by Rex Beach
XXIV
GORDON'S FALL
The news of O'Neil's attitude spread quickly, and excitement grew amongthe workmen. Up through the chill darkness of early evening they camecharging. They were noisy and eager, and when the gong summoned them tosupper they rushed the mess-house in boisterous good humor. No attemptwas made to call out the night crew: by tacit consent its members wereallowed to mingle freely with their fellows and plan for the morrow'sdeparture. Some, envious of the crowd from Omar which had profited byan early start, were anxious to be gone at once, but the moresober-minded argued that the road to White River was so long that aday's advantage would mean little in the end, and the advance partywould merely serve to break trail for those behind.
These men, be it said, were not those who had struck, earlier in theseason, at the behest of Gordon's emissary, Linn, but fellows whoseloyalty and industry were unquestioned. Their refusal to stampede atthe first news was proof of their devotion, yet any one who has livedin a mining community knows that no loyalty of employee to employer isstrong enough to withstand for long the feverish excitement of a goldrush. These bridge-workers were the aristocracy of the whole force, meninured to hardship and capable of extreme sacrifice in the course oftheir work; but they were also independent Americans who believedthemselves entitled to every reward which fortune laid in their paths.For this reason they were even harder to handle than the unskilled,unimaginative men farther down the line.
Long before the hour when O'Neil appeared the low-roofed mess-house wascrowded.
Natalie and Eliza, knowing the importance of this crisis, refused to gohome, and begged Murray to let them attend the meeting. Mr. Blaine, whoalso felt the keenest concern in the outcome, offered to escort them,and at last with some difficulty he managed to wedge them inside thedoor, where they apprehensively scanned the gathering.
It was not an ideal place for a meeting of this size, but tables andbenches had been pushed aside, and into the space thus cleared the menwere packed. Their appearance was hardly reassuring: it was a brawny,heavy-muscled army with which O'Neil had to deal--an army ofloud-voiced toilers whose ways were violent and whose passions werequick. Nevertheless, the two girls were treated with the greatestrespect, and when O'Neil stepped to a bench and raised himself abovetheir heads his welcome was not unduly boisterous. Outside, the nightwas clear and cold; inside the cramped quarters the air was hot andclose and fetid.
Murray had no skill as a public speaker in the ordinary sense; heattempted no oratorical tricks, and addressed his workmen in amatter-of-fact tone.
"Boys," he began, "there has been a gold strike at the head of theWhite River, and you want to go. I don't blame you; I'd like to gomyself, if there's any chance to make money."
"You're all right, boss!" shouted some one; and a general laughattested the crowd's relief at this acceptance of the inevitable. Theyhad expected argument, despite the contrary assurances they hadreceived.
"Now we all want an even break. We want to know all there is to know,so that a few fellows won't have the advantage of the rest. The strikeis three hundred miles away; it's winter, and--you know what thatmeans. I talked with Baker and Thorn this afternoon. I want them totell you just what they told me. That's why I called this meeting. Ifyou decide to go you won't have to waste time going to Omar after youroutfits, for I'll sell you what you want from my supplies. And I'llsell at cost."
There was a yell of approval, a cheer for the speaker; then came callsfor Baker and Thorn.
The two miners were thrust forward, and the embarrassed Thorn, who hadacted as spokesman, was boosted to a table. Under Murray'sencouragement he stammered out the story of his good fortune, the talerunning straight enough to fan excitement into a blaze. There was nodisposition to doubt, for news of this sort is only too sure ofcredence.
When the speaker had finished, O'Neil inquired:
"Are you an experienced quartz-miner? Do you know ore when you see it?"
"Sure! I worked in the Jumbo, at Goldfield, Nevada, up to last year. Sodid Baker."
"When did you go into the White River country?"
"August."
"How did you go in?"
"We packed in. When our grub ran out, we killed our horses and cachedthe meat for dog-feed."
"Is there any other dog-feed there?"
"No, sir."
"Any people?"
"Not a soul. The country is open to the first comers. It's afine-looking country, too: we seen quartz indications everywhere. Ireckon this speaks for itself." Thorn significantly held up his oresamples. "We've made our locations. You fellows is welcome to the rest.First come, first served."
There was an eager scramble for the specimens on the part of thosenearest the speaker. After a moment Murray asked them:
"Did you fellows ever see any rock like that?"
One of his workmen answered:
"_I_ have."
"Where?"
"In the Jumbo, at Goldfield. I 'high-graded' there in the early days."
There was a laugh at this. Thorn flushed angrily. "Well," he rejoined,"we've got the same formation over there in the White River. It's justlike Goldfield. It'll be the same kind of a camp, too, when the newsgets out."
