CHAPTER VI
THE ROAD TO TOTAL WRECK
"How's my pony?" said Young Van. "You haven't told me."
"I shot him."
"Not yours too? Didn't I see you riding Texas this morning? I--I'm alittle hazy about what I have and haven't seen these days."
"Yes; Texas pulled through. He's hitched on just behind us."
The wagon train, with every barrel full, was drawing slowly toward Mr.Carhart's camp. Young Van and Carhart were riding on the leadingwagon, and the former was gazing off dejectedly to the horizon, wherehe could see a few moving black specks and the gray-yellow line of thegrade. "I don't know what you'll think of me, Mr. Carhart," he said,after a time. "I don't seem to be good for much when it comes to realwork."
"Better forget about it, Gus," the chief replied. "I'm going to. Thisisn't railroad building."
The long line of wagons wound into camp, and Carhart made it his firstbusiness to get his assistant undressed and comfortably settled on hiscot. It would be a day or so before the young man would be able toresume his work. Then Carhart stepped out, walked part way down theknoll, and looked about him, and became conscious of an unusual stirabout the job. Peering out through dusty spectacles, he saw that aparty of strangers were coming up the slope toward him.
At the head walked Old Van, in boiled shirt and city clothes, with atall man in frock coat and top hat whom Carhart recognized asVice-president Chambers. After them came a party of ladies and one ortwo young men to whom Tiffany was explaining the methods ofconstruction. It seemed that Mr. Chambers had thought it worth whileto adopt Tiffany's suggestion that the vast quantities of dry bones inthe desert be gathered up and shipped eastward to be ground up intofertilizer.
Carhart was presented to Mrs. Chambers and to the two Misses Chambersand the other young women. He took them in with a glance, then lookeddown over his own outrageously attired person and restrained a smile.Tiffany was the one he wished to see, and he told him so with a barelyperceptible motion of the head.
Tiffany caught the signal, made his excuses, and walked off with thisdusty, inconspicuous man on whose shoulders rested the welfare of thewhole Sherman and Western system. He had observed that the young womendrew instinctively away from the dingy figure, and his smile was notrestrained. He was thinking of his first meeting with Paul Carhart, inChicago,--it was at the farewell dinner to the Dutch engineers,--andof his distinguished appearance as he rose to speak, and of hisdelightfully humorous enumeration of the qualities required in anAmerican engineer. Thinking of these things he almost spoke aloud:"And they never knew the difference,--not a blessed one of 'em! EvenMrs. Chambers don't know a gentleman without he's tagged. Ain't itfunny!" And the chief engineer of the S. & W., being a blunt, and notat all a subtle man, wisely gave up the eternal question.
"Look here, Tiffany," Carhart began, "something's going to happen tothis man Peet."
Tiffany plucked a straw from a convenient bale, and began meditativelyto chew it. "I haven't got a word to say, Carhart. You've got a clearcase against us, and I guess I can't object if you take it out of me."
"No; I understand the thing pretty well, Tiffany. You're doing whatyou can, but Peet isn't."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Perfectly."
"He's having the devil's own time himself, Carhart. The mills aregoing back on us steady with the rails. They just naturally don't ship'em. I'm beginning to think they don't want to ship 'em."
Carhart stopped short, plunged in thought. "Maybe you're right," hesaid after a moment. "I hadn't thought of that before."
"No, you oughtn't to have to think of it. That's our business, butit's been worrying us considerable. Then there's the connections, too.The rails have to come into Sherman by way of the Queen andCumberland,--a long way 'round--"
"And the Queen and Cumberland has 'Commodore Durfee' written all overit."
"Yes, I guess it has."
"And knowing that, you fellows have been sitting around waiting forthe Commodore to deliver your material. No, Tiffany, don't tell methat; I hate to think it of you."
"I know we're a pack of fools, Carhart, but--" the sentence died out."But what can we do, man? We can't draw a new map of the UnitedStates, can we? We've got our orders from the old man--!"
"'Look here, Tiffany,' Carhart began, 'something'sgoing to happen to this man Peet.'"]
"Could you have the stuff sent around by the Coast and Crescent, andtransferred over to Sherman by wagon?"
"Wait a minute; who owns the Coast and Crescent? Who's got it allbuttoned up in his pants pocket?"
"Oh," said Carhart. They stood for a little while, then sat down on apile of culls which had been brought up by the tie squad forsupporting tent floors. "It begins to occur to me," Carhart went on,"that we are working under the nerviest president that ever--Butperhaps he can't help it. He's fixed pretty much as Washington was inthe New Jersey campaign; he's surrounded by the enemy and he's got tofight out."
"That's it, exactly," cried Tiffany. "He's got to cut his way out. Heain't a practical railroad man, and he's just ordered us to do it forhim. Don't you see our fix?"
"Yes," Carhart mused, "I see well enough. Look here, Tiffany; how farcan I go in this business,--extra expenses, and that sort of things?"
