Shadow Mountain

by Dane Coolidge

  CHAPTER XXIII

  ON DEMAND

  If there was anything left of his mill but the frame, Wiley's ears hadplayed him false; and yet he stood and looked after Virginia. Thisgrinding crash, this pandemonium of destruction which had left him sickwith fear, had put joy into her dancing feet. Yes, she had danced--likea child that hears good news or runs to meet its father--and he hadthought her worthy of his love! He had battered his brain for weeks todevise some plan whereby he could make his peace; he had taken her blowslike a dog; and she had answered with this. Whether it was Stiff NeckGeorge or some other man, she had known both his presence and hispurpose; and now she rejoiced in the catastrophe. A hundred dollarswould buy him a squaw more worthy of confidence and love.

  There was darkness in the mill, but when they brought the flares,Wiley saw that the ruin was complete. From the rock breaker to theconcentrators there was nothing but splintered wood, twisted iron andupturned tanks; and the demon of destruction which had raged downthrough its length was nothing but the fly-wheel of the rock crusher.What power had uprooted it he was at a loss to conjecture but, a fullton in weight, it had jumped from its frame and plowed its way downthrough the mill. The ore-bins were intact, for the fly-wheel hadoverleapt them, but tables and tanks and concentrating jigs wereutterly smashed and ruined. Even the wall of the mill had given waybefore it and the cold light of dawn crept in through a jaggedaperture that marked its resistless course. The fly-wheel was gone andthe damage was done; but there was still, of course, the post mortem.What had caused that massive shafting, with its ponderous speedingwheels, to leap from its bearings and go crashing down the descent,laying everything before it in ruins? Wiley summoned his engineer and,in the shattered jaws of the rock-breaker, they found theinnocent-looking instrument of destruction. It was not a stick ofdynamite, but a heavy steel sledge-hammer that had been cast into thejaws of the crusher. They had closed down upon it, the hammer hadresisted, and then all the momentum of that whirling double fly-wheelhad been brought to bear against it. Yet the hammer could not becrushed and, as the wheel had applied its weight, the resistance toits force had caused it to leap from its bearings and go hurtling downthe incline.

  It was a very complete job, even better than dynamiting, and yet Wileydid not blame it on Stiff Neck George. Some miner, some millman, who hadseen it done before, had repeated the performance for his benefit. Orwas it, perhaps, for Virginia's? He remembered the engineer who had fedhis greasy overalls into the gearings of the hoist. He had boarded withVirginia and had waved her a parting kiss--but this time it would besome trammer. Wiley gave them all their time on general principles, buthe did not go down to witness the farewell. Whether the trammer kissedher good-by or simply kissed her hand was immaterial to him now--and, incase it might have been a millman or some miner underground, he laid offthe whole night shift. The night-watchman went too, and the stage thefollowing evening brought out a cook to start up the boarding-house.

  Wiley did not guess it--he knew it--Virginia Huff was the witch who hadmixed the hell-broth that had raised up all this treachery against him.She had poisoned his men's minds and incited them to vandalism, but itwould not happen again. He had been a fool to endure it so long; but shecould starve now, for all that he cared. If she thought she could twisthim like a ring around her finger while she egged on these men to wreckhis mill, she had one more guess coming and then she would be right, forhe had come to his senses at last. This was not the Virginia that he hadknown and loved--the Virginia he had played with in his youth--but awarped and embittered Virginia, a waspish, heartless vixen who had neverbeen anything but cold. She had worked him deliberately, resorting towoman's wiles to gain what was not her due, and now when his mill wassmashed into kindling wood, she danced and laughed for joy.

  What kind of a mind could a woman have, to do such a senseless thing andthen laugh at the man who had helped her? She was kind to her cats, theneighbors all liked her, to everyone else she seemed human; but when itcame to him she was a devil of hate, a fiend of ruthless cunning. Shewould tell him to his face--at three in the morning, when he had caughther running away from the mill--that she hoped his old mill would beruined. And now, when the trammer or some other soft-head had sent oneof his sledges through the crusher, she was laughing up her sleeve. Butthere was a hereafter coming for Virginia and her mother and they wouldget no more favors from him. If they crept to his feet and said theywere starving he would tell them to get out and hustle. Meanwhile theyhad sent him broke.

  There would be no more ore concentrated in the Paymaster mill duringthe life of his bond and lease; and unless he could raise some money,and raise it quick, he was due to lose his mine. Whether he hadabetted it or not, Blount would not fail to take advantage of thislast, staggering blow to his fortunes; and there were notes and paperdue which would easily serve as a pretext for a writ of attachment onhis mine. Bad news travels fast, but Wiley set out to beat it bysnatching at his one remaining chance. His mill was ruined, his outputwas stopped, but he still had the ore underground--and the buyers werecrazy to get it. He sent out identical messages to ten big consumersand then sat down to await the results. They came with a rush, tenscrambling frantic bids for his total output for one year--and one ofthem was for eighty-four dollars! It was from the biggest buyer ofthem all, a man who was reputed to be the representative of a foreigngovernment, a man who had paid cash on the nail. Wiley pondered awhile, looked up his obligations to Blount, and accepted immediatelyby wire. But there was one proviso--he demanded an advance payment,which the buyer promptly wired to his bank. Then Wiley twisted up hislip and waited.

  Blount appeared the next day, dropping in casually as was his wont; butthere was a cold, killing look in his eye and he had a deputy sheriff asa witness. They looked through the mill and Blount asked several leadingquestions before he ventured to come to the point, but at last hecleared his throat and spoke up.

  "Well, Wiley," he said, drawing some papers from his pocket, "I'm sorry,but I'll have to call your notes. If it were my money it would bedifferent; but I'm a banker, you understand, and your paper is longoverdue. I've extended it before because I admired your courage andthought you might possibly pull through, but this accident to your millhas impaired the property and I can't let it run any longer."

  "Oh, that's all right," said Wiley, "but you don't need to apologize,because there won't be any attachments and judgments. Just tell me howmuch it comes to and I'll write you out a check." He took the notes fromBlount's palsied hand and spread them on the desk before him, but as hewas jotting down the totals Blount grabbed them wildly away.

  "Not much!" he exclaimed, "I don't surrender those notes until the moneyis put in my hands! Your check isn't worth a pen stroke!"

  "Well, I don't know," returned Wiley. "There may be two opinions aboutthat. I had a hunch, Mr. Blount, that you might spring something likethis and so I made arrangements to accommodate you."

  "But you're strapped! You owe everybody!" cried Blount in a passion. "Idon't believe you've got a cent!"

  "Just a minute," said Wiley, and took down his telephone. "Hello," hecalled, "get me the First National Bank." He waited then, twiddlinghis pencil placidly, while Blount's great neck swelled out with venom."I figure," went on Wiley, as he waited for the connection, "that Iowe you twenty-two thousand dollars, with interest amounting totwo-eighty-three, sixty-one. Here's your check, all filled out, andwhen I get the bank you can ask the cashier if it's good."

  "But, Wiley--," began Blount.

  "Hello! Hello! Is this the First National? This is Holman, out at thePaymaster. Mr. Blount is here and, as I'm closing my account withhim----"

  "No! No!" cried Blount in a panic, but Wiley went on with his talk.

  "Yes," he said, "the check is for twenty-two thousand, two eighty-three,sixty-one. Will you please set that amount aside to meet the payment onthis check? All right, Mr. Blount, here's the bank."

  He held out the instrument and Blount seized it roughly, for he hadheard of fak
e telephone messages before, but when he listened herecognized the voice.

  "Oh, Agnew?" he hailed, smiling genially at the 'phone. "Well, sorryto have troubled you, I'm sure. Oh, yes, yes; I know Wiley is allright; he's good with us for twenty thousand more. No, never mind thecertification; we may let the matter drop. Yes, thank you verymuch--good-by!"

  He hung up the receiver and turned to Wiley; but the cold, killing lookwas gone.

  "Wiley," he chuckled, slapping him heartily on the back, "you certainlyhave put one over. It isn't every day that I find a man waiting with thecheck all made out to a cent; and somehow--well, I hate to take themoney."

  "Yes, I know how you suffer," replied Wiley, grimly, "but let's get theagony over." He held out the check and Blount accepted it reluctantly,passing over the notes with a sigh.

  But for the trifling detail that "demand" had not been waived Blountcould have gone into court without even asking for his money and securedan attachment against the property. But Wiley's firm insistence that allcut-throat clauses should be omitted had compelled Blount to demandpayment on the notes; and then, by some process which still remained amystery, he had raised the full amount to meet the payment. And so oncemore, after going to all the trouble of bringing a deputy sheriff along,Blount found himself balked and his dreams of judgment and lienpermanently banished to the limbo of lost hopes.

  Wiley's over-prompt payment had confused Blount for the moment andthrown him into a panic. He had counted confidently upon crushing himat a blow and cutting short his inimical activities, but now of asudden he found himself threatened with the loss of all his interests.If Wiley had made profits beyond his calculations--but no, he couldnot, for under the terms of their bond and lease one-tenth of the netprofit on all his shipments was sent direct to Blount. And if whatWiley had received was only ten times the Company's royalty, he wasstill in debt to someone. Blount had followed him closely and he knewthat his expenses had absorbed all his profits, up to date. Butperhaps--and Blount paused--perhaps the other bank, or some outsideparties, were backing him in his enterprise. He would have to lookthat matter up--first. But if not--if he was still running his mine ashe had from the first, on his nerve and his diamond ring--then therewere ways and means which should be speedily invoked to prevent himfrom meeting his payments.

  Scarcely a month remained before the bond and lease lapsed--and Wiley'soption on Blount's personal stock--but any day he might raise the moneyand, by taking over Blount's stock, place him out of the running forgood. These tungsten buyers who were so avid for its product mightpurchase an interest in the mine; they might advance the fifty thousandand take it over under the bond and lease, and bring all his plans tonaught. As Blount paced about the office he suddenly saw himselfdefrauded of that which he had worked for for years. He saw his stockbought up first, to deprive him of the royalties, and then the minesnatched from his hands; and all he would have left would be theforfeited Huff stock and the small payment it would earn from the sale.Something would have to be done, and done every minute, to prevent himfrom carrying out his purpose.

  Blount paused in his nervous pacing and held out a flabby hand to Wiley,who was writing away at his desk.

  "Well, Wiley," he said, "I guess I must be going. But any time you needmoney----" He stopped and smiled amiably, in the soft, easy way he hadwhen he wished to appear harmless as a dove, and Wiley glanced upbriefly from his work.

  "Yes, thank you, Mr. Blount," he said. But he did not take his hand.