O'Neil broke in smoothly, to say:
"Most of our fellows have no dogs. It will take them three weeks tocover the trail. They'll have to spend three weeks in there, then threeweeks more coming out--over two months altogether. They can't haulenough grub to do them." He turned to his employees and said gravely:"You'd better think it over, boys. Those who have teams can make it butthe rest of you will get left. Do you think the chance is worth allthat work and suffering?"
The bridge-workers shifted uncomfortably on their feet. Then a voiceexclaimed:
"Don't worry, boss. We'll make it somehow."
"Thorn says there's nobody over there," Murray continued; "but thatseems strange, for I happen to know of half a dozen outfits at the headof the White River. Jack Dalton has had a gang working there for fouryears."
Dalton was a famous character in the north--one of the most intrepid ofthe early pioneers--and the mention of his name brought a hush. A largepart of the audience realized the truth of O'Neil's last statement, yetresented having it thrust upon them. Thorn and Baker were scowling.Gray had just entered the room and was signaling to his chief, andO'Neil realized that he must score a triumph quickly if he wished tohold the attention of his men. He resumed gravely:
"If this strike was genuine I wouldn't argue, but--it isn't." Aconfusion of startled protests rose; the two miners burst outindignantly; but O'Neil, raising his voice for the first time, managedto make himself heard. "Those jewelry samples came from Nevada," hecried. "I recognized them myself this afternoon, and here's anotherfellow who can't be fooled. Thorn told you he used to work inGoldfield. You can draw your own conclusions."
The temper of the crowd changed instantly: jeers, groans, hisses arose;the men were on their feet now, and growing noisier every moment; Bakerand Thorn were glaring balefully at their accuser. But Gray succeededin shouldering his way forward, and whispered to O'Neil, who turnedsuddenly and faced the men again. "Just a minute!" he shouted. "Youheard Thorn say he and Baker went prospecting in August. Well, we'vejust had Cortez on the cable and learn that they were working forGordon until two weeks ago." A sudden silence fell. Murray smiled downat the two strangers. "What do you say to that?"
Thorn flew into a purple rage: "It's a damned lie! He's afraid you'llquit work, fellows." Viciously he flung himself toward the door, onlyto feel the grasp of the muscular physician upon his arm.
"Listen to this message from the cashier of the Cortez Home Bank!"bellowed Gray, his big voice dominating the uproar. Undisturbed by hisprisoner's struggles, he read loudly:
"Joe Thorn and Henry Baker quit work fifteenth, leaving for Fairbanksover winter trail, with five dogs--four gray and white malamutes, blackshepherd leader. Thorn medium size, thirty-five, red hair. Baker dark,scar on cheek. WILSON, Cashier."
The crowd's allegiance had been quick to shift, but it veered back toO'Neil with equal suddenness.
"Bunco!" yelled a hoarse voice, after a brief hush.
"Lynch 'em!" cried another; and the angry clamor burst forth anew.
"Don't be foolish," shouted Murray; "nobody has been hurt."
"We'd have been on the trail to-morrow. Send 'em down the riverbarefoot!"
"Yes! What about that gang from Omar?"
"I'm afraid they'll have to take care of themselves," O'Neil said. "Butthese two men aren't altogether to blame; they're acting under orders.Isn't that right?" he asked Thorn.
The miner hesitated, until the grip in his hair tightened; then,evidently fearing the menace in the faces on every side, he decided toseek protection in a complete confession.
"Yes!" he agreed, sullenly. "Gordon cooked it up. It's all a fake."
O'Neil nodded with satisfaction. "This is the second time he's tried toget my men away from me. The other time he failed because Tom Slaterhappened to come down with smallpox. Thank God, he recovered!"
A ripple of laughter spread, then grew into a bellow, for the nature of"Happy Tom's" illness had long since become a source of generalmerriment, and O'Neil's timely reference served to divert the crowd. Italso destroyed most of its resentment.
"You fellows don't seem able to protect yourselves; so Doc and I willhave to do it for you. Now listen," he continued, more gravely. "Imeant it when I said I'd open the commissary and help you out if thestrike were genuine, but, nevertheless, I want you to know just what itwould have meant to me. I haven't enough money to complete the S. R. &N., and I can't raise enough, but I have signed an option to sell theroad if the bridge is built by next spring. It's really a two year'sjob, and some engineers don't believe it can be built at all, but Iknow it can if you'll help. If we fail I'm ruined; if we succeed"--hewaved his hands and smiled at them cheerfully--"maybe we'll buildanother railroad somewhere. That's what this stampede meant. Now, willyou stick to me?"
The answer roared from a hundred throats: "You bet we'll stick!"
At the rear of the room, whence they had witnessed the rapid unfoldingof this drama, the two girls joined in the shout. They were huggingeach other and laughing hysterically.
"He handled them just right," said Blaine, with shining eyes; "justright--but I was worried."
Walsh, the night foreman, raised his voice to inquire:
"Does anybody want to buy a dog-team cheap?"
