +their way. + +The next person to whom she applied was a young girl of about +eighteen, very prettily dressed. + +"Say, say, den, blease hellup a boor womun." + +In evident embarrassment, the young girl paused and searched in +her little pocketbook. +"I think I have--I think--I have just ten cents here somewhere," +she murmured again and again. + +In the end, she found a dime, and dropped it into Mrs. Hooven's +palm. + +That was the beginning. The first step once taken, the others +became easy. All day long, Mrs. Hooven and Hilda followed the +streets, begging, begging. Here it was a nickel, there a dime, +here a nickel again. But she was not expert in the art, nor did +she know where to buy food the cheapest; and the entire day's +work resulted only in barely enough for two meals of bread, milk, +and a wretchedly cooked stew. Tuesday night found the pair once +more shelterless. + +Once more, Mrs. Hooven and her baby passed the night on the park +benches. But early on Wednesday morning, Mrs. Hooven found +herself assailed by sharp pains and cramps in her stomach. What +was the cause she could not say; but as the day went on, the +pains increased, alternating with hot flushes over all her body, +and a certain weakness and faintness. As the day went on, the +pain and the weakness increased. When she tried to walk, she +found she could do so only with the greatest difficulty. Here +was fresh misfortune. To beg, she must walk. Dragging herself +forward a half-block at a time, she regained the street once +more. She succeeded in begging a couple of nickels, bought a bag +of apples from a vender, and, returning to the park, sank +exhausted upon a bench. + +Here she remained all day until evening, Hilda alternately +whimpering for her bread and milk, or playing languidly in the +gravel walk at her feet. In the evening, she started out again. +This time, it was bitter hard. Nobody seemed inclined to give. +Twice she was "moved on" by policemen. Two hours' begging +elicited but a single dime. With this, she bought Hilda's bread +and milk, and refusing herself to eat, returned to the bench--the +only home she knew--and spent the night shivering with cold, +burning with fever. + +From Wednesday morning till Friday evening, with the exception of +the few apples she had bought, and a quarter of a loaf of hard +bread that she found in a greasy newspaper--scraps of a workman's +dinner--Mrs. Hooven had nothing to eat. In her weakened +condition, begging became hourly more difficult, and such little +money as was given her, she resolutely spent on Hilda's bread and +milk in the morning and evening. + +By Friday afternoon, she was very weak, indeed. Her eyes +troubled her. She could no longer see distinctly, and at times +there appeared to her curious figures, huge crystal goblets of +the most graceful shapes, floating and swaying in the air in +front of her, almost within arm's reach. Vases of elegant forms, +made of shimmering glass, bowed and courtesied toward her. Glass +bulbs took graceful and varying shapes before her vision, now +rounding into globes, now evolving into hour-glasses, now +twisting into pretzel-shaped convolutions. + +"Mammy, I'm hungry," insisted Hilda, passing her hands over her +face. Mrs. Hooven started and woke. It was Friday evening. +Already the street lamps were being lit. + +"Gome, den, leedle girl," she said, rising and taking Hilda's +hand. "Gome, den, we go vind subber, hey?" + +She issued from the park and took a cross street, directly away +from the locality where she had begged the previous days. She +had had no success there of late. She would try some other +quarter of the town. After a weary walk, she came out upon Van +Ness Avenue, near its junction with Market Street. She turned +into the avenue, and went on toward the Bay, painfully traversing +block after block, begging of all whom she met (for she no longer +made any distinction among the passers-by) . + +"Say, say, den, blease hellup a boor womun." + +"Mammy, mammy, I'm hungry." + +It was Friday night, between seven and eight. The great deserted +avenue was already dark. A sea fog was scudding overhead, and by +degrees descending lower. The warmth was of the meagerest, and +the street lamps, birds of fire in cages of glass, fluttered and +danced in the prolonged gusts of the trade wind that threshed and +weltered in the city streets from off the ocean. + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Presley entered the dining-room of the Gerard mansion with little +Miss Gerard on his arm. The other guests had preceded them-- +Cedarquist with Mrs. Gerard; a pale-faced, languid young man +(introduced to Presley as Julian Lambert) with Presley's cousin +Beatrice, one of the twin daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Cedarquist; +his brother Stephen, whose hair was straight as an Indian's, but +of a pallid straw color, with Beatrice's sister; Gerard himself, +taciturn, bearded, rotund, loud of breath, escorted Mrs. +Cedarquist. Besides these, there were one or two other couples, +whose names Presley did not remember. + +The dining-room was superb in its appointments. On three sides +of the room, to the height of some ten feet, ran a continuous +picture, an oil painting, divided into long sections by narrow +panels of black oak. The painting represented the personages in +the Romaunt de la Rose, and was conceived in an atmosphere of the +most delicate, most ephemeral allegory. One saw young +chevaliers, blue-eyed, of elemental beauty and purity; women with +crowns, gold girdles, and cloudy wimples; young girls, entrancing +in their loveliness, wearing snow-white kerchiefs, their golden +hair unbound and flowing, dressed in white samite, bearing +armfuls of flowers; the whole procession defiling against a +background of forest glades, venerable oaks, half-hidden +fountains, and fields of asphodel and roses. + +Otherwise, the room was simple. Against the side of the wall +unoccupied by the picture stood a sideboard of gigantic size, +that once had adorned the banquet hall of an Italian palace of +the late Renaissance. It was black with age, and against its +sombre surfaces glittered an array of heavy silver dishes and +heavier cut-glass bowls and goblets. + +The company sat down to the first course of raw Blue Point +oysters, served upon little pyramids of shaved ice, and the two +butlers at once began filling the glasses of the guests with cool +Haut Sauterne. + +Mrs. Gerard, who was very proud of her dinners, and never able to +resist the temptation of commenting upon them to her guests, +leaned across to Presley and Mrs. Cedarquist, murmuring, "Mr. +Presley, do you find that Sauterne too cold? I always believe it +is so bourgeois to keep such a delicate wine as Sauterne on the +ice, and to ice Bordeaux or Burgundy--oh, it is nothing short of +a crime." + +"This is from your own vineyard, is it not?" asked Julian +Lambert. "I think I recognise the bouquet." + +He strove to maintain an attitude of fin gourmet, unable to +refrain from comment upon the courses as they succeeded one +another. + +Little Honora Gerard turned to Presley: + +"You know," she explained, "Papa has his own vineyards in +southern France. He is so particular about his wines; turns up +his nose at California wines. And I am to go there next summer. +Ferrieres is the name of the place where our vineyards are, the +dearest village!" +She was a beautiful little girl of a dainty porcelain type, her +colouring low in tone. She wore no jewels, but her little, +undeveloped neck and shoulders, of an exquisite immaturity, rose +from the tulle bodice of her first decollete gown. + +"Yes," she continued; "I'm to go to Europe for the first time. +Won't it be gay? And I am to have my own bonne, and Mamma and I +are to travel--so many places, Baden, Homburg, Spa, the Tyrol. +Won't it be gay?" + +Presley assented in meaningless words. He sipped his wine +mechanically, looking about that marvellous room, with its +subdued saffron lights, its glitter of glass and silver, its +beautiful women in their elaborate toilets, its deft, correct +servants; its array of tableware--cut glass, chased silver, and +Dresden crockery. It was Wealth, in all its outward and visible +forms, the signs of an opulence so great that it need never be +husbanded. It was the home of a railway "Magnate," a Railroad +King. For this, then, the farmers paid. It was for this that S. +Behrman turned the screw, tightened the vise. It was for this +that Dyke had been driven to outlawry and a jail. It was for +this that Lyman Derrick had been bought, the Governor ruined and +broken, Annixter shot down, Hooven killed. + +The soup, puree a la Derby, was served, and at the same time, as +hors d'oeuvres, ortolan patties, together with a tiny sandwich +made of browned toast and thin slices of ham, sprinkled over with +Parmesan cheese. The wine, so Mrs. Gerard caused it to be +understood, was Xeres, of the 1815 vintage. + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Mrs. Hooven crossed the avenue. It was growing late. Without +knowing it, she had come to a part of the city that experienced +beggars shunned. There was nobody about. Block after block of +residences stretched away on either hand, lighted, full of +people. But the sidewalks were deserted. + +"Mammy," whimpered Hilda. "I'm tired, carry me." + +Using all her strength, Mrs. Hooven picked her up and moved on +aimlessly. + +Then again that terrible cry, the cry of the hungry child +appealing to the helpless mother: + +"Mammy, I'm hungry." + +"Ach, Gott, leedle girl," exclaimed Mrs. Hooven, holding her +close to her shoulder, the tears starting from her eyes. "Ach, +leedle tochter. Doand, doand, doand. You praik my hairt. I +cen't vind any subber. We got noddings to eat, noddings, +noddings." + +"When do we have those bread'n milk again, Mammy?" + +"To-morrow--soon--py-and-py, Hilda. I doand know what pecome oaf +us now, what pecome oaf my leedle babby." + +She went on, holding Hilda against her shoulder with one arm as +best she might, one hand steadying herself against the fence +railings along the sidewalk. At last, a solitary pedestrian came +into view, a young man in a top hat and overcoat, walking +rapidly. Mrs. Hooven held out a quivering hand as he passed her. + +"Say, say, den, Meest'r, blease hellup a boor womun." + +The other hurried on. + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +The fish course was grenadins of bass and small salmon, the +latter stuffed, and cooked in white wine and mushroom liquor. + +"I have read your poem, of course, Mr. Presley," observed Mrs. +Gerard. "'The Toilers,' I mean. What a sermon you read us, you +dreadful young man. I felt that I ought at once to 'sell all +that I have and give to the poor.' Positively, it did stir me up. +You may congratulate yourself upon making at least one convert. +Just because of that poem Mrs. Cedarquist and I have started a +movement to send a whole shipload of wheat to the starving people +in India. Now, you horrid reactionnaire, are you satisfied?" + +"I am very glad," murmured Presley. + +"But I am afraid," observed Mrs. Cedarquist, "that we may be too +late. They are dying so fast, those poor people. By the time +our ship reaches India the famine may be all over." + +"One need never be afraid of being 'too late' in the matter of +helping the destitute," answered Presley. "Unfortunately, they +are always a fixed quantity. 