CHAPTER XXIV
UNCLE DENNY GETS BUSY
"Coyotes breed only with coyotes. Men talk much of pride of race, yet they will breed with any color."
MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT.
Pen clung to Uncle Denny with a breathless sob. She had not realized howheavy her burden was until Uncle Denny had come to share it.
"Uncle Denny! You didn't answer my telegram and I didn't dare hope youwould get here."
"Where is Jim, Penny, and how is me boy?"
"I'll take you to him now. He has no idea of your coming. Bill, we willwalk. Take the trunk on up to Mr. Manning's house, will you?"
"I was afraid 'twould get out and I knew he'd never stand for me comingout to help. That's why I sent you no word," said Uncle Denny, beginningto puff up the trail beside Pen.
"He's just the same old Jim," said Pen, "but under a terrific strainjust now, of course. You can understand from my letters just how greatthat is."
"And Sara?" asked Uncle Denny.
"Not so well," replied Pen. "He is very quiet, these days. There is thefirst glimpse of the dam, Uncle Denny."
Uncle Denny stopped and wiped the sweat out of his eyes with his silkhandkerchief. He gazed in silence for a moment at the mammothfoundations, over which the workmen ran like ants.
"'Twas but a hole in the ground when I last saw it," he said. "Pen, it'sso big you can't compass it in your mind. And they are pecking at me boywhile he builds mountains!"
"There he is!" exclaimed Pen, pointing to the tower foot.
"It is! It's Still Jim! Is me collar entirely wilted?"
Pen laughed. "Uncle Denny, you're as fussed as a girl at meeting hersweetheart! You look beautiful and you know it. There! He sees us!"
Uncle Denny lost a little of his color and stood still. Jim camestriding down the road. His eyes were black with feeling. Without a wordhe threw his arms around Uncle Dennis and hugged that rotund person offhis feet.
"Still Jim, me boy!" cried Uncle Denny. "I've come out to lick the worldfor ye!"
Jim loosened his bear hug and stepped back. His smile was brilliant.
"Uncle Denny, you look like a tailor's ad! Doesn't he, little Penelope?"
There was something in Jim's voice as he spoke Pen's name that MichaelDennis understood as clearly as if Jim had shouted his feeling for Penin his ear.
"I'm starving to death," he said hastily. "Take me home, Still. Comealong, Pen."
Mrs. Flynn was surveying the trunk as it stood on end in the livingroom. She was talking rapidly to herself and as the three came up on theporch she cried:
"I said 'twas you, Mr. Dennis! I told myself fifty times 'twas yourtrunk and still myself kept contradicting me. You are as handsome as aDonegal dude. Leave me out to the kitchen till I get an early supper!"
After supper Jim and Dennis sat for a short time over their pipes beforeJim left for some office work.
"Tell me what to do first, Still," said Uncle Denny, "and I'll start acampaign against Fleckenstein that'll turn the valley upside down.That's what I came out for. I'll fix them, the jackals!"
"Uncle Denny, it won't do," answered Jim slowly. "The uncle of a Projectengineer can't carry on a political campaign in his behalf. You'd justget me in deeper with the public."
Uncle Denny stared. "But I came out for that very thing."
"I thought you had just come out for one of your usual visits. It won'tdo, dear Uncle Denny. I can't say anything against Fleckenstein nor mustyou."
"Me boy," said Michael Dennis, "all the public sentiment on earth can'tkeep me from fighting Fleckenstein. Pen sent for me and I'm here."
"Pen sent for you?" repeated Jim. "Why, Pen should not have done that."
"This is a poor welcome, Jim," said Uncle Denny, immeasurable reproachin his voice.
Jim sprang to his feet and put a long brown hand on Uncle Denny'sshoulder. "You can't mean that, Uncle Denny. It's meat and drink to meto have you here. You can't doubt it."
"I can't, indeed," agreed Dennis heartily. "And somehow, I'm going tohelp. Go get your work done and then call for me at Pen's house."