"Who wants dogs now?" jeered some one.
"Give 'em to Baker and Thorn!"
O'Neil was still speaking in all earnestness.
"Boys," he said; "we have a big job on our hands. It means fast work,long hours, and little sleep. We picked you fellows out because we knewyou were the very best bridge-workers in the world. Now the life of theS. R. & N. lies with you, and that bridge MUST BE BUILT on time. Aboutthese two men who tried to stampede us: I think it's enough punishmentif we laugh at them. Don't you?" He smiled down at Thorn, who scowled,then grinned reluctantly and nodded his head.
When general good feeling was restored Murray attempted to make his wayout; but his men seemed determined to thank him one by one, and he wasdelayed through a long process of hand-shaking. It pleased him to seethat they understood from what hardships and disappointments he hadsaved them, and he was doubly grateful when Walsh rounded up his crewand announced that the night shift would resume work at midnight.
He escaped at last, leaving the men grouped contentedly about huge pansof smoking doughnuts and pots of coffee, which the cook-boys hadbrought in. Liquor was taboo in the camp, but he gave orders thatunlimited cigars be distributed.
When he reached his quarters he was completely fagged, for the crisis,coming on top of his many responsibilities, had taken all his vitality.
His once cheerless room was warm and cozy as he entered: he foundNatalie sleeping peacefully on his bed and Eliza curled up in his bigchair waiting. She opened her eyes drowsily and smiled up at him,saying:
"You were splendid, Omar Khayyam. I'm SO glad."
He laid a finger on his lips and glanced at the sleeping Natalie.
"Sh-h!"
"Where are you going to put us for the night?"
"Right here, of course."
"Those men will do anything for you now. I--I think I'd die, too, ifanything happened to the bridge."
He took her hand in his and smiled down into her earnest eyes a littlewearily. "Nothing will happen. Now go to bed--and thank you for makinga home for me. It really is a home now. I'll appreciate it to-morrow."
He tiptoed out and tramped over to Parker's quarters for the night.
The news of the White River fiasco reached Curtis Gordon in Seattle,whither he had gone in a final attempt to bolster up the totteringfortunes of the Cortez Home Railway. His disappointment was keen, yetO'Neil from the beginning had met his attacks with such uniform successthat new failure did not really surprise him; it had been a forlornhope at best. Strangely enough, he had begun to lose something of hisassurance of late. Although he maintained his outward appearance ofconfidence with all his old skill, within himself he felt a growinguneasiness, a lurking doubt of his abilities. Outwardly there wasreason enough for discouragement, for, while his co-operative railroadscheme had begun brilliantly, its initial success had not beensustained. As time passed and Eliza Appleton's exposure remainedunrefuted he had found it ever more difficult to enlist support. Hisown denials and explanations seemed powerless to affect the publicmind, and as he looked back he dated his decline from the appearance ofher first article. It had done all the mischief he had feared. Not onlywere his old stock-holders dissatisfied, but wherever he went for aidhe found a disconcerting lack of response, a half-veiled skepticismthat was maddening.
Yet his immediate business worries were not all, nor the worst of histroubles: his physical powers were waning. To all appearances he was asstrong as ever, but a strange bodily lassitude hampered him; he tiredeasily, and against this handicap he was forced to strugglecontinually. He had never rightly valued his amazing equipment ofenergy until now, when some subtle ailment had begun to sap it. Thechange was less in his muscular strength than in his nerves and hismental vigor. He found himself growing peculiarly irritable; hisfailures excited spasms of blind fury which left him weak and spent; hebegan to suffer the depressing tortures of insomnia. At times thenerves in his face and neck twitched unaccountably, and thisdistressing affection spread.
These symptoms had first manifested themselves after his unmercifuldrubbing at the hands of Dan Appleton: but they were not the result ofany injury; they were due to some deeper cause. When he had recoveredhis senses, after the departure of Dan and Natalie, he had fallen intoa paroxysm of anger that lasted for days; he had raged and stormed likea madman, for, to say nothing of other humiliations, he prided himselfextravagantly on his physical prowess. While the marks of the roughtreatment he had suffered were disappearing he remained indoors,plunged in such abysmal fury that neither Gloria nor the fawning Dennydared approach him. The very force of his emotions had permanentlydisturbed his poise, or perhaps effected some obscure lesion in hisbrain. Even when he showed himself again in public he was stillabnormally choleric. His fits of passion became almost apoplectic intheir violence; they caused his associates to shun him as a mandangerous, and in his calmer moments he thought of them with alarm. Hehad tried to regain his nervous control, but without success, and hiswife's anxiety only chafed him further. Gradually he lost his mentalbuoyancy, and for the first time in his life he really yielded topessimism. He found he could no longer attack a problem with hisaccustomed certainty of conquering it, but was haunted by a forebodingof inevitable failure. All in all, when he reached the States on hiscritical mission he knew that he was fa
r from being his old self, andhe had deteriorated more than he knew.