'The poor ye have always with +you.'" + +"How very clever that is," said Mrs. Gerard. + +Mrs. Cedarquist tapped the table with her fan in mild applause. + +"Brilliant, brilliant," she murmured, "epigrammatical." + +"Honora," said Mrs. Gerard, turning to her daughter, at that +moment in conversation with the languid Lambert, "Honora, +entends-tu, ma cherie, l'esprit de notre jeune Lamartine." + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Mrs. Hooven went on, stumbling from street to street, holding +Hilda to her breast. Famine gnawed incessantly at her stomach; +walk though she might, turn upon her tracks up and down the +streets, back to the avenue again, incessantly and relentlessly +the torture dug into her vitals. She was hungry, hungry, and if +the want of food harassed and rended her, full-grown woman that +she was, what must it be in the poor, starved stomach of her +little girl? Oh, for some helping hand now, oh, for one little +mouthful, one little nibble! Food, food, all her wrecked body +clamoured for nourishment; anything to numb those gnawing teeth-- +an abandoned loaf, hard, mouldered; a half-eaten fruit, yes, even +the refuse of the gutter, even the garbage of the ash heap. On +she went, peering into dark corners, into the areaways, anywhere, +everywhere, watching the silent prowling of cats, the intent +rovings of stray dogs. But she was growing weaker; the pains and +cramps in her stomach returned. Hilda's weight bore her to the +pavement. More than once a great giddiness, a certain wheeling +faintness all but overcame her. Hilda, however, was asleep. To +wake her would only mean to revive her to the consciousness of +hunger; yet how to carry her further? Mrs. Hooven began to fear +that she would fall with her child in her arms. The terror of a +collapse upon those cold pavements glistening with fog-damp +roused her; she must make an effort to get through the night. +She rallied all her strength, and pausing a moment to shift the +weight of her baby to the other arm, once more set off through +the night. A little while later she found on the edge of the +sidewalk the peeling of a banana. It had been trodden upon and +it was muddy, but joyfully she caught it up. + +"Hilda," she cried, "wake oop, leedle girl. See, loog den, +dere's somedings to eat. Look den, hey? Dat's goot, ain't it? +Zum bunaner." + +But it could not be eaten. Decayed, dirty, all but rotting, the +stomach turned from the refuse, nauseated. + +"No, no," cried Hilda, "that's not good. I can't eat it. Oh, +Mammy, please gif me those bread'n milk." + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +By now the guests of Mrs. Gerard had come to the entrees-- +Londonderry pheasants, escallops of duck, and rissolettes a la +pompadour. The wine was Chateau Latour. + +All around the table conversations were going forward gayly. The +good wines had broken up the slight restraint of the early part +of the evening and a spirit of good humour and good fellowship +prevailed. Young Lambert and Mr. Gerard were deep in +reminiscences of certain mutual duck-shooting expeditions. Mrs. +Gerard and Mrs. Cedarquist discussed a novel--a strange mingling +of psychology, degeneracy, and analysis of erotic conditions-- +which had just been translated from the Italian. Stephen Lambert +and Beatrice disputed over the merits of a Scotch collie just +given to the young lady. The scene was gay, the electric bulbs +sparkled, the wine flashing back the light. The entire table was +a vague glow of white napery, delicate china, and glass as +brilliant as crystal. Behind the guests the serving-men came and +went, filling the glasses continually, changing the covers, +serving the entrees, managing the dinner without interruption, +confusion, or the slightest unnecessary noise. + +But Presley could find no enjoyment in the occasion. From that +picture of feasting, that scene of luxury, that atmosphere of +decorous, well-bred refinement, his thoughts went back to Los +Muertos and Quien Sabe and the irrigating ditch at Hooven's. He +saw them fall, one by one, Harran, Annixter, Osterman, Broderson, +Hooven. The clink of the wine glasses was drowned in the +explosion of revolvers. The Railroad might indeed be a force +only, which no man could control and for which no man was +responsible, but his friends had been killed, but years of +extortion and oppression had wrung money from all the San +Joaquin, money that had made possible this very scene in which he +found himself. Because Magnus had been beggared, Gerard had +become Railroad King; because the farmers of the valley were +poor, these men were rich. + +The fancy grew big in his mind, distorted, caricatured, terrible. +Because the farmers had been killed at the irrigation ditch, +these others, Gerard and his family, fed full. They fattened on +the blood of the People, on the blood of the men who had been +killed at the ditch. It was a half-ludicrous, half-horrible "dog +eat dog," an unspeakable cannibalism. Harran, Annixter, and +Hooven were being devoured there under his eyes. These dainty +women, his cousin Beatrice and little Miss Gerard, frail, +delicate; all these fine ladies with their small fingers and +slender necks, suddenly were transfigured in his tortured mind +into harpies tearing human flesh. His head swam with the horror +of it, the terror of it. Yes, the People WOULD turn some day, +and turning, rend those who now preyed upon them. It would be +"dog eat dog " again, with positions reversed, and he saw for one +instant of time that splendid house sacked to its foundations, +the tables overturned, the pictures torn, the hangings blazing, +and Liberty, the red-handed Man in the Street, grimed with powder +smoke, foul with the gutter, rush yelling, torch in hand, through +every door. + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +At ten o'clock Mrs. Hooven fell. + +Luckily she was leading Hilda by the hand at the time and the +little girl was not hurt. In vain had Mrs. Hooven, hour after +hour, walked the streets. After a while she no longer made any +attempt to beg; nobody was stirring, nor did she even try to hunt +for food with the stray dogs and cats. She had made up her mind +to return to the park in order to sit upon the benches there, but +she had mistaken the direction, and following up Sacramento +Street, had come out at length, not upon the park, but upon a +great vacant lot at the very top of the Clay Street hill. The +ground was unfenced and rose above her to form the cap of the +hill, all overgrown with bushes and a few stunted live oaks. It +was in trying to cross this piece of ground that she fell. She +got upon her feet again. + +"Ach, Mammy, did you hurt yourself?" asked Hilda. + +"No, no." + +"Is that house where we get those bread'n milk?" + +Hilda pointed to a single rambling building just visible in the +night, that stood isolated upon the summit of the hill in a grove +of trees. + +"No, no, dere aindt no braid end miluk, leedle tochter." + +Hilda once more began to sob. + +"Ach, Mammy, please, PLEASE, I want it. I'm hungry." + +The jangled nerves snapped at last under the tension, and Mrs. +Hooven, suddenly shaking Hilda roughly, cried out: +"Stop, stop. Doand say ut egen, you. My Gott, you kill me yet." + +But quick upon this came the reaction. The mother caught her +little girl to her, sinking down upon her knees, putting her arms +around her, holding her close. + +"No, no, gry all so mudge es you want. Say dot you are hongry. +Say ut egen, say ut all de dime, ofer end ofer egen. Say ut, +poor, starfing, leedle babby. Oh, mein poor, leedle tochter. My +Gott, oh, I go crazy bretty soon, I guess. I cen't hellup you. +I cen't ged you noddings to eat, noddings, noddings. Hilda, we +gowun to die togedder. Put der arms roundt me, soh, tighd, +leedle babby. We gowun to die, we gowun to vind Popper. We +aindt gowun to be hongry eny more." + +"Vair we go now?" demanded Hilda. + +"No places. Mommer's soh tiredt. We stop heir, leedle while, +end rest." + +Underneath a large bush that afforded a little shelter from the +wind, Mrs. Hooven lay down, taking Hilda in her arms and wrapping +her shawl about her. The infinite, vast night expanded gigantic +all around them. At this elevation they were far above the city. +It was still. Close overhead whirled the chariots of the fog, +galloping landward, smothering lights, blurring outlines. Soon +all sight of the town was shut out; even the solitary house on +the hilltop vanished. There was nothing left but grey, wheeling +fog, and the mother and child, alone, shivering in a little strip +of damp ground, an island drifting aimlessly in empty space. + +Hilda's fingers touched a leaf from the bush and instinctively +closed upon it and carried it to her mouth. + +"Mammy," she said, "I'm eating those leaf. Is those good?" + +Her mother did not reply. + +"You going to sleep, Mammy?" inquired Hilda, touching her face. + +Mrs. Hooven roused herself a little. + +"Hey? Vat you say? Asleep? Yais, I guess I wass asleep." + +Her voice trailed unintelligibly to silence again. She was not, +however, asleep. Her eyes were open. A grateful numbness had +begun to creep over her, a pleasing semi-insensibility. She no +longer felt the pain and cramps of her stomach, even the hunger +was ceasing to bite. + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +"These stuffed artichokes are delicious, Mrs. Gerard," murmured +young Lambert, wiping his lips with a corner of his napkin. +"Pardon me for mentioning it, but your dinner must be my excuse." + +"And this asparagus--since Mr. Lambert has set the bad example," +observed Mrs. Cedarquist, "so delicate, such an exquisite +flavour. How do you manage?" + +"We get all our asparagus from the southern part of the State, +from one particular ranch," explained Mrs. Gerard. "We order it +by wire and get it only twenty hours after cutting. My husband +sees to it that it is put on a special train. It stops at this +ranch just to take on our asparagus. Extravagant, isn't it, but +I simply cannot eat asparagus that has been cut more than a day." + +"Nor I," exclaimed Julian Lambert, who posed as an epicure. "I +can tell to an hour just how long asparagus has been picked." + +"Fancy eating ordinary market asparagus," said Mrs. Gerard, "that +has been fingered by Heaven knows how many hands." + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +"Mammy, mammy, wake up," cried Hilda, trying to push open Mrs. +Hooven's eyelids, at last closed. "Mammy, don't. You're just +trying to frighten me." + +Feebly Hilda shook her by the shoulder. At last Mrs. Hooven's +lips stirred. Putting her head down, Hilda distinguished the +whispered words: + +"I'm sick. Go to schleep....Sick....Noddings to eat." + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +The dessert was a wonderful preparation of alternate layers of +biscuit glaces, ice cream, and candied chestnuts. + +"Delicious, is it not?" observed Julian Lambert, partly to +himself, partly to Miss Cedarquist. "This Moscovite fouette-- +upon my word, I have never tasted its equal." + +"And you should know, shouldn't you?" returned the young lady. + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +"Mammy, mammy, wake