Tiffany's face became very expressive. "Well," he said, "I guess ifyou can beat the H. D. & W. to Red Hills there won't be any questionsasked. If you can't beat 'em, we'll all catch hell. Why, what are youthinking of doing?"
"Not a thing. My mind's a blank."
From Tiffany's expression it was plain that he was uncertain whetherto believe this or not.
"It comes to about this," Carhart went on. "It all rests on me, and ifI'm willing to run chances, I might as well run 'em."
Tiffany's eyes were searching the lean, spectacled face. "I guess it'sfor you to decide," he replied. "I don't know what else Mr. Chamberswas thinking of when he the same as told me to leave you be."
"By the way, Tiffany,"--Carhart was going through his pockets,--"howlong is it since you people left Sherman?"
"More than a week. Mr. Chambers wanted some shooting on the way out."
"Do you suppose he knows about this?" And Carhart produced the tornsheet of the _Pierrepont Enterprise_.
Tiffany read the headlines, and slowly shook his head. "I'm sure hedon't. There was no such story around Sherman when we left. But wefound a message waiting here to-day, asking Mr. Chambers to hurryback; very likely it's about this."
"If it were true, if Commodore Durfee does own the line, what effectwould it have on my work here?"
"Not a bit! Not a d--n bit!" Tiffany's big hand came down on his kneewith a bang. "This line belongs to Daniel De Reamer, and Old Durfee'sthievery and low tricks and kept judges don't go at Sherman, or hereneither. It's jugglery, the whole business; there ain't anythinghonest about it." Carhart looked away, and again restrained a smile;he was thinking of where the money came from. "And I'll tell youthis," Tiffany concluded, "if anybody comes into my office and triesto take possession for Old Durfee, I'll say, 'Hold on, my friend, whosigned that paper you've got there?' And if I find it ain't signed byfive judges--_five_, mind!--of the Supreme Court of the United Statessittin' in Washington, I'll say, 'Get out of here!' And if they won'tget out, I'll kick 'em out. And there's five hundred men in Sherman, athousand men, who'll help me to do it. If it's court business, I guessour judges are as good as theirs. And if it comes to shooting, by Godwe'll shoot!"
"I agree with you, on the whole," said Carhart. "Mr. De Reamer and Mr.Chambers have put me here to beat the H. D. & W. to Red Hills, and I'mgoing to do it. But--"
"That's the talk, man!"
"But let's get back to Peet. He could help us a little if he felt likeit. You told me last month, Tiffany, that Peet had given you a listof the numbers of all my supply cars, with an understanding that theywouldn't be used for anything else. Have you got that list with you?"
"No; it's in my desk, at Sherman."
"All
right. I'll call for it day after to-morrow."
"At Sherman?"
"Yes. Peet isn't sending those cars out here, and I'm going to findout where he is sending them."
"There's one thing, Carhart," said Tiffany, as they rose, "I'm surePeet don't know how bad off you were for water. He was holding up thetrains for material."
"He ought to understand, Tiffany. I wired him to send the wateranyway."
"I know. But that would be wholesale murder. He didn't realize--"
"I'm going to undertake the job of making him realize, Tiffany."
The whistle of the vice-president's special engine was tooting as theystarted back. On the one hand, as far as human beings could bedistinguished with the naked eye, the groups and the long lines oflaborers were shuffling to and from their work on the grade; thepicked men of the iron squad, muscular, deep chested, were workingside by side with the Mexicans and the negroes, as also were thespikers and strappers and the men of the tie squad. On the other hand,the ladies of the vice-president's party were picking their waydaintily back toward Mr. Chambers's private car, where savory odorsand a white-clad chef awaited them.
Carhart had time only to wash his face and hands before rejoining theparty at the car steps. His clothing was downright disreputable, andhe wanted the physique, the height and breadth and muscle display,which alone can give distinction to rough garments. Even his clean-cutface and reserved, studious expression were not positive features, andcould hardly triumph over the obvious facts of his dress. Mrs.Chambers and the young women again glanced toward him, and again theyhad nothing to say to him. To the truth that this ugly, noisy scenewas a resolving dissonance in the harmony of things, that this roughperson in spectacles was heroically forging a link in the world'sgirdle, these women were blind. They had been curious to come; and nowthat they were here and were conscious of the dirtiness and meannessof the hundreds of men about them, now that the gray hopelessness ofthe desert was getting on their nerves, they were eager to go back.And so the bell rang, the driving-wheels spun around, slipping underthe coughing engine, the car began to rumble forward, the ladiesbowed, the vice-president, taking a last look at things from the rearplatform, nodded a good-by, and the incident was closed.