A week or two of disappointments should have shown him the futility offurther effort; at any other time it would have set him to putting hishouse in order for the final crash, but now it merely enraged him. Heredoubled his activity, launching a new campaign of publicity soextravagant and ill-timed as to repel the assistance he needed. He hadlost his finesse; his nicely adjusted financial sense had gone.
The outcome was not long delayed; it came in the form of a newspaperdespatch to the effect that his Cortez bank had suspended paymentbecause of a run started by the dissatisfied employees of the railroad.Through Gordon's flamboyant advertising his enterprises were so wellknown by this time that the story was featured despite his efforts tokill it. His frantic cables to Cortez for a denial only broughtassurances that the report was true and that conditions would not mendunless a shipment of currency was immediately forthcoming.
Harassed by reporters, driven on by the need for a show of action, heset out to raise the money, but the support he had hoped for failed himwhen it transpired that his bank's assets consisted mainly of realestate at boom prices and stock in his various companies which had beeninflated to the bursting-point. Days passed, a week or more; then hewas compelled to relinquish his option on the steamship line he hadpartly purchased, and to sacrifice all that had been paid in on theenterprise. This, too, made a big story for the newspapers, for itpunctured one of the most imposing corporations in the famous "GordonSystem." It likewise threatened to involve the others in the generalcrash. Hope Consolidated, indeed, still remained, and Gordon'sdeclaration that the value of its shares was more than sufficient toprotect his bank met with some credence until, swift upon the heels ofthe other disasters, came an application for a receiver by thestock-holders, coupled with the promise of a rigorous investigationinto his various financial manipulations. Then at last Gordonacknowledged defeat.
Ruin had come swiftly; the diversity of his interests made hissituation the more hopeless, for so cunningly had he interlocked onewith another that to separate them promised to be an endless task.
He still kept up a fairly successful pretense of confidence, andpublicly he promised to bring order out of chaos, but in secret he gaveway to the blackest despair. Heretofore, failure had never affected himdeeply, for he had always managed to escape with advantage to hispocket and without serious damage to his prestige, but out of thepresent difficulty he could find no way. His office force stopped work,frightened at his bearing; the bellboys of his hotel brought to thedesk tales of such maniacal violence that he was requested to move.
At last the citizens of Cortez, who up to this time had been like puttyin his fingers, realized their betrayal and turned against him.Creditors attached the railway property, certain violent-tempered menprayed openly and earnestly to their gods for his return to Alaska inorder that they might exact satisfaction in frontier fashion. Easterninvestors in Hope Consolidated appeared in Seattle: there was talk ofcriminal procedure.
Bewildered as he was, half crazed with anxiety, Gordon knew that theavalanche had not only wrecked his fortunes, but was bearing himswiftly toward the penitentiary. Its gates yawned to welcome him, andhe felt a chilling terror such as he had never known.
One evening as Captain Johnny Brennan stood on the dock superintendingthe final loading of a cargo for the S. R. & N. he was accosted by atall, nervous man with shifting eyes and twitching lips. It was hard torecognize in this pitiable shaken creature the once resplendent Gordon,who had bent the whole northland to his ends. Some tantalizing demonsinside the man's frame were jerking at his sinews. Fear was in hisroving glance; he stammered; he plucked at the little captain's sleevelike a frightened woman. The open-hearted Irishman was touched.
"Yes," said Johnny, after listening for a time. "I'll take you with me,and they won't catch you, either."
Gordon chattered: "I'll pay you well, handsomely. I'm a rich man. Ihave interests that demand attention, so--accept this money. Please!Keep it all, my good fellow."
Brennan stared at the bundle Gordon had thrust into his hand, thenregarded the speaker curiously.
"Man dear," he said, "this isn't money. These are stock certificates."
"Eh? Stock? Well, there's money in stocks, big money, if you know howto handle them." The promoter's wandering eye shifted to the line ofstevedores trundling their trucks into the hold, then up to the cranewith its straining burden of bridge material. Every package wasstenciled with his rival's name, but he exclaimed:
"Bravo, Captain! We'll be up to the summit by Christmas. 'No graft! Noincompetence! The utmost publicity in corporate affairs!'--that's ourplatform. We're destined for a glorious success. Glorious success!"
"Go aboard and lie down," Brennan said, gently. "You need a goodsleep." Then, calling a steward, he ordered, "Show Mr. Gordon to mycabin and give him what he wants."
He watched the tall figure stumble up the gang-plank, and shook hishead:
"'The utmost publicity,' is it? Well, it's you that's getting it now.And to think that you're the man with the mines and the railroads andthe widow! I'm afraid you'll be in irons when she sees you, but--that'sas good a finish as you deserve, after all."