up," cried Hilda. "Don't sleep so. I'm +frightenedt." + +Repeatedly she shook her; repeatedly she tried to raise the inert +eyelids with the point of her finger. But her mother no longer +stirred. The gaunt, lean body, with its bony face and sunken +eye-sockets, lay back, prone upon the ground, the feet upturned +and showing the ragged, worn soles of the shoes, the forehead and +grey hair beaded with fog, the poor, faded bonnet awry, the poor, +faded dress soiled and torn. +Hilda drew close to her mother, kissing her face, twining her +arms around her neck. For a long time, she lay that way, +alternately sobbing and sleeping. Then, after a long time, there +was a stir. She woke from a doze to find a police officer and +two or three other men bending over her. Some one carried a +lantern. Terrified, smitten dumb, she was unable to answer the +questions put to her. Then a woman, evidently a mistress of the +house on the top of the hill, arrived and took Hilda in her arms +and cried over her. + +"I'll take the little girl," she said to the police officer. + +"But the mother, can you save her? Is she too far gone?" + +"I've sent for a doctor," replied the other. + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Just before the ladies left the table, young Lambert raised his +glass of Madeira. Turning towards the wife of the Railroad King, +he said: + +"My best compliments for a delightful dinner." + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +The doctor who had been bending over Mrs. Hooven, rose. + +"It's no use," he said; "she has been dead some time--exhaustion +from starvation." + + + +IX + + +On Division Number Three of the Los Muertos ranch the wheat had +already been cut, and S. Behrman on a certain morning in the +first week of August drove across the open expanse of stubble +toward the southwest, his eyes searching the horizon for the +feather of smoke that would mark the location of the steam +harvester. However, he saw nothing. The stubble extended onward +apparently to the very margin of the world. + +At length, S. Behrman halted his buggy and brought out his field +glasses from beneath the seat. He stood up in his place and, +adjusting the lenses, swept the prospect to the south and west. +It was the same as though the sea of land were, in reality, the +ocean, and he, lost in an open boat, were scanning the waste +through his glasses, looking for the smoke of a steamer, hull +down, below the horizon. "Wonder," he muttered, "if they're +working on Four this morning?" + +At length, he murmured an "Ah" of satisfaction. Far to the south +into the white sheen of sky, immediately over the horizon, he +made out a faint smudge--the harvester beyond doubt. + +Thither S. Behrman turned his horse's head. It was all of an +hour's drive over the uneven ground and through the crackling +stubble, but at length he reached the harvester. He found, +however, that it had been halted. The sack sewers, together with +the header-man, were stretched on the ground in the shade of the +machine, while the engineer and separator-man were pottering +about a portion of the works. + +"What's the matter, Billy?" demanded S. Behrman reining up. + +The engineer turned about. + +"The grain is heavy in here. We thought we'd better increase the +speed of the cup-carrier, and pulled up to put in a smaller +sprocket." + +S. Behrman nodded to say that was all right, and added a +question. + +"How is she going?" + +"Anywheres from twenty-five to thirty sacks to the acre right +along here; nothing the matter with THAT I guess." + +"Nothing in the world, Bill." + +One of the sack sewers interposed: + +"For the last half hour we've been throwing off three bags to the +minute." + +"That's good, that's good." + +It was more than good; it was " bonanza," and all that division +of the great ranch was thick with just such wonderful wheat. +Never had Los Muertos been more generous, never a season more +successful. S. Behrman drew a long breath of satisfaction. He +knew just how great was his share in the lands which had just +been absorbed by the corporation he served, just how many +thousands of bushels of this marvellous crop were his property. +Through all these years of confusion, bickerings, open hostility +and, at last, actual warfare he had waited, nursing his patience, +calm with the firm assurance of ultimate success. The end, at +length, had come; he had entered into his reward and saw himself +at last installed in the place he had so long, so silently +coveted; saw himself chief of a principality, the Master of the +Wheat. + +The sprocket adjusted, the engineer called up the gang and the +men took their places. The fireman stoked vigorously, the two +sack sewers resumed their posts on the sacking platform, putting +on the goggles that kept the chaff from their eyes. The +separator-man and header-man gripped their levers. + +The harvester, shooting a column of thick smoke straight upward, +vibrating to the top of the stack, hissed, clanked, and lurched +forward. Instantly, motion sprang to life in all its component +parts; the header knives, cutting a thirty-six foot swath, +gnashed like teeth; beltings slid and moved like smooth flowing +streams; the separator whirred, the agitator jarred and crashed; +cylinders, augers, fans, seeders and elevators, drapers and +chaff-carriers clattered, rumbled, buzzed, and clanged. The +steam hissed and rasped; the ground reverberated a hollow note, +and the thousands upon thousands of wheat stalks sliced and +slashed in the clashing shears of the header, rattled like dry +rushes in a hurricane, as they fell inward, and were caught up by +an endless belt, to disappear into the bowels of the vast brute +that devoured them. + +It was that and no less. It was the feeding of some prodigious +monster, insatiable, with iron teeth, gnashing and threshing into +the fields of standing wheat; devouring always, never glutted, +never satiated, swallowing an entire harvest, snarling and +slobbering in a welter of warm vapour, acrid smoke, and blinding, +pungent clouds of chaff. It moved belly-deep in the standing +grain, a hippopotamus, half-mired in river ooze, gorging rushes, +snorting, sweating; a dinosaur wallowing through thick, hot +grasses, floundering there, crouching, grovelling there as its +vast jaws crushed and tore, and its enormous gullet swallowed, +incessant, ravenous, and inordinate. + +S. Behrman, very much amused, changed places with one of the sack +sewers, allowing him to hold his horse while he mounted the +sacking platform and took his place. The trepidation and +jostling of the machine shook him till his teeth chattered in his +head. His ears were shocked and assaulted by a myriad-tongued +clamour, clashing steel, straining belts, jarring woodwork, while +the impalpable chaff powder from the separators settled like dust +in his hair, his ears, eyes, and mouth. + +Directly in front of where he sat on the platform was the chute +from the cleaner, and from this into the mouth of a half-full +sack spouted an unending gush of grain, winnowed, cleaned, +threshed, ready for the mill. + +The pour from the chute of the cleaner had for S. Behrman an +immense satisfaction. Without an instant's pause, a thick +rivulet of wheat rolled and dashed tumultuous into the sack. In +half a minute--sometimes in twenty seconds--the sack was full, +was passed over to the second sewer, the mouth reeved up, and the +sack dumped out upon the ground, to be picked up by the wagons +and hauled to the railroad. + +S. Behrman, hypnotised, sat watching that river of grain. All +that shrieking, bellowing machinery, all that gigantic organism, +all the months of labour, the ploughing, the planting, the +prayers for rain, the years of preparation, the heartaches, the +anxiety, the foresight, all the whole business of the ranch, the +work of horses, of steam, of men and boys, looked to this spot-- +the grain chute from the harvester into the sacks. Its volume +was the index of failure or success, of riches or poverty. And +at this point, the labour of the rancher ended. Here, at the lip +of the chute, he parted company with his grain, and from here the +wheat streamed forth to feed the world. The yawning mouths of +the sacks might well stand for the unnumbered mouths of the +People, all agape for food; and here, into these sacks, at first +so lean. so flaccid, attenuated like starved stomachs, rushed +the living stream of food, insistent, interminable, filling the +empty, fattening the shrivelled, making it sleek and heavy and +solid. + +Half an hour later, the harvester stopped again. The men on the +sacking platform had used up all the sacks. But S. Behrman's +foreman, a new man on Los Muertos, put in an appearance with the +report that the wagon bringing a fresh supply was approaching. + +"How is the grain elevator at Port Costa getting on, sir?" + +"Finished," replied S. Behrman. + +The new master of Los Muertos had decided upon accumulating his +grain in bulk in a great elevator at the tide-water port, where +the grain ships for Liverpool and the East took on their cargoes. +To this end, he had bought and greatly enlarged a building at +Port Costa, that was already in use for that purpose, and to this +elevator all the crop of Los Muertos was to be carried. The P. +and S. W. made S. Behrman a special rate. + +"By the way," said S. Behrman to his superintendent, "we're in +luck. Fallon's buyer was in Bonneville yesterday. He's buying +for Fallon and for Holt, too. I happened to run into him, and +I've sold a ship load." + +"A ship load!" + +"Of Los Muertos wheat. He's acting for some Indian Famine Relief +Committee--lot of women people up in the city--and wanted a whole +cargo. I made a deal with him. There's about fifty thousand +tons of disengaged shipping in San Francisco Bay right now, and +ships are fighting for charters. I wired McKissick and got a +long distance telephone from him this morning. He got me a +barque, the 'Swanhilda.' She'll dock day after to-morrow, and +begin loading." + +"Hadn't I better take a run up," observed the superintendent, +"and keep an eye on things?" + +"No," answered S. Behrman, "I want you to stop down here, and see +that those carpenters hustle the work in the ranch house. +Derrick will be out by then. You see this deal is peculiar. I'm +not selling to any middle-man--not to Fallon's buyer. He only +put me on to the thing. I'm acting direct with these women +people, and I've got to have some hand in shipping this stuff +myself. But I made my selling figure cover the price of a +charter. It's a queer, mixed-up deal, and I don't fancy it much, +but there's boodle in it. I'll go to Port Costa myself." + +A little later on in the day, when S. Behrman had satisfied +himself that his harvesting was going forward favourably, he +reentered his buggy and driving to the County Road turned +southward towards the Los Muertos ranch house. He had not gone +far, however, before he became aware of a familiar figure on +horse-back, jogging slowly along ahead of him. He recognised +Presley; he shook the reins over his horse's back and very soon +ranging up by the side of the young man passed the time of day +with him. + +"Well, what brings you down here again, Mr. Presley?" he +observed. "I thought we had seen the last of you." + +"I came down to say good-bye to my friends," answered Presley +shortly. + +"Going away?" + +"Yes--to India." + +"Well, upon my word. For your health, hey?" + +"Yes." + +"You LOOK knocked up," asserted the other. "By the way," he +added, "I suppose you've heard the news?" + +Presley shrank a little. Of late the reports of disasters had +followed so swiftly upon one another that he had begun to tremble +and to quail at every unexpected bit of information. + +"What news do you mean?" he asked. + +"About Dyke. He has been convicted. The judge sentenced him for +life." + +For life! Riding on by the side of this man through the ranches +by the County Road, Presley repeated these words to himself till +the full effect of them burst at last upon him. + +Jailed for life! No outlook. No hope for the future. Day after +day, year after year, to tread the rounds of the same gloomy +monotony. He saw the grey stone walls, the iron doors; the +flagging of the "yard" bare of grass or trees--the cell, narrow, +bald, cheerless; the prison garb, the prison fare, and round all +the grim granite of insuperable barriers, shutting out the world, +shutting in the man with outcasts, with the pariah dogs of +society, thieves, murderers, men below the beasts, lost to all +decency, drugged with opium, utter reprobates. To this, Dyke had +been brought, Dyke, than whom no man had been more honest, more +courageous, more jovial. This was the end of him, a prison; this +was his final estate, a criminal. + +Presley found an excuse for riding on, leaving S. Behrman behind +him. He did not stop at Caraher's saloon, for the heat of his +rage had long since begun to cool, and dispassionately, he saw +things in their true light. For all the tragedy of his wife's +death, Caraher was none the less an evil influence among the +ranchers, an influence that worked only to the inciting of crime. +Unwilling to venture himself, to risk his own life, the anarchist +saloon-keeper had goaded Dyke and Presley both to murder; a bad +man, a plague spot in the world of the ranchers, poisoning the +farmers' bodies with alcohol and their minds with discontent. + +At last, Presley arrived at the ranch house of Los Muertos. The +place was silent; the grass on the lawn was half dead and over a +foot high; the beginnings of weeds showed here and there in the +driveway. He tied his horse to a ring in the trunk of one of the +larger eucalyptus trees and entered the house. + +Mrs. Derrick met him in the dining-room. The old look of +uneasiness, almost of terror, had gone from her wide-open brown +eyes. There was in them instead, the expression of one to whom a +contingency, long dreaded, has arrived and passed. The stolidity +of a settled grief, of an irreparable calamity, of a despair from +which there was no escape was in her look, her manner, her voice. +She was listless, apathetic, calm with the calmness of a woman +who knows she can suffer no further. + +"We are going away," she told Presley, as the two sat down at +opposite ends of the dining table. "Just Magnus and myself--all +there is left of us. There is very little money left; Magnus can +hardly take care of himself, to say nothing of me. I must look +after him now. We are going to Marysville." + +"Why there?" + +"You see," she explained, "it happens that my old place is vacant +in the Seminary there. I am going back to teach--literature." +She smiled wearily. "It is beginning all over again, isn't it? +Only there is nothing to look forward to now. Magnus is an old +man already, and I must take care of him." + +"He will go with you, then," Presley said, "that will be some +comfort to you at least." + +"I don't know," she said slowly, "you have not seen Magnus +lately." + +"Is he--how do you mean? Isn't he any better?" + +"Would you like to see him? He is in the office. You can go +right in." + +Presley rose. He hesitated a moment, then: + +"Mrs. Annixter," he asked, "Hilma--is she still with you? I +should like to see her before I go." +"Go in and see Magnus," said Mrs. Derrick. "I will tell her you +are here." + +Presley stepped across the stone-paved hallway with the glass +roof, and after knocking three times at the office door pushed it +open and entered. + +Magnus sat in the chair before the desk and did not look up as +Presley entered. He had the appearance of a man nearer eighty +than sixty. All the old-time erectness was broken and bent. It +was as though the muscles that once had held the back rigid, the +chin high, had softened and stretched. A certain fatness, the +obesity of inertia, hung heavy around the hips and abdomen, the +eye was watery and vague, the cheeks and chin unshaven and +unkempt, the grey hair had lost its forward curl towards the +temples and hung thin and ragged around the ears. The hawk-like +nose seemed hooked to meet the chin; the lips were slack, the +mouth half-opened. + +Where once the Governor had been a model of neatness in his +dress, the frock coat buttoned, the linen clean, he now sat in +his shirt sleeves, the waistcoat open and showing the soiled +shirt. His hands were stained with ink, and these, the only +members of his body that yet appeared to retain their activity, +were busy with a great pile of papers,--oblong, legal documents, +that littered the table before him. Without a moment's +cessation, these hands of the Governor's came and went among the +papers, deft, nimble, dexterous. + +Magnus was sorting papers. From the heap upon his left hand he +selected a document, opened it, glanced over it, then tied it +carefully, and laid it away upon a second pile on his right hand. +When all the papers were in one pile, he reversed the process, +taking from his right hand to place upon his left, then back from +left to right again, then once more from right to left. He spoke +no word, he sat absolutely still, even his eyes did not move, +only his hands, swift, nervous, agitated, seemed alive. + +"Why, how are you, Governor?" said Presley, coming forward. +Magnus turned slowly about and looked at him and at the hand in +which he shook his own. + +"Ah," he said at length, "Presley...yes." + +Then his glance fell, and he looked aimlessly about upon the +floor. +"I've come to say good-bye, Governor," continued Presley, "I'm +going away." + +"Going away...yes, why it's Presley. Good-day, Presley." + +"Good-day, Governor. I'm going away. I've come to say good- +bye." + +"Good-bye?" Magnus bent his brows, "what are you saying good-bye +for?" + +"I'm going away, sir." + +The Governor did not answer. Staring at the ledge of the desk, +he seemed lost in thought. There was a long silence. Then, at +length, Presley said: + +"How are you getting on, Governor?" + +Magnus looked up slowly. + +"Why it's Presley," he said. "How do you do, Presley." + +"Are you getting on all right, sir?" + +"Yes," said Magnus after a while, "yes, all right. I am going +away. I've come to say good-bye. No--" He interrupted himself +with a deprecatory smile, "YOU said THAT, didn't you?" + +"Well, you are going away, too, your wife tells me." + +"Yes, I'm going away. I can't stay on..." he hesitated a long +time, groping for the right word, "I can't stay on--on--what's +the name of this place?" + +"Los Muertos," put in Presley. + +"No, it isn't. Yes, it is, too, that's right, Los Muertos. I +don't know where my memory has gone to of late." + +"Well, I hope you will be better soon, Governor." + +As Presley spoke the words, S. Behrman entered the room, and the +Governor sprang up with unexpected agility and stood against the +wall, drawing one long breath after another, watching the +railroad agent with intent eyes. + +S. Behrman saluted both men affably and sat down near the desk, +drawing the links of his heavy watch chain through his fat +fingers. + +"There wasn't anybody outside when I knocked, but I heard your +voice in here, Governor, so I came right in. I wanted to ask +you, Governor, if my carpenters can begin work in here day after +to-morrow. I want to take down that partition there, and throw +this room and the next into one. I guess that will be O. K., +won't it? You'll be out of here by then, won't you?" + +There was no vagueness about Magnus's speech or manner now. +There was that same alertness in his demeanour that one sees in a +tamed lion in the presence of its trainer. + +"Yes, yes," he said quickly, "you can send your men here. I will +be gone by to-morrow." + +"I don't want to seem to hurry you, Governor." +"No, you will not hurry me. I am ready to go now." + +"Anything I can do for you, Governor?" + +"Nothing." + +"Yes, there is, Governor," insisted S. Behrman. "I think now +that all is over we ought to be good friends. I think I can do +something for you. We still want an assistant in the local +freight manager's office. Now, what do you say to having a try +at it? There's a salary of fifty a month goes with it. I guess +you must be in need of money now, and there's always the wife to +support; what do you say? Will you try the place?" + +Presley could only stare at the man in speechless wonder. What +was he driving at? What reason was there back of this new move, +and why should it be made thus openly and in his hearing? An +explanation occurred to him. Was this merely a pleasantry on the +part of S. Behrman, a way of enjoying to the full his triumph; +was he testing the completeness of his victory, trying to see +just how far he could go, how far beneath his feet he could push +his old-time enemy? + +"What do you say?" he repeated. "Will you try the place?" + +"You--you INSIST?" inquired the Governor. + +"Oh, I'm not insisting on anything," cried S. Behrman. "I'm +offering you a place, that's all. Will you take it?" + +"Yes, yes, I'll take it." + +"You'll come over to our side?" + +"Yes, I'll come over." + +"You'll have to turn 'railroad,' understand?" + +"I'll turn railroad." + +"Guess there may be times when you'll have to take orders from +me." + +"I'll take orders from you." + +"You'll have to be loyal to railroad, you know. No funny +business." + +"I'll be loyal to the railroad." + +"You would like the place then?" + +"Yes." + +S. Behrman turned from Magnus, who at once resumed his seat and +began again to sort his papers. + +"Well, Presley," said the railroad agent: "I guess I won't see +you again." + +"I hope not," answered the other. + +"Tut, tut, Presley, you know you can't make me angry." + +He put on his hat of varnished straw and wiped his fat forehead +with his handkerchief. Of late, he had grown fatter than ever, +and the linen vest, stamped with a multitude of interlocked +horseshoes, strained tight its imitation pearl buttons across the +great protuberant stomach. + +Presley looked at the man a moment before replying. + +But a few weeks ago he could not thus have faced the great enemy +of the farmers without a gust of blind rage blowing tempestuous +through all his bones. Now, however, he found to his surprise +that his fury had lapsed to a profound contempt, in which there +was bitterness, but no truculence. He was tired, tired to death +of the whole business. + +"Yes," he answered deliberately, "I am going away. You have +ruined this place for me. I couldn't live here where I should +have to see you, or the results of what you have done, whenever I +stirred out of doors." + +"Nonsense, Presley," answered the other, refusing to become +angry. "That's foolishness, that kind of talk; though, of +course, I understand how you feel. I guess it was you, wasn't +it, who threw that bomb into my house?" + +"It was." + +"Well, that don't show any common sense, Presley," returned +S. Behrman with perfect aplomb. "What could you have gained by +killing me?" + +"Not so much probably as you have gained by killing Harran and +Annixter. But that's all passed now. You're safe from me." The +strangeness of this talk, the oddity of the situation burst upon +him and he laughed aloud. "It don't seem as though you could be +brought to book, S. Behrman, by anybody, or by any means, does +it? They can't get at you through the courts,--the law can't get +you, Dyke's pistol missed fire for just your benefit, and you +even escaped Caraher's six inches of plugged gas pipe. Just what +are we going to do with you?" + +"Best give it up, Pres, my boy," returned the other. "I guess +there ain't anything can touch me. Well, Magnus," he said, +turning once more to the Governor. "Well, I'll think over what +you say, and let you know if I can get the place for you in a day +or two. You see," he added, "you're getting pretty old, Magnus +Derrick." + +Presley flung himself from the room, unable any longer to witness +the depths into which Magnus had fallen. What other scenes of +degradation were enacted in that room, how much further S. +Behrman carried the humiliation, he did not know. He suddenly +felt that the air of the office was choking him. + +He hurried up to what once had been his own room. On his way he +could not but note that much of the house was in disarray, a +great packing-up was in progress; trunks, half-full, stood in the +hallways, crates and cases in a litter of straw encumbered the +rooms. The servants came and went with armfuls of books, +ornaments, articles of clothing. + +Presley took from his room only a few manuscripts and note-books, +and a small valise full of his personal effects; at the doorway +he paused and, holding the knob of the door in his hand, looked +back into the room a very long time. + +He descended to the lower floor and entered the dining-room. +Mrs. Derrick had disappeared. Presley stood for a long moment in +front of the fireplace, looking about the room, remembering the +scenes that he had witnessed there--the conference when Osterman +had first suggested the fight for Railroad Commissioner and then +later the attack on Lyman Derrick and the sudden revelation of +that inconceivable treachery. But as he stood considering these +things a door to his right opened and Hilma entered the room. + +Presley came forward, holding out his hand, all unable to believe +his eyes. It was a woman, grave, dignified, composed, who +advanced to meet him. Hilma was dressed in black, the cut and +fashion of the gown severe, almost monastic. All the little +feminine and contradictory daintinesses were nowhere to be seen. +Her statuesque calm evenness of contour yet remained, but it was +the calmness of great sorrow, of infinite resignation. Beautiful +she still remained, but she was older. The seriousness of one +who has gained the knowledge of the world--knowledge of its evil-- +seemed to envelope her. The calm gravity of a great suffering +past, but not forgotten, sat upon her. Not yet twenty-one, she +exhibited the demeanour of a woman of forty. + +The one-time amplitude of her figure, the fulness of hip and +shoulder, the great deep swell from waist to throat were gone. +She had grown thinner and, in consequence, seemed unusually, +almost unnaturally tall. Her neck was slender, the outline of +her full lips and round chin was a little sharp; her arms, those +wonderful, beautiful arms of hers, were a little shrunken. But +her eyes were as wide open as always, rimmed as ever by the thin, +intensely black line of the lashes and her brown, fragrant hair +was still thick, still, at times, glittered and coruscated in the +sun. When she spoke, it was with the old-time velvety huskiness +of voice that Annixter had learned to love so well. + +"Oh, it is you," she said, giving him her hand. "You were good +to want to see me before you left. I hear that you are going +away." + +She sat down upon the sofa. + +"Yes," Presley answered, drawing a chair near to her, "yes, I +felt I could not stay--down here any longer. I am going to take +a long ocean voyage. My ship sails in a few days. But you, Mrs. +Annixter, what are you going to do? Is there any way I can serve +you?" + +"No," she answered, "nothing. Papa is doing well. We are living +here now." + +"You are well?" + +She made a little helpless gesture with both her hands, smiling +very sadly. + +"As you see," she answered. + +As he talked, Presley was looking at her intently. Her dignity +was a new element in her character and the certain slender effect +of her figure, emphasised now by the long folds of the black gown +she wore, carried it almost superbly. She conveyed something of +the impression of a queen in exile. But she had lost none of her +womanliness; rather, the contrary. Adversity had softened her, +as well as deepened her. Presley saw that very clearly. Hilma +had arrived now at her perfect maturity; she had known great love +and she had known great grief, and the woman that had awakened in +her with her affection for Annixter had been strengthened and +infinitely ennobled by his death. +What if things had been different? Thus, as he conversed with +her, Presley found himself wondering. Her sweetness, her +beautiful gentleness, and tenderness were almost like palpable +presences. It was almost as if a caress had been laid softly +upon his cheek, as if a gentle hand closed upon his. Here, he +knew, was sympathy; here, he knew, was an infinite capacity for +love. + +Then suddenly all the tired heart of him went out towards her. A +longing to give the best that was in him to the memory of her, to +be strong and noble because of her, to reshape his purposeless, +half-wasted life with her nobility and purity and gentleness for +his inspiration leaped all at once within him, leaped and stood +firm, hardening to a resolve stronger than any he had ever known. + +For an instant he told himself that the suddenness of this new +emotion must be evidence of its insincerity. He was perfectly +well aware that his impulses were abrupt and of short duration. +But he knew that this was not sudden. Without realising it, he +had been from the first drawn to Hilma, and all through these +last terrible days, since the time he had seen her at Los +Muertos, just after the battle at the ditch, she had obtruded +continually upon his thoughts. The sight of her to-day, more +beautiful than ever, quiet, strong, reserved, had only brought +matters to a culmination. + +"Are you," he asked her, "are you so unhappy, Hilma, that you can +look forward to no more brightness in your life?" + +"Unless I could forget--forget my husband," she answered, "how +can I be happy? I would rather be unhappy in remembering him +than happy in forgetting him. He was my whole world, literally +and truly. Nothing seemed to count before I knew him, and +nothing can count for me now, after I have lost him." + +"You think now," he answered, "that in being happy again you +would be disloyal to him. But you will find after a while--years +from now--that it need not be so. The part of you that belonged +to your husband can always keep him sacred, that part of you +belongs to him and he to it. But you are young; you have all +your life to live yet. Your sorrow need not be a burden to you. +If you consider it as you should--as you WILL some day, believe +me--it will only be a great help to you. It will make you more +noble, a truer woman, more generous." + +"I think I see," she answered, "and I never thought about it in +that light before." + +"I want to help you," he answered, "as you have helped me. I +want to be your friend, and above all things I do not want to see +your life wasted. I am going away and it is quite possible I +shall never see you again, but you will always be a help to me." + +"I do not understand," she answered, "but I know you mean to be +very, very kind to me. Yes, I hope when you come back--if you +ever do--you will still be that. I do not know why you should +want to be so kind, unless--yes, of course--you were my husband's +dearest friend." + +They talked a little longer, and at length Presley rose. + +"I cannot bring myself to see Mrs. Derrick again," he said. "It +would only serve to make her very unhappy. Will you explain that +to her? I think she will understand." + +"Yes," answered Hilma. "Yes, I will." + +There was a pause. There seemed to be nothing more for either of +them to say. Presley held out his hand. + +"Good-bye," she said, as she gave him hers. + +He carried it to his lips. + +"Good-bye," he answered. "Good-bye and may God bless you." + +He turned away abruptly and left the room. +But as he was quietly making his way out of the house, hoping to +get to his horse unobserved, he came suddenly upon Mrs. Dyke and +Sidney on the porch of the house. He had forgotten that since +the affair at the ditch, Los Muertos had been a home to the +engineer's mother and daughter. + +"And you, Mrs. Dyke," he asked as he took her hand, "in this +break-up of everything, where do you go?" + +"To the city," she answered, "to San Francisco. I have a sister +there who will look after the little tad." + +"But you, how about yourself, Mrs. Dyke?" + +She answered him in a quiet voice, monotonous, expressionless: + +"I am going to die very soon, Mr. Presley. There is no reason +why I should live any longer. My son is in prison for life, +everything is over for me, and I am tired, worn out." + +"You mustn't talk like that, Mrs. Dyke," protested Presley, +"nonsense; you will live long enough to see the little tad +married." He tried to be cheerful. But he knew his words lacked +the ring of conviction. Death already overshadowed the face of +the engineer's mother. He felt that she spoke the truth, and as +he stood there speaking to her for the last time, his arm about +little Sidney's shoulder, he knew that he was seeing the +beginnings of the wreck of another family and that, like Hilda +Hooven, another baby girl was to be started in life, through no +fault of hers, fearfully handicapped, weighed down at the +threshold of existence with a load of disgrace. Hilda Hooven and +Sidney Dyke, what was to be their histories? the one, sister of +an outcast; the other, daughter of a convict. And he thought of +that other young girl, the little Honora Gerard, the heiress of +millions, petted, loved, receiving adulation from all who came +near to her, whose only care was to choose from among the +multitude of pleasures that the world hastened to present to her +consideration. + +"Good-bye," he said, holding out his hand. + +"Good-bye." + +"Good-bye, Sidney." + +He kissed the little girl, clasped Mrs. Dyke's hand a moment with +his; then, slinging his satchel about his shoulders by the long +strap with which it was provided, left the house, and mounting +his horse rode away from Los Muertos never to return. + +Presley came out upon the County Road. At a little distance to +his left he could see the group of buildings where once Broderson +had lived. These were being remodelled, at length, to suit the +larger demands of the New Agriculture. A strange man came out by +the road gate; no doubt, the new proprietor. Presley turned +away, hurrying northwards along the County Road by the mammoth +watering-tank and the long wind-break of poplars. + +He came to Caraher's place. There was no change here. The +saloon had weathered the storm, indispensable to the new as well +as to the old regime. The same dusty buggies and buckboards were +tied under the shed, and as Presley hurried by he could +distinguish Caraher's voice, loud as ever, still proclaiming his +creed of annihilation. + +Bonneville Presley avoided. He had no associations with the +town. He turned aside from the road, and crossing the northwest +corner of Los Muertos and the line of the railroad, turned back +along the Upper Road till he came to the Long Trestle and +Annixter's,--Silence, desolation, abandonment. + +A vast stillness, profound, unbroken, brooded low over all the +place. No living thing stirred. The rusted wind-mill on the +skeleton-like tower of the artesian well was motionless; the +great barn empty; the windows of the ranch house, cook house, and +dairy boarded up. Nailed upon a tree near the broken gateway was +a board, white painted, with stencilled letters, bearing the +inscription: + +"Warning. ALL PERSONS FOUND TRESPASSING ON THESE PREMISES WILL +BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW. By order P. and +S. W. R. R." + +As he had planned, Presley reached the hills by the head waters +of Broderson's Creek late in the afternoon. Toilfully he climbed +them, reached the highest crest, and turning about, looked long +and for the last time at all the reach of the valley unrolled +beneath him. The land of the ranches opened out forever and +forever under the stimulus of that measureless range of vision. +The whole gigantic sweep of the San Joaquin expanded Titanic +before the eye of the mind, flagellated with heat, quivering and +shimmering under the sun's red eye. It was the season after the +harvest, and the great earth, the mother, after its period of +reproduction, its pains of labour, delivered of the fruit of its +loins, slept the sleep of exhaustion in the infinite repose of +the colossus, benignant, eternal, strong, the nourisher of +nations, the feeder of an entire world. + +And as Presley looked there came to him strong and true the sense +and the significance of all the enigma of growth. He seemed for +one instant to touch the explanation of existence. Men were +nothings, mere animalculae, mere ephemerides that fluttered and +fell and were forgotten between dawn and dusk. Vanamee had said +there was no death. But for one second Presley could go one step +further. Men were naught, death was naught, life was naught; +FORCE only existed--FORCE that brought men into the world, FORCE +that crowded them out of it to make way for the succeeding +generation, FORCE that made the wheat grow, FORCE that garnered +it from the soil to give place to the succeeding crop. + +It was the mystery of creation, the stupendous miracle of +recreation; the vast rhythm of the seasons, measured, +alternative, the sun and the stars keeping time as the eternal +symphony of reproduction swung in its tremendous cadences like +the colossal pendulum of an almighty machine--primordial energy +flung out from the hand of the Lord God himself, immortal, calm, +infinitely strong. + +But as he stood thus looking down upon the great valley he was +aware of the figure of a man, far in the distance, moving +steadily towards the Mission of San Juan. The man was hardly +more than a dot, but there was something unmistakably familiar in +his gait; and besides this, Presley could fancy that he was +hatless. He touched his pony with his spur. The man was Vanamee +beyond all doubt, and a little later Presley, descending the maze +of cow-paths and cattle-trails that led down towards the +Broderson Creek, overtook his friend. + +Instantly Presley was aware of an immense change. Vanamee's face +was still that of an ascetic, still glowed with the rarefied +intelligence of a young seer, a half-inspired shepherd-prophet of +Hebraic legends; but the shadow of that great sadness which for +so long had brooded over him was gone; the grief that once he had +fancied deathless was, indeed, dead, or rather swallowed up in a +victorious joy that radiated like sunlight at dawn from the deep- +set eyes, and the hollow, swarthy cheeks. They talked together +till nearly sundown, but to Presley's questions as to the reasons +for Vanamee's happiness, the other would say nothing. Once only +he allowed himself to touch upon the subject. + +"Death and grief are little things," he said. "They are +transient. Life must be before death, and joy before grief. +Else there are no such things as death or grief. These are only +negatives. Life is positive. Death is only the absence of life, +just as night is only the absence of day, and if this is so, +there is no such thing as death. There is only life, and the +suppression of life, that we, foolishly, say is death. +'Suppression,' I say, not extinction. I do not say that life +returns. Life never departs. Life simply IS. For certain +seasons, it is hidden in the dark, but is that death, extinction, +annihilation? I take it, thank God, that it is not. Does the +grain of wheat, hidden for certain seasons in the dark, die? The +grain we think is dead RESUMES AGAIN; but how? Not as one grain, +but as twenty. So all life. Death is only real for all the +detritus of the world, for all the sorrow, for all the injustice, +for all the grief. Presley, the good never dies; evil dies, +cruelty, oppression, selfishness, greed--these die; but nobility, +but love, but sacrifice, but generosity, but truth, thank God for +it, small as they are, difficult as it is to discover them--these +live forever, these are eternal. You are all broken, all cast +down by what you have seen in this valley, this hopeless +struggle, this apparently hopeless despair. Well, the end is not +yet. What is it that remains after all is over, after the dead +are buried and the hearts are broken? Look at it all from the +vast height of humanity--'the greatest good to the greatest +numbers.' What remains? Men perish, men are corrupted, hearts +are rent asunder, but what remains untouched, unassailable, +undefiled? Try to find that, not only in this, but in every +crisis of the world's life, and you will find, if your view be +large enough, that it is not evil, but good, that in the end +remains." + +There was a long pause. Presley, his mind full of new thoughts, +held his peace, and Vanamee added at length: + +"I believed Angele dead. I wept over her grave; mourned for her +as dead in corruption. She has come back to me, more beautiful +than ever. Do not ask me any further. To put this story, this +idyl, into words, would, for me, be a profanation. This must +suffice you. Angele has returned to me, and I am happy. Adios." + +He rose suddenly. The friends clasped each other's hands. + +"We shall probably never meet again," said Vanamee; "but if these +are the last words I ever speak to you, listen to them, and +remember them, because I know I speak the truth. Evil is short- +lived. Never judge of the whole round of life by the mere +segment you can see. The whole is, in the end, perfect." + +Abruptly he took himself away. He was gone. Presley, alone, +thoughtful, his hands clasped behind him, passed on through the +ranches--here teeming with ripened wheat--his face set from them +forever. + +Not so Vanamee. For hours he roamed the countryside, now through +the deserted cluster of buildings that had once been Annixter's +home; now through the rustling and, as yet, uncut wheat of Quien +Sabe! now treading the slopes of the hills far to the north, and +again following the winding courses of the streams. Thus he +spent the night. + +At length, the day broke, resplendent, cloudless. The night was +passed. There was all the sparkle and effervescence of joy in +the crystal sunlight as the dawn expanded roseate, and at length +flamed dazzling to the zenith when the sun moved over the edge of +the world and looked down upon all the earth like the eye of God +the Father. + +At the moment, Vanamee stood breast-deep in the wheat in a +solitary corner of the Quien Sabe rancho. He turned eastward, +facing the celestial glory of the day and sent his voiceless call +far from him across the golden grain out towards the little +valley of flowers. + +Swiftly the answer came. It advanced to meet him. The flowers +of the Seed ranch were gone, dried and parched by the summer's +sun, shedding their seed by handfuls to be sown again and blossom +yet another time. The Seed ranch was no longer royal with +colour. The roses, the lilies, the carnations, the hyacinths, +the poppies, the violets, the mignonette, all these had vanished, +the little valley was without colour; where once it had exhaled +the most delicious perfume, it was now odourless. Under the +blinding light of the day it stretched to its hillsides, bare, +brown, unlovely. The romance of the place had vanished, but with +it had vanished the Vision. + +It was no longer a figment of his imagination, a creature of +dreams that advanced to meet Vanamee. It was Reality--it was +Angele in the flesh, vital, sane, material, who at last issued +forth from the entrance of the little valley. Romance had +vanished, but better than romance was here. Not a manifestation, +not a dream, but her very self. The night was gone, but the sun +had risen; the flowers had disappeared, but strong, vigorous, +noble, the wheat had come. + +In the wheat he waited for her. He saw her coming. She was +simply dressed. No fanciful wreath of tube-roses was about her +head now, no strange garment of red and gold enveloped her now. +It was no longer an ephemeral illusion of the night, evanescent, +mystic, but a simple country girl coming to meet her lover. The +vision of the night had been beautiful, but what was it compared +to this? Reality was better than Romance. The simple honesty of +a loving, trusting heart was better than a legend of flowers, an +hallucination of the moonlight. She came nearer. Bathed in +sunlight, he saw her face to face, saw her hair hanging in two +straight plaits on either side of her face, saw the enchanting +fulness of her lips, the strange, balancing movement of her head +upon her slender neck. But now she was no longer asleep. The +wonderful eyes, violet blue, heavy-lidded, with their perplexing, +oriental slant towards the temples, were wide open and fixed upon +his. + +From out the world of romance, out of the moonlight and the star +sheen, out of the faint radiance of the lilies and the still air +heavy with perfume, she had at last come to him. The moonlight, +the flowers, and the dream were all vanished away. Angele was +realised in the Wheat. She stood forth in the sunlight, a fact, +and no longer a fancy. + +He ran forward to meet her and she held out her arms to him. He +caught her to him, and she, turning her face to his, kissed him +on the mouth. + +"I love you, I love you," she murmured. + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +Upon descending from his train at Port Costa, S. Behrman asked to +be directed at once to where the bark "Swanhilda" was taking on +grain. Though he had bought and greatly enlarged his new +elevator at this port, he had never seen it. The work had been +carried on through agents, S. Behrman having far too many and +more pressing occupations to demand his presence and attention. +Now, however, he was to see the concrete evidence of his success +for the first time. + +He picked his way across the railroad tracks to the line of +warehouses that bordered the docks, numbered with enormous Roman +numerals and full of grain in bags. +The sight of these bags of grain put him in mind of the fact that +among all the other shippers he was practically alone in his way +of handling his wheat. They handled the grain in bags; he, +however, preferred it in the bulk. Bags were sometimes four +cents apiece, and he had decided to build his elevator and bulk +his grain therein, rather than to incur this expense. Only a +small part of his wheat--that on Number Three division--had been +sacked. All the rest, practically two-thirds of the entire +harvest of Los Muertos, now found itself warehoused in his +enormous elevator at Port Costa. + +To a certain degree it had been the desire of observing the +working of his system of handling the wheat in bulk that had +drawn S. Behrman to Port Costa. But the more powerful motive had +been curiosity, not to say downright sentiment. So long had he +planned for this day of triumph, so eagerly had he looked forward +to it, that now, when it had come, he wished to enjoy it to its +fullest extent, wished to miss no feature of the disposal of the +crop. He had watched it harvested, he had watched it hauled to +the railway, and now would watch it as it poured into the hold of +the ship, would even watch the ship as she cleared and got under +way. + +He passed through the warehouses and came out upon the dock that +ran parallel with the shore of the bay. A great quantity of +shipping was in view, barques for the most part, Cape Horners, +great, deep sea tramps, whose iron-shod forefeet had parted every +ocean the world round from Rangoon to Rio Janeiro, and from +Melbourne to Christiania. Some were still in the stream, loaded +with wheat to the Plimsoll mark, ready to depart with the next +tide. But many others laid their great flanks alongside the +docks and at that moment were being filled by derrick and crane +with thousands upon thousands of bags of wheat. The scene was +brisk; the cranes creaked and swung incessantly with a rattle of +chains; stevedores and wharfingers toiled and perspired; +boatswains and dock-masters shouted orders, drays rumbled, the +water lapped at the piles; a group of sailors, painting the +flanks of one of the great ships, raised an occasional chanty; +the trade wind sang aeolian in the cordages, filling the air with +the nimble taint of salt. All around were the noises of ships +and the feel and flavor of the sea. + +S. Behrman soon discovered his elevator. It was the largest +structure discernible, and upon its red roof, in enormous white +letters, was his own name. Thither, between piles of grain bags, +halted drays, crates and boxes of merchandise, with an occasional +pyramid of salmon cases, S. Behrman took his way. Cabled to the +dock, close under his elevator, lay a great ship with lofty masts +and great spars. Her stern was toward him as he approached, and +upon it, in raised golden letters, he could read the words +"Swanhilda--Liverpool." + +He went aboard by a very steep gangway and found the mate on the +quarter deck. S. Behrman introduced himself. + +"Well," he added, "how are you getting on?" + +"Very fairly, sir," returned the mate, who was an Englishman. +"We'll have her all snugged down tight by this time, day after +to-morrow. It's a great saving of time shunting the stuff in her +like that, and three men can do the work of seven." + +"I'll have a look 'round, I believe," returned S. Behrman. + +"Right--oh," answered the mate with a nod. + +S. Behrman went forward to the hatch that opened down into the +vast hold of the ship. A great iron chute connected this hatch +with the elevator, and through it was rushing a veritable +cataract of wheat. + +It came from some gigantic bin within the elevator itself, +rushing down the confines of the chute to plunge into the roomy, +gloomy interior of the hold with an incessant, metallic roar, +persistent, steady, inevitable. No men were in sight. The place +was deserted. No human agency seemed to be back of the movement +of the wheat. Rather, the grain seemed impelled with a force of +its own, a resistless, huge force, eager, vivid, impatient for +the sea. + +S. Behrman stood watching, his ears deafened with the roar of the +hard grains against the metallic lining of the chute. He put his +hand once into the rushing tide, and the contact rasped the flesh +of his fingers and like an undertow drew his hand after it in its +impetuous dash. + +Cautiously he peered down into the hold. A musty odour rose to +his nostrils, the vigorous, pungent aroma of the raw cereal. It +was dark. He could see nothing; but all about and over the +opening of the hatch the air was full of a fine, impalpable dust +that blinded the eyes and choked the throat and nostrils. + +As his eyes became used to the shadows of the cavern below him, +he began to distinguish the grey mass of the wheat, a great +expanse, almost liquid in its texture, which, as the cataract +from above plunged into it, moved and shifted in long, slow +eddies. As he stood there, this cataract on a sudden increased +in volume. He turned about, casting his eyes upward toward the +elevator to discover the cause. His foot caught in a coil of +rope, and he fell headforemost into the hold. + +The fall was a long one and he struck the surface of the wheat +with the sodden impact of a bundle of damp clothes. For the +moment he was stunned. All the breath was driven from his body. +He could neither move nor cry out. But, by degrees, his wits +steadied themselves and his breath returned to him. He looked +about and above him. The daylight in the hold was dimmed and +clouded by the thick, chaff-dust thrown off by the pour of grain, +and even this dimness dwindled to twilight at a short distance +from the opening of the hatch, while the remotest quarters were +lost in impenetrable blackness. He got upon his feet only to +find that he sunk ankle deep in the loose packed mass underfoot. + +"Hell," he muttered, "here's a fix." + +Directly underneath the chute, the wheat, as it poured in, raised +itself in a conical mound, but from the sides of this mound it +shunted away incessantly in thick layers, flowing in all +directions with the nimbleness of water. Even as S. Behrman +spoke, a wave of grain poured around his legs and rose rapidly to +the level of his knees. He stepped quickly back. To stay near +the chute would soon bury him to the waist. + +No doubt, there was some other exit from the hold, some companion +ladder that led up to the deck. He scuffled and waded across the +wheat, groping in the dark with outstretched hands. With every +inhalation he choked, filling his mouth and nostrils more with +dust than with air. At times he could not breathe at all, but +gagged and gasped, his lips distended. But search as he would he +could find no outlet to the hold, no stairway, no companion +ladder. Again and again, staggering along in the black darkness, +he bruised his knuckles and forehead against the iron sides of +the ship. He gave up the attempt to find any interior means of +escape and returned laboriously to the space under the open +hatchway. Already he could see that the level of the wheat was +raised. + +"God," he said, "this isn't going to do at all." He uttered a +great shout. "Hello, on deck there, somebody. For God's sake." + +The steady, metallic roar of the pouring wheat drowned out his +voice. He could scarcely hear it himself above the rush of the +cataract. Besides this, he found it impossible to stay under the +hatch. The flying grains of wheat, spattering as they fell, +stung his face like wind-driven particles of ice. It was a +veritable torture; his hands smarted with it. Once he was all +but blinded. Furthermore, the succeeding waves of wheat, rolling +from the mound under the chute, beat him back, swirling and +dashing against his legs and knees, mounting swiftly higher, +carrying him off his feet. + +Once more he retreated, drawing back from beneath the hatch. He +stood still for a moment and shouted again. It was in vain. His +voice returned upon him, unable to penetrate the thunder of the +chute, and horrified, he discovered that so soon as he stood +motionless upon the wheat, he sank into it. Before he knew it, +he was knee-deep again, and a long swirl of grain sweeping +outward from the ever-breaking, ever-reforming pyramid below the +chute, poured around his thighs, immobolising him. + +A frenzy of terror suddenly leaped to life within him. The +horror of death, the Fear of The Trap, shook him like a dry reed. +Shouting, he tore himself free of the wheat and once more +scrambled and struggled towards the hatchway. He stumbled as he +reached it and fell directly beneath the pour. Like a storm of +small shot, mercilessly, pitilessly, the unnumbered multitude of +hurtling grains flagellated and beat and tore his flesh. Blood +streamed from his forehead and, thickening with the powder-like +chaff-dust, blinded his eyes. He struggled to his feet once +more. An avalanche from the cone of wheat buried him to his +thighs. He was forced back and back and back, beating the air, +falling, rising, howling for aid. He could no longer see; his +eyes, crammed with dust, smarted as if transfixed with needles +whenever he opened them. His mouth was full of the dust, his +lips were dry with it; thirst tortured him, while his outcries +choked and gagged in his rasped throat. + +And all the while without stop, incessantly, inexorably, the +wheat, as if moving with a force all its own, shot downward in a +prolonged roar, persistent, steady, inevitable. + +He retreated to a far corner of the hold and sat down with his +back against the iron hull of the ship and tried to collect his +thoughts, to calm himself. Surely there must be some way of +escape; surely he was not to die like this, die in this dreadful +substance that was neither solid nor fluid. What was he to do? +How make himself heard? + +But even as he thought about this, the cone under the chute broke +again and sent a great layer of grain rippling and tumbling +toward him. It reached him where he sat and buried his hand and +one foot. + +He sprang up trembling and made for another corner. + +"By God," he cried, "by God, I must think of something pretty +quick!" + +Once more the level of the wheat rose and the grains began piling +deeper about him. Once more he retreated. Once more he crawled +staggering to the foot of the cataract, screaming till his ears +sang and his eyeballs strained in their sockets, and once more +the relentless tide drove him back. + +Then began that terrible dance of death; the man dodging, +doubling, squirming, hunted from one corner to another, the wheat +slowly, inexorably flowing, rising, spreading to every angle, to +every nook and cranny. It reached his middle. Furious and with +bleeding hands and broken nails, he dug his way out to fall +backward, all but exhausted, gasping for breath in the dust- +thickened air. Roused again by the slow advance of the tide, he +leaped up and stumbled away, blinded with the agony in his eyes, +only to crash against the metal hull of the vessel. He turned +about, the blood streaming from his face, and paused to collect +his senses, and with a rush, another wave swirled about his +ankles and knees. Exhaustion grew upon him. To stand still +meant to sink; to lie or sit meant to be buried the quicker; and +all this in the dark, all this in an air that could scarcely be +breathed, all this while he fought an enemy that could not be +gripped, toiling in a sea that could not be stayed. + +Guided by the sound of the falling wheat, S. Behrman crawled on +hands and knees toward the hatchway. Once more he raised his +voice in a shout for help. His bleeding throat and raw, parched +lips refused to utter but a wheezing moan. Once more he tried to +look toward the one patch of faint light above him. His eye- +lids, clogged with chaff, could no longer open. The Wheat poured +about his waist as he raised himself upon his knees. + +Reason fled. Deafened with the roar of the grain, blinded and +made dumb with its chaff, he threw himself forward with clutching +fingers, rolling upon his back, and lay there, moving feebly, the +head rolling from side to side. The Wheat, leaping continuously +from the chute, poured around him. It filled the pockets of the +coat, it crept up the sleeves and trouser legs, it covered the +great, protuberant stomach, it ran at last in rivulets into the +distended, gasping mouth. It covered the face. +Upon the surface of the Wheat, under the chute, nothing moved but +the Wheat itself. There was no sign of life. Then, for an +instant, the surface stirred. A hand, fat, with short fingers +and swollen veins, reached up, clutching, then fell limp and +prone. In another instant it was covered. In the hold of the +"Swanhilda" there was no movement but the widening ripples that +spread flowing from the ever-breaking, ever-reforming cone; no +sound, but the rushing of the Wheat that continued to plunge +incessantly from the iron chute in a prolonged roar, persistent, +steady, inevitable. + + + +CONCLUSION + + +The "Swanhilda" cast off from the docks at Port Costa two days +after Presley had left Bonneville and the ranches and made her +way up to San Francisco, anchoring in the stream off the City +front. A few hours after her arrival, Presley, waiting at his +club, received a despatch from Cedarquist to the effect that she +would clear early the next morning and that he must be aboard of +her before midnight. + +He sent his trunks aboard and at once hurried to Cedarquist's +office to say good-bye. He found the manufacturer in excellent +spirits. + +"What do you think of Lyman Derrick now, Presley?" he said, when +Presley had sat down. "He's in the new politics with a +vengeance, isn't he? And our own dear Railroad openly +acknowledges him as their candidate. You've heard of his +canvass." + +"Yes, yes," answered Presley. "Well, he knows his business +best." + +But Cedarquist was full of another idea: his new venture--the +organizing of a line of clipper wheat ships for Pacific and +Oriental trade--was prospering. + +"The 'Swanhilda' is the mother of the fleet, Pres. I had to buy +HER, but the keel of her sister ship will be laid by the time she +discharges at Calcutta. We'll carry our wheat into Asia yet. +The Anglo-Saxon started from there at the beginning of everything +and it's manifest destiny that he must circle the globe and fetch +up where he began his march. You are up with procession, Pres, +going to India this way in a wheat ship that flies American +colours. By the way, do you know where the money is to come from +to build the sister ship of the 'Swanhilda'? From the sale of +the plant and scrap iron of the Atlas Works. Yes, I've given it +up definitely, that business. The people here would not back me +up. But I'm working off on this new line now. It may break me, +but we'll try it on. You know the 'Million Dollar Fair' was +formally opened yesterday. There is," he added with a wink, "a +Midway Pleasance in connection with the thing. Mrs. Cedarquist +and our friend Hartrath 'got up a subscription' to construct a +figure of California--heroic size--out of dried apricots. I +assure you," he remarked With prodigious gravity, "it is a real +work of art and quite a 'feature' of the Fair. Well, good luck +to you, Pres. Write to me from Honolulu, and bon voyage. My +respects to the hungry Hindoo. Tell him 'we're coming, Father +Abraham, a hundred thousand more.' Tell the men of the East to +look out for the men of the West. The irrepressible Yank is +knocking at the doors of their temples and he will want to sell +'em carpet-sweepers for their harems and electric light plants +for their temple shrines. Good-bye to you." + +"Good-bye, sir." + +"Get fat yourself while you're about it, Presley," he observed, +as the two stood up and shook hands. + +"There shouldn't be any lack of food on a wheat ship. Bread +enough, surely." + +"Little monotonous, though. 'Man cannot live by bread alone.' +Well, you're really off. Good-bye." + +"Good-bye, sir." + +And as Presley issued from the building and stepped out into the +street, he was abruptly aware of a great wagon shrouded in white +cloth, inside of which a bass drum was being furiously beaten. +On the cloth, in great letters, were the words: + +"Vote for Lyman Derrick, Regular Republican Nominee for Governor +of California." + +* * * * * * * * * * * * * * + +The "Swanhilda" lifted and rolled slowly, majestically on the +ground swell of the Pacific, the water hissing and boiling under +her forefoot, her cordage vibrating and droning in the steady +rush of the trade winds. It was drawing towards evening and her +lights had just been set. The master passed Presley, who was +leaning over the rail smoking a cigarette, and paused long enough +to remark: + +"The land yonder, if you can make it out, is Point Gordo, and if +you were to draw a line from our position now through that point +and carry it on about a hundred miles further, it would just +about cross Tulare County not very far from where you used to +live." + +"I see," answered Presley, "I see. Thanks. I am glad to know +that." + +The master passed on, and Presley, going up to the quarter deck, +looked long and earnestly at the faint line of mountains that +showed vague and bluish above the waste of tumbling water. + +Those were the mountains of the Coast range and beyond them was +what once had been his home. Bonneville was there, and +Guadalajara and Los Muertos and Quien Sabe, the Mission of San +Juan, the Seed ranch, Annixter's desolated home and Dyke's ruined +hop-fields. + +Well, it was all over now, that terrible drama through which he +had lived. Already it was far distant from him; but once again +it rose in his memory, portentous, sombre, ineffaceable. He +passed it all in review from the day of his first meeting with +Vanamee to the day of his parting with Hilma. He saw it all--the +great sweep of country opening to view from the summit of the +hills at the head waters of Broderson's Creek; the barn dance at +Annixter's, the harness room with its jam of furious men; the +quiet garden of the Mission; Dyke's house, his flight upon the +engine, his brave fight in the chaparral; Lyman Derrick at bay in +the dining-room of the ranch house; the rabbit drive; the fight +at the irrigating ditch, the shouting mob in the Bonneville Opera +House. +The drama was over. The fight of Ranch and Railroad had been +wrought out to its dreadful close. It was true, as Shelgrim had +said, that forces rather than men had locked horns in that +struggle, but for all that the men of the Ranch and not the men +of the Railroad had suffered. Into the prosperous valley, into +the quiet community of farmers, that galloping monster, that +terror of steel and steam had burst, shooting athwart the +horizons, flinging the echo of its thunder over all the ranches +of the valley, leaving blood and destruction in its path. + +Yes, the Railroad had prevailed. The ranches had been seized in +the tentacles of the octopus; the iniquitous burden of +extortionate freight rates had been imposed like a yoke of iron. +The monster had killed Harran, had killed Osterman, had killed +Broderson, had killed Hooven. It had beggared Magnus and had +driven him to a state of semi-insanity after he had wrecked his +honour in the vain attempt to do evil that good might come. It +had enticed Lyman into its toils to pluck from him his manhood +and his honesty, corrupting him and poisoning him beyond +redemption; it had hounded Dyke from his legitimate employment +and had made of him a highwayman and criminal. It had cast forth +Mrs. Hooven to starve to death upon the City streets. It had +driven Minna to prostitution. It had slain Annixter at the very +moment when painfully and manfully he had at last achieved his +own salvation and stood forth resolved to do right, to act +unselfishly and to live for others. It had widowed Hilma in the +very dawn of her happiness. It had killed the very babe within +the mother's womb, strangling life ere yet it had been born, +stamping out the spark ordained by God to burn through all +eternity. + +What then was left? Was there no hope, no outlook for the +future, no rift in the black curtain, no glimmer through the +night? Was good to be thus overthrown? Was evil thus to be +strong and to prevail? Was nothing left? + +Then suddenly Vanamee's words came back to his mind. What was +the larger view, what contributed the greatest good to the +greatest numbers? What was the full round of the circle whose +segment only he beheld? In the end, the ultimate, final end of +all, what was left? Yes, good issued from this crisis, +untouched, unassailable, undefiled. + +Men--motes in the sunshine--perished, were shot down in the very +noon of life, hearts were broken, little children started in life +lamentably handicapped; young girls were brought to a life of +shame; old women died in the heart of life for lack of food. In +that little, isolated group of human insects, misery, death, and +anguish spun like a wheel of fire. + +BUT THE WHEAT REMAINED. Untouched, unassailable, undefiled, that +mighty world-force, that nourisher of nations, wrapped in +Nirvanic calm, indifferent to the human swarm, gigantic, +resistless, moved onward in its appointed grooves. Through the +welter of blood at the irrigation ditch, through the sham charity +and shallow philanthropy of famine relief committees, the great +harvest of Los Muertos rolled like a flood from the Sierras to +the Himalayas to feed thousands of starving scarecrows on the +barren plains of India. + +Falseness dies; injustice and oppression in the end of everything +fade and vanish away. Greed, cruelty, selfishness, and +inhumanity are short-lived; the individual suffers, but the race +goes on. Annixter dies, but in a far distant corner of the world +a thousand lives are saved. The larger view always and through +all shams, all wickednesses, discovers the Truth that will, in +the end, prevail, and all things, surely, inevitably, +resistlessly work together for good. + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of Frank Norris's The Octopus + + |