Jim had been in the office but a few minutes when he came out again andstood on the edge of the canyon, staring at the silhouette of theElephant against the night stars. After a moment he turned up the trailtoward the tent house. He entered without ceremony and stood a tall,slender, commanding figure against the white of the tent wall. His eyeswere big and bright. His lips were stiff as he looked at Sara and said:
"You are fully even now, Saradokis. I've a notion to kill you as I woulda rattler."
The tent was bright with lamplight. The red and black Navajo acrossSara's cot was as motionless over the outline of his great legs asthough it covered a dead man. Uncle Denny stared at Jim withoutstirring. His florid face paled a little and his bright Irish eyes didnot blink.
Pen could see a tiny patch that Mrs. Flynn had put on the knee of Jim'sriding breeches. There swept over her a sudden appreciation of Jim'sutter simplicity and sincerity under all the stupendous responsibilitieshe had assumed not only in the building of the dam, but in his lesstangible building for the nation. As he stood before them she saw himnot as a man but as the boy Uncle Denny often had described to her,announcing the vast discovery of his life work. Would he, had he knownthe bitter years ahead of him, have chosen the same, she wondered.
"I found two interesting communications in my mail tonight," said Jim,slowly. "One is a letter from the Washington Office containing clippingsfrom eastern papers. Some reporter announces that he has discovered afully developed scheme of mine and Freet's to sell out to theTransatlantic people. He gives a twisted version of the conversationhere, the other night, that sounds like conclusive evidence. The matteris so well handled that even the Washington office is convinced that I'ma crook. The local papers will, of course, copy this."
Sara did not stir. Jim moistened his lips. "While I knew that I livedunder a cloud of suspicion," he said, "I thought to be able to leave theService with nothing worse than suspicion on my name. I shall never beable to live this down. Yet this is not the worst. I received tonight ananonymous letter. It states that unless I drop my silent campaign, thename of the wife of my crippled friend will be coupled with mine in anunpleasant manner."
Pen's eyes were for a moment horror-stricken. Then they blazed withanger. And so suddenly that Jim and Dennis hardly saw her leave herchair. She sprang over to Sara's couch and struck him across the mouthwith her open hand. The stillness in the room for a second was complete,except that Sara breathed heavily as he rose to his elbow.
"I may or may not have produced the newspaper copy, but so help me theGod I have blasphemed, I have never used Pen's name," said Sara.
"But you have," said Jim. "You used it before Freet. You probably havecursed me out before Fleckenstein as you did before him and Ames!"
"And there was my trying to help Jane Ames in the valley!" cried Pensuddenly. "She's talking with the farmers' wives for Jim and I went withher until the women were cattish. Oh, Jim, what have we done to you,Sara and I?"
"I shall have to give up the fight a little earlier, that is all,"answered Jim. "Don't feel badly, Pen. If I only had some way ofpunishing Sara and stopping his mischief! Though it's too late now."
"Just be patient, Jim," said Sara. "My mischief will soon end."
Pen had heard only Jim, the first sentence of Jim's remarks. She stoodbeside the table, white to the lips. "Jim, if you want to wreck my life,stop the fight! Do you suppose, except for the moment's shame, I carewhat they say about me? If you will only go on with your fight, Jim, letthem say what they will. I can stand it. My strength--my strength----"Pen paused with a little sob, as if Uncle Denny reminded her of hergirlhood dreams, "my strength is in the eternal hills!"
"I have lived with George Saradokis all these years," Pen went on, "andhe's almost broken my faith in life. When I found I could help you, Jim,I thought that I was making up for some of the wron
g of my marriage. Ieven thought that I'd be willing to go through my marriage again becauseit had taught me how to help you fight. Jim, it will ruin my life if youstop now!"
And Pen suddenly dropped her face in her hands and broke down entirely.Jim never had seen Pen cry. He took a step toward her, then lookedpitifully at Uncle Denny.
Uncle Denny sprang from his chair.
"Go on out, Jim," he said. Then he folded Pen in his arms. "Rest here,sweet, tired bird," he said in his rich voice. "Rest here, for I loveyou with all me soul."
Jim's lips quivered. He went out into the night and once more climbedthe Elephant's back. For a long time he sat, too exhausted by hisemotions to think. With head resting on his arms, he let the night windsweep across him until little by little his brain cleared and he lookedabout him. Far and wide, the same wonder of the desert night; the stars,so low, so tender, so inscrutable, the sky so deep, so utterlycompassionate; the far black scratch of the river on the silver desert,the distant black lift of the mountains--Pen's eternal hills!
Over the flagpole on the office the flag rippled and floated, sank androse, dancing like a child in the joy of living. Jim looked at itwistfully. Flag that his forefathers had fashioned from the fabric oftheir vision, must the vision be forgotten? It was a great vision, fitto cover the yearnings of the world. His grandfather had fought for itat Antietam. His father had lost it and had died, bewildered and hungryof soul. Was he himself to lose it, son of vision seekers?
The Elephant beneath him seemed to listen for Jim's reply. "God knows,"he said at last, "I would not deny the vision to all the immigrantworld. All I wish is that we who made the vision had kept it and hadtaught it to these others to whom our heritage must go. You can scoff,old Elephant, but the struggle _is_ worth while. You can say thatnothing matters but Time. I tell you that eternity is made up of soulfights like mine and Pen's!"
Suddenly there came to him the fragment that Pen had quoted to him daysbefore:
"What though the field be lost? All is not lost--the unconquerable will, And courage never to submit nor yield; And what is else, not to be overcome!"
Jim suddenly rose with his blood quickened. "Not to be overcome! AndGod, what stakes to fight for! To build my father's dream in stone andto make a valley empire out of the tragedy of a woman's soul!"
With renewed strength Jim went down the trail, crossed the canyon andwent up to his house.
Uncle Denny was waiting for him. It was nearly midnight. He had kindleda fire in the grate and was brewing some tea. "Mrs. Flynn would have ityou'd fallen off a peak but I got her to bed. Have some tea, me boy."
Uncle Denny's voice was cheerful, though his eyes were red. He watchedJim anxiously.
"You should have gone to bed yourself, Uncle Denny. I have a letter towrite, then I'm going to turn in."
Uncle Denny's hand shook as he poured the tea. "I had to see you, Still,because I promised Pen I'd go back over there tonight and tell her whatyour decision was."
Jim caught up his hat. "I'll go!"
But Uncle Denny laid his hand on Jim's arm. "No, me boy. Pen's had allshe can stand tonight. I'll take her your word. What shall it be,Still?"
Jim brought his fist down on the table. "Tell her, with her help, I'llkeep up the fight!"
Uncle Denny's blue eyes blazed. "I'm prouder of the two of you than I amof me Irish name," he said, and, seizing his hat, he hurried out.
While he was gone Jim wrote this note:
"My dear Mr. Secretary:--Some time ago I wrote you that I did not thinkan engineer should be asked to build the dam and at the same time handlethe human problems connected with the Project. Subsequent events lead meto believe that as your letter suggests it is the duty of the governmentto look on these Projects not as engineering problems so much as thebuilding of small democracies that may become the living nuclei for therebirth of all that America once stood for. I do not believe that I ambig enough for such a job, but I am putting up a fight. I have beenasked to resign within a few weeks from now. I think, looking at thematter from the point of view I have just expressed, that I am dismissedwith justice. This letter is to ask you to see that my successor ischosen with the care that you would give to the founder of a colony."
Uncle Denny returned and waited until Jim had finished his letter. Thenhe said:
"Sara spoke just once after you left. He denied any knowledge of theanonymous letter."
"I'm going to put it up to Fleckenstein," said Jim. "The newspaper dope,of course, was Sara's. I can only ignore that except to answer anyquestions the farmers may put to me about it. How is Pen?"
"She cried it out on me shoulder after you left and felt better for thetears. Your message will send her to sleep. Still Jim, if I had a juryof atheists and could put Pen on the stand and make her give herphilosophy as she has sweated it out of her young soul, I could makethem all believe in the eternal God and His mighty plans. To be biggerthan circumstance, that's the acid test for human character."
Jim nodded and looked into the fire. This suggestion that he might bethe instrument of a mighty plan, he and Pen and Uncle Denny, awed him.Uncle Denny eyed the fine drooping brown head for a moment.
"Ah, me boy! Me boy!" he said tenderly. "The old house at Exham is not afutile ruin. 'Tis the cocoon that gave birth to the butterfly wings of agreat hope. Look up, Still! You've friends with you till the end of thefight."
Jim reached for Michael Dennis' hand and held it with both his own,while he said: "Stay with me for a month or two, Uncle Denny. Don't goaway. I need you. I've neither wife nor father and I haven't the gift ofspeech that makes a man friends."
Jim was off the next morning before daylight. Uncle Denny slept late andwhile he was eating his breakfast, the ex-saloonkeeper, Murphy, came in.
"The Big Boss sent me up to spend the day with you, Mr. Dennis. He can'tget back till late in the afternoon. He told me to talk Project politicsto you. My name is Murphy. I'm timekeeper down below, but I've left thejob for a while for reasons of my own."
Uncle Denny pulled a chair out for Murphy and looked at himthoughtfully.
"Do you know this jackal, Fleckenstein?"
"I do. The Boss showed me that letter. I suppose you know how a man likeMr. Manning would take to a fellow like Fleckenstein?"
"Know!" snorted Uncle Denny. "Why, young fellow, I'd know Jim'sdisembodied soul if I met it in an uninhabited desert."
Murphy raised his eyebrows. "You're Irish, I take it."
"You take it right."
"I was born in Dublin myself."
The two men shook hands and Murphy went on. "I told the Boss to forgetthat letter. I know Fleckenstein. I know all his secrets just as I doabout every other man's in the valley. I know their shames and theirbusiness grafts. In fact I know everything but the best side of 'em.I've been in the saloon business in this valley for twenty years, Mr.Dennis."
"Ah!" said Uncle Denny. "I understand now!"
"All I've got to do," said Murphy, "is to drop in on Fleckenstein andmention this letter and suggest that my own information is what youmight call detailed. 'Twill be enough."
"Of course, it might not be Fleckenstein," said Dennis.
"Never mind! My warning will reach the proper party, if I go toFleckenstein," said Murphy. He smacked his lips over the cup of coffeeMrs. Flynn set before him.
"And how came you to be helping the Boss instead of distributing booze?"asked Uncle Denny.
"I was about ready to quit, anyhow," said Murphy. "A man gets sick ofcrooked deals if you give him time. And time was when a man could keep asaloon in this section and still be the leading citizen and his wifecould hold up her head with the banker's wife. That time's gone. I'vebeen thinking for a long time of marrying and settling down. Then theBoss cleaned me out." Murphy chuckled.
"How was that?" asked Dennis. Mrs. Flynn began to clear the table veryslowly.
"Well, this is the way of it," and Murphy told the story of his firstmeeting with Jim. "I've seen him in action, you see," he c
oncluded, "andI'd be sorry for Fleckenstein if he crosses the Boss's path."
"Jim'll never trouble himself to kick the jackal!" said Uncle Denny.
"Huh! You don't know that boy. There was a look in his eye thismorning--God help Fleckenstein if he meets the Big Boss--but he'll avoidthe Boss like poison."
Uncle Denny shook his head. "What kind is Fleckenstein?"
"What kind of a man would be countenancing a letter like that?" ThenMurphy laughed. "The first time I ever saw Fleckenstein he was riding inthe stage that ran west from Cabillo. Bill Evans was driving andFleckenstein got to knocking this country and telling about the realfolks back East. Bill stood it for an hour, then he turned round andsaid: 'Why, damn your soul, we make better men than you in this countryout of binding wire! What do you say to that?' And Fleckenstein shutup."
Uncle Denny chuckled. "Have a cigar? Is Jim making any headway in this'silent campaign' I'm hearing about?"
"Thanks," said Murphy. "Well, he is and he ain't. He's got a greatpersonality and everybody who gets his number will eat sand for him. Hemade a great speech at Cabillo, time of the Hearing. He said the damwas his thumb-print--kind of like the mounds the Injuns left, I guess.People are kind of coupling that speech up now with him when they meethim and they are beginning to have their doubts about his dishonesty.But I don't believe he can get his other idea across on the farmers andrough-necks in time to lick Fleckenstein."
"And what is his other idea?" asked Dennis.
Murphy smoked and stared into space for a time before he answered. "Ican best tell you that by giving you an incident. I went with Ames andthe Boss while he called on a farmer named Marshall. Marshall is abright man and no drinker. He has been loud in his howls about the Bossbeing incompetent and kicking about the farmer having to pay thebuilding charges. Marshall was cleaning his buckboard and the Boss, sortof easy like, picks up a brush and starts to brush the cushion.
"'My father used to make me sweep the chicken coop,' says the Boss. 'Wewere too poor to keep a horse. If I couldn't build a dam better than Iused to sweep that coop, I'd deserve all you folks say about me.'
"He says this so sort of sad like that Marshall can't help laughing, andhe starts in telling how he used to sojer when he was a kid. And oncestarted, with the Boss looking like his heart would melt out of hiseyes, Marshall kept it up till the whole of his life lay before the Bosslike an illustrated Sunday Supplement.
"'You've had great experiences,' says the Boss. 'I've not had muchexperience in dealing with men as you have. I'm wondering if you wouldhelp me get this idea across with the folks round here. I want them tosee this; that America has never made a more magnificent experiment tosee if us folks can handle our own big business and pay a debtcontracted by ourselves. I'd like to see this done, Marshall,' he sayssad like, 'as a sort of last legacy of the New England spirit, for weold New Englanders are going, Marshall, same as the buffalo and theIndian.'
"Something about the way he said it sort of made your eyes sting andMarshall says, rough-like, 'I'll think it over and I'd just as soon tellwhat you said to the neighbors,' Then, while the Boss went up to thehouse to get a drink of water, Marshall says to us, 'He's got a goodshaped head. I wouldn't a made so many fool cracks about him if I'dknown he could be so sort of friendly and decent.'"
During this recital, Mrs. Flynn had drawn near and now with eyes onMurphy she was absently polishing the teaspoons with the dustcloth.
"Why don't you send some of those folks to me?" she cried. "I'd tell 'ema thing or two about the Big Boss. There's a letter over there now onthe desk from the German government, asking him questions and offeringhim a job. Incompetent!"
"How do you know what's in the letter, Mrs. Flynn?" asked Uncle Denny,with a wink at Murphy.
"Because I read it," returned Mrs. Flynn, with shameless candor."Somebody's got to keep track of the respects that's paid that poor boyor nobody'd ever know it. God knows I hate the Dutch, but they know agood man when they hear of one better than the Americans. And I wish youtwo'd get out of here while I set the table for dinner."
The two men laughed and got their hats. "I'll meet you at the officeshortly," said Uncle Denny. "I've a call to make."
Pen was sitting on the doorstep when Uncle Denny came up. She waslooking very tired and her cheeks were flushed. She rose and led himaway from the tent.
"Sara is very sick, Uncle Denny. I've given him some morphine, but he'llbe coming out of it soon. Will you telephone from the office for thedoctor?"
"Is it the same old pain?" asked Dennis.
"Yes, only worse. I--I am to blame, in a way. He has been growing worselately and any excitement is dreadful for him. And then, I struck him,Uncle Denny! I shall never forgive myself for that. And yet, thismorning he laughed at it. He said he never had thought so much of me ashe had for that slap."
Uncle Denny nodded. "He's deserved it a hundred times, Penny! That nevermade him worse. But this is no place for him. When I go back to NewYork, you and he must go with me."
"Yes, I have felt the same way, about the excitement here. We'll go whenyou say, Uncle Denny."
"Is the doctor here a good one?"
"Splendid! A Johns Hopkins man here for his health."
"What else can I do?" asked Uncle Denny. "Shall I come in and sit withhim?"
"No; ask Mrs. Flynn to come over after dinner. You go out and see thedam and be proud of your boy."
"And of me girl," said Uncle Denny. He had been standing with his hat inhis hand and now he bent and kissed Pen's cheek.
"Erin go bragh!" said Pen. "Uncle Denny, I'm tired! I feel as if I wererunning on one cylinder and three punctured tires. I have to talk thatway after my close association with Bill Evans!"
Uncle Denny had a delightful trip over the Project with Murphy. He dinedwith the upper mess so that Mrs. Flynn could devote herself to Pen.After eating, he started down the great road to the tower foot to meetMurphy.
Before he came to the tower, however, he came on a group of men hoveringover the canyon edge. Uncle Denny gave an exclamation of pity. A mulewith a pack on its back had slipped off the road and hung far below bythe rope halter that had caught around a projecting rock. The hombre whohad been driving the mule had gone for ropes.
"See how still he keeps, the old cuss," said Jack Henderson gently. "Ahorse would have kicked himself to death long ago. That mule knows justwhat's holding him. A mule forgets more in a minute than a horse knowsin a year."
Uncle Denny almost wept. The mule pressed his helpless forelegs againstthe wall and except that he panted with fright and that his ears movedback and forth as he listened for his hombre's voice, he was motionless.His liquid eyes were fastened on the group above with an appeal thattouched every man there.
"What can you do for the poor brute!" cried Uncle Denny.
"Wait till the hombre gets back," said Henderson. "If he can hang onthat long, we can save him. Nothing like this happens to a mule veryoften. You can't get a mule to try a trail that isn't wide enough forhis pack. They can reason, the old fools! Bill Evans' auto shoved thisfellow over. The steering gear broke."
At this moment a panting hombre arrived with two coils of rope. The menhastily fastened one rope under the Mexican's arms. He seized the otherand they lowered him into the canyon. He talked to the mule in softSpanish all the way down and the great beast began to answer him withdeep groans. With infinite care, the hombre cut the packs loose and theywent crashing into the river bed. Still the mule did not move. Hisdriver carefully made the rope fast round the mule. The waiting men thendrew the little Mexican up, and when he was safe all hands, includingUncle Denny, drew the mule up. When the big gray reached the road, hetried each leg with a gentle shake, walked over to the inside edge ofthe road and lifted his voice in a bray that shook the heavens.
The men laughed and patted him. "When I was in the Verde river countryone spring, years ago," said Henderson, in his tender, singing voice, "Ihad a mule train up in the hills. They was none of them broke and theywould
n't cross the river till I took off my clothes and swam with 'em,one at a time. It was fearful cold. The water was just melted snow and Iwas some mad. But I finally got all but one across. He was a big graylike this. I was so cold and so hungry and so mad, I tied his head up atree and swam off and left him to die.
"I made camp across the river and two or three times in the night I wokeup and thought of that old gray mule. I was still sore at him, but Imade up my mind I wouldn't go off and leave him to starve to death,that I'd shoot him in the morning. But in the morning I got to lookingat him and I was afraid a shot from across the river would just woundhim. I wouldn't risk my gun again in the water, so I takes off myclothes, takes my knife in my teeth and," Henderson's voice was verysweet as he scratched the mule's ear, "and swims back to cut his throat.When I got up to him I cussed him out good. And I says, 'I'll give youone more chance. Either you swim or I cut your throat.' I untied him andthat old gray walked down to the water's edge and you'd ought to see himhustle in and swim! He'd reasoned out I was a man of my word!"
Jim had come up in time to hear the story and when Henderson hadfinished he said: "I've always claimed it was the mules that built thegovernment dams. What would we have done with our fearful trails anddistance and heavy freight without the mule? Some day when I get time,I'll write a rhapsody on the mule."
The men laughed and made way for the doctor on his horse. But the doctorstopped and spoke very gravely to Uncle Denny.
"Mrs. Saradokis wants you. Her husband is very low."
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