* * * * *
There were a number of things for Carhart to attend to after he hadeaten supper and dressed, and before he could get away,--some of whichwill have to find a place in a later chapter,--and it was eleveno'clock at night when he finally put aside his maps and reports. Hethen wrote a note to Scribner, telling the engineer of the seconddivision that the last report of his pile inspector was notsatisfactory,--the third bent in the trestle over Tiffany Hollow on"mile fifty-two" showed insufficient resistance. He left for YoungVan's attention a pile of letters with memoranda for the replies. Hesent for Old Van, and went over with him the condition of the work onthe first division. And finally he wrote the following letter to JohnFlint:--
DEAR JOHN: I'm sending forward to-morrow the extra cable and the wheelers you asked for. I have to run back to Sherman to-night, possibly for a week or so, but there'll be time enough to look over your plans for cutting and filling on the west bank when I get back. I haven't figured it out yet, but I'm inclined to agree with you that we can make more of a fill there. But I'll write you again about it.
Thanks to our friend Peet I nearly killed Texas on a ride for water. Got to have another riding horse sent out here. My assistant's pony had to be shot--that little brown beauty I pointed out to you the morning you started, with the white star.
Yours,
P. C.
P. S. By the way, that Wall-street fight was only the opening skirmish. The Commodore is raiding S. & W. for business. I guess you know how he does these things. The _Pierrepont Enterprise_ says he has already got control of the board, so it will probably be our turn next. If you haven't plenty of weapons, you'd better order what you need at Red Hills right away. And don't forget that you're working for Daniel De Reamer.
P. C.
He folded the letter, slipped it into an envelope, addressed it, andthen tipped back and ran his long fingers through his hair. He wassurprised to find that his forehead was beaded with sweat. "Lovelyclimate, this," he said to himself; adding after a moment, "Now whathave I forgotten?" For several minutes he balanced there, supportinghimself by resting the fingers of one hand against a tall caselabelled, "A B C Spool Cotton," in the flat, glass-fronted drawers ofwhich he kept his maps and papers. Finally he muttered, "Well, if Ihave forgotten anything, I've forgotten it for good," and the frontlegs of his chair came down, and he reached across the table for hishat.
But instead of rising, he lingered, fingering the wide hat-brim. Theyellow lamplight fell gently on his face, now leaner than ever. "Iwonder what they think a man is made of," thought he. "Nothing veryvaluable, I guess, from what an engineer gets paid. I'm in the wrongbusiness. It's my sort of man who does the work, and it's thespeculators and that sort who get the money,--God help 'em!" Again hemade as if to rise, and again he paused. "Oh!" he said, "of course,that was it." He clapped his hat on the back of his head, reached outfor a letter which he had that evening written to Mrs. Carhart, openedthe envelope, and added these words:--
"Have Thomas Nelson plant the nasturtiums along the back fence. There isn't enough sunshine out in front for anything but the honeysuckle and the Dutchman's pipe. And he'd better screen the fence with golden glow, set out pretty thick the whole way, between the nasturtiums and the fence. The crab-apple tree will be in the way, but it's so near dead that he'd better cut it down. I like your other arrangements first rate."
This, and a few other east-bound letters, he put in his handbag. Thenhe looked at his watch. "Hello!" said he, "it's to-morrow morning." Hepulled his hat forward, took up the lamp, and stepped out through thetent opening, holding the lamp high and looking down, through thenight, toward the track.
The silence, in spite of a throbbing locomotive, or perhaps because ofit, was almost overwhelming. There was not a cloud in the sky; thestars were twinkling down.
"How horribly patient it is," he thought. "We're slap bang up againstthe Almighty."
"Toot! Too-oo-oot!" came from the throbbing locomotive.
"All right, sir!" he muttered. "Be with you in a minute."
He went back into the tent, put down the lamp, picked up his handbag,took a last look around, and then blew out the lamp and set off downthe slope to the track.
The engineer was hanging out of his cab. "All ready, Mr. Carhart?"
"All ready, Bill." The chief caught the hand-rail of _his_ privatecar, tossed his bag to the platform, and swung himself up after it.
"You was in something of a hurry, Mr. Carhart?"
"In a little of a hurry, yes, Bill."
They started off, rocking and bumping over the new track, and Carhartbegan stripping off his clothes. "It isn't exactly like Mr.Chambers's," he said, "but I guess I'll be able to get in a littlesleep; that is, if Bill doesn't smash me up, or jolt me to death."
* * * * *
Three days later, at five o'clock in the afternoon, Carhart waswriting a letter in the office of the "Eagle House," at Sherman.Sitting in rows along three sides of the room was perhaps a score ofmen, and in a corner by herself sat one young woman. The men were amixed assortment,--locomotive engineers, photographers, travellingsalesmen of tobacco, jewellery, shoes, clothing, and small cutlery,not to speak of an itinerant dentist and a team of "champion banjo andvocal artists." As for the young woman, if you could have taken a peepinto the sample case at her feet, you would have learned that she wasprepared to disseminate a collection of literature which ranged fromstandard sets of Dickens and Thackeray to a fat volume devoted to thesongs and scenes of Old Ireland, an illustrated life of the Pope, anda work on the character and the splendid career of Porfirio Diaz.Outside, at the window, st
ood or sat another score of men, each ofwhom bore the unmistakable dress and manner of the day laborer. Andevery pair of eyes, within and without the smoky room, was fixed onthe back of the man who was writing a letter at the table in thