XV
THE JUNKETERS
When Receiver Guilford took possession of the properties, appurtenancesand appendages of the sequestered Trans-Western Railway, one of theluxuries to which he fell heir was private car "Naught-seven," acommodious hotel on wheels originally used as the directors' car of theWestern Pacific, and later taken over by Loring to be put in commission asthe general manager's special.
In the hands of a friendly receiver this car became a boon to the capitolcontingent; its observation platform served as a shifting rostrum fromwhich a deep-chested executive or a mellifluous Hawk often addressedadmiring crowds at way stations, and its dining saloon was the movingscene of many little relaxative feasts, at which _Veuve Cliquot_ flowedfreely, priceless cigars were burned, and the members of the organizationunbent, each after his kind.
But to the men of the throttle and oil-can, car Naught-seven, in the giftof a hospitable receiver, shortly became a nightmare. Like most privatecars, it was heavier than the heaviest Pullman; and the engineer who wasconstrained to haul it like a dragging anchor at the tail end of a fasttrain was prone to say words not to be found in any vocabulary known torespectable philologists.
It was in the evening of a wind-blown day, a week after Kent's visit toGaston, that Engineer "Red" Callahan, oiling around for the all-night runwith the Flyer on the Western Division, heard above the din and clamor ofUnion Station noises the sullen thump betokening the addition of anothercar to his train.
"Now fwhat the divvle will that be?" he rasped, pausing, torch in hand, toapostrophize his fireman.
The answer came up out of the shadows to the rear on the lips of M'Tosh,the train-master.
"You have the Naught-seven to-night, Callahan, and a pretty severe headwind. Can you make your time?"
"Haven't thim bloody fools in the up-town office anything betther to dothan to tie that sivinty-ton ball-an'-chain to my leg such a night asthis?" This is not what Callahan said: it is merely a printable paraphraseof his rejoinder.
M'Tosh shook his head. He was a hold-over from the Loring administration,not because his place was not worth taking, but because as yet nopolitical heeler had turned up with the requisite technical ability tohold it.
"I don't blame you for cussing it out," he said; and the saying of it wasa mark of the relaxed discipline which was creeping into all branches ofthe service. "Mr. Loring's car is anybody's private wagon these days. Canyou make your time with her?"
"Not on yer life," Callahan growled. "Is it the owld potgutted thafe iv arayceiver that's in her?"
"Yes; with Governor Bucks and a party of his friends. I take it you oughtto feel honored."
"Do I?" snapped Callahan. "If I don't make thim junketers think they're inthe scuff iv a cyclone whin I get thim on the crooks beyant Dolores ye cangimme time, Misther M'Tosh. Where do I get shut iv thim?"
"At Agua Caliente. They are going to the hotel at Breezeland, I suppose.There is your signal to pull out."
"I'll go whin I'm dommed good an' ready," said Callahan, jabbing the snoutof his oiler into the link machinery. And again M'Tosh let the breach ofdiscipline go without reproof.
Breezeland Inn, the hotel at Agua Caliente, is a year-round resort forasthmatics and other health seekers, with a sanatorium annex whichutilizes the waters of the warm springs for therapeutic purposes. Butduring the hot months the capital and the plains cities to the eastwardsend their quota of summer idlers and the house fills to its capacity.
It was for this reason that Mr. Brookes Ormsby, looking for a comfortableresort to which he might take Mrs. Brentwood and her daughters for anouting, hit upon the expedient of going first in person to Breezeland,partly to make sure of accommodations, and partly to check up theattractions of the place against picturesque descriptions in theadvertisements.
When he turned out of his sleeper in the early morning at Agua Calientestation, car Naught-seven had been thrown in on a siding a little fartherup the line, and Ormsby recognized the burly person of the governor andthe florid face and pursy figure of the receiver, in the group of mencrossing from the private car to the waiting Inn tally-ho. Being aseasoned traveler, the club-man lost no time in finding the station agent.
"Isn't there some way you can get me up to the hotel before that crowdreaches?" he asked; adding: "I'll make it worth your while."
The reply effaced the necessity for haste.
"The Inn auto will be down in a few minutes, and you can go up in that.Naught-seven brought Governor Bucks and the receiver and their party, andthey're going down to Megilp, the mining camp on the other side of theState line. They've chartered the tally-ho for the day."
Ormsby waited, and a little later was whisked away to the hotel in thetonneau of the guests' automobile. Afterward came a day which was ratherhard to get through. Breakfast, a leisurely weighing and measuring of theclimatic, picturesque and health-mending conditions, and the writing of aletter or two helped him wear out the forenoon; but after luncheon thetime dragged dispiteously, and he was glad enough when the auto-car cameto take him to the station for the evening train.
As it happened, there were no other passengers for the east-bound Flyer;and finding he still had some minutes to wait, Ormsby lounged into thetelegraph office. Here the bonds of ennui were loosened by the gradualdevelopment of a little mystery. First the telephone bell rang smartly,and when the telegraph operator took down the ear-piece and said "Well?"in the imperious tone common to his kind, he evidently received acommunication that shocked him.
Ormsby overheard but a meager half of the wire conversation; and theexcitement, whatever its nature, was at the other end of the line. Nonethe less, the station agent's broken ejaculations were provocative of keeninterest in a man who had been boring himself desperately for the betterpart of a day.
"Caught him doing it, you say?... Great Scott!... Oh, I don't believethat, you know ... yes--uh-huh--I hear ... But who did the shooting?"Whether the information came or not, Ormsby did not know, for at thisconjuncture the telegraph instruments on the table set up a furiouschattering, and the railway man dropped the receiver and sprang to hiskey.
This left the listener out of it completely, and Ormsby strolled out tothe platform, wondering what had happened and where it had happened. Heglanced up at the telephone wires: two of them ran up the graveleddriveway toward Breezeland Inn; the poles of the other two sentineled theroad to the west down which the tally-ho had driven in the early morning.
In the reflective instant the telegraph operator dashed out of hisbay-windowed retreat and ran up the track to the private car. In a fewminutes he was back again, holding an excited conference with thechauffeur of the Inn automobile, who was waiting to see if the Flyershould bring him any fares for the hotel.
Curiosity is said to be peculiarly a foible feminine. It is not, as everyone knows. But of the major masculine allotment, Ormsby the masterful hadrather less than his due share. He saw the chauffeur turn his car in thelength of it and send it spinning down the road and across the line intothe adjoining State; heard the mellow whistle of the incoming train, andsaw the station man nervously setting his stop signal; all with no morethan a mild desire to know the reason for so much excitement and haste--adesire which was content to wait on the explanation of events.
The explanation, such as it was, did not linger. The heavy train thunderedin from the west; stopped barely long enough to allow the single passengerto swing up the steps of the Pullman; and went on again to stop a secondtime with a jerk when it had passed the side-track switch.
Ormsby put his head out of the window and saw that the private car was tobe taken on; remarked also that the thing was done with the utmostcelerity. Once out on the main line with car Naught-seven coupled in, thetrain was backed swiftly down to the station and the small mystery ofhurryings was sufficiently solved. The governor and his party werereturning, and they did not wish to miss connections.
Ormsby had settled back into the corner of his section when he heard thespitting explosions of
the automobile and the crash of hoofs andiron-tired wheels on the sharp gravel. He looked out again and was in timeto see the finish of the race. Up the road from the westward came thesix-horse tally-ho, the horses galloping in the traces and the automobilestraining in the lead at the end of an improvised tow-line. In a twinklingthe coach was abreast of the private car, the transfer of passengers waseffected, and Ormsby was near enough at his onlooking window to remarkseveral things: that there was pell-mell haste and suppressed excitement;that the governor was the coolest man in the group; and that the receiverhad to be helped across from the coach to the car. Then the train movedout, gathering speed with each added wheel-turn.
The onlooker leaned from his window to see what became of the tangle ofhorses and auto-car precipitated by the sudden stop of the tally-ho.Mirage effects are common on the western plains, and if Ormsby had notbeen familiar with them he might have marveled at the striking exampleafforded by the backward look. In the rapidly increasing perspective thesix horses of the tally-ho were suddenly multiplied into a troop; andwhere the station agent had stood on the platform there seemed to be adozen gesticulating figures fading into indistinctness, as the fast trainswept on its way eastward.
The club-man saw no more of the junketing party that night. Once when thetrain stopped to cut out the dining-car, and he had stepped down for abreath of fresh air on the station platform, he noticed that the privatecar was brilliantly lighted, and that the curtains and window shades wereclosely drawn. Also, he heard the popping of bottle corks and the clink ofglass, betokening that the governor's party was still celebrating itssuccessful race for the train. Singularly enough, Ormsby's reflectionsconcerned themselves chiefly with the small dishonesty.
"I suppose it all goes into the receiver's expense account and therailroad pays for it," he said to himself. "So and so much for aninspection trip to Megilp and return. I must tell Kent about it. It willput another shovelful of coal into his furnace--not that he is especiallyneeding it."
* * * * *
At the moment of this saying--it was between ten and eleven o'clock atnight--David Kent's wrath-fire was far from needing an additional stoking.Once more Miss Van Brock had given proof of her prophetic gift, and Kenthad been moodily filling in the details of the picture drawn by herwoman's intuition. He had gone late to the house in Alameda Square,knowing that Portia had dinner guests. And it was imperative that heshould have her to himself.
"You needn't tell me anything but the manner of its doing," she wassaying. "I knew they would find a way to stop you--or make one. And youneedn't be spiteful at me," she added, when Kent gripped the arms of hischair.
"I don't mind your saying 'I told you so'," he fumed. "It's the fact thatI didn't have sense enough to see what an easy game I was dealing them. Itdidn't take Meigs five minutes to shut me off."
"Tell me about it," she said; and he did it crisply.
"The _quo warranto_ inquiry is instituted in the name of the State; orrather the proceedings are brought by some person with the approval of thegovernor or the attorney-general, one or both. I took to-day for obtainingthis approval because I knew Bucks was out of town and I thought I couldbully Meigs."
"And you couldn't?" she said.
"Not in a thousand years. At first he said he would take the matter underadvisement: I knew that meant a consultation with Bucks. Then I put thewhip on; told him a few of the things I know, and let him imagine a lotmore; but it was no good. He was as smooth as oil, admitting nothing,denying nothing. And what grinds me worst is that I let him put me infault; gave him a chance to show conclusively how absurd it was for me toexpect him to take up a question of such magnitude on the spur of themoment."
"Of course," she said sympathetically. "I knew they would find a way. Whatare you doing?"
Kent laughed in spite of his sore _amour-propre_.
"At this present moment I am doing precisely what you said I should:unloading my woes upon you."
"Oh, but I didn't say that. I said you would come to me for help. Haveyou?"
"I'd say yes, if I didn't know so well just what I am up against."
Miss Van Brock laughed unfeelingly.
"Is it a man's weakness to fight better in the dark?"
"It is a man's common sense to know when he is knocked out," he retorted.
She held him with her eyes while she said:
"Tell me what you want to accomplish, David; at the end of the ends, Imean. Is it only that you wish to save Miss Brentwood's little marriageportion?"
He told the simple truth, as who could help, with Portia's eyes demandingit.
"It was that at first; I'll admit it. But latterly--"
"Latterly you have begun to think larger things?" She looked away fromhim, and her next word seemed to be part of an unspoken thought. "I havebeen wondering if you are great enough, David."
He shook his head despondently.
"Haven't I just been showing you that I am not?"
"You have been showing me that you can not always out-plan, the otherperson. That is a lack, but it is not fatal. Are you great enough to runfast and far when it is a straight-away race depending only upon mereman-strength and indomitable determination?"
Her words fired him curiously. He recalled the little thrill ofinspiration which a somewhat similar appeal from Elinor had once givenhim, and tried to compare the two sensations. There was no comparison. Theone was a call to moral victory; the other to material success. None theless, he decided that the present was the more potent spell, perhaps onlybecause it was the present.
"Try me," he said impulsively.
"If I do ... David, no man can serve two masters--or two mistresses. If Ido, will you agree to put the sentimental affair resolutely in thebackground?"
He took his head in his hands and was a long minute making up his mind.But his refusal was blunt enough when it came.
"No; at least, not until they are married."
It would have taken a keener discernment than Kent's or any man's to havefathomed the prompting of her laugh.
"I was only trying you," she said. "Perhaps, if you had said yes I shouldhave deserted you and gone over to the other side."
He got up and went to sit beside her on the pillowed divan.
"Don't try me again, please--not that way. I am only a man."
"I make no promises--not even good ones," she retorted. And then: "Wouldyou like to have your _quo warranto_ blind alley turned into athoroughfare?"
"I believe you can do it if you try," he admitted, brightening a little.
"Maybe I can; or rather maybe I can put you in the way of doing it. Yousay Mr. Meigs is obstinate, and the governor is likely to prove still moreobstinate. Have you thought of any way of softening them?"
"You know I haven't. It's a stark impossibility from my point of view."
"Nothing is impossible; it is always a question of ways and means." Then,suddenly: "Have you been paying any attention to the development of theBelmount oil field?"
"Enough to know that it is a big thing; the biggest since the Pennsylvaniadiscoveries, according to all accounts."
"And the people of the State are enthusiastic about it, thinking that nowthe long tyranny of the oil monopoly will be broken?"
"That is the way most of the newspapers talk, and there seems to be somelittle ground for it, granting the powers of the new law."
She laid the tips of her fingers on his arm and knotted the thread ofsuggestion in a single sentence.
"In the present state of affairs--with the People's Party as yet on trial,and the public mind ready to take fire at the merest hint of a foreigncapitalistic monopoly in the State--tell me what would happen to the manwho would let the Universal Oil Company into the Belmount field indefiance of the new trust and corporation law?"
"By Jove!" Kent exclaimed, sitting up as if the shapely hand had given hima buffet. "It would ruin him politically, world without end! Tell me; isBucks going to do that?"
She lau
ghed softly.
"That is for you to find out, Mr. David Kent; not by hearsay, but in good,solid terms of fact that will appeal to a level-headed, conservativenewspaper editor like--well, like Mr. Hildreth, of the _Argus_, let ussay. Are you big enough to do it?"
"I am desperate enough to try," was the slow-spoken answer.
"And when you have the weapon in your hands; when you have found the swordand sharpened it?"
"Then I can go to his Excellency and tell him what will happen if hedoesn't instruct his attorney-general in the _quo warranto_ affair."
"That will probably suffice to save your railroad--and Miss Brentwood'smarriage portion. But after, David; what will you do afterward?"
"I'll go on fighting the devil with fire until I have burned him out. Ifthis is to be a government of dictators, I can be one of them, too."
She clapped her hands enthusiastically.
"There spoke the man David Kent; the man I have been trying to discoverdeep down under the rubbish of ill-temper and hesitancy and--yes, I willsay it--of sentiment. Have you learned your lesson, David mine?"
It was a mark of another change in him that he rose and stood over her,and that his voice was cool and dispassionate when he said:
"If I have, it is because I have you for an inspired text-book, Portiadear."
And with that he took his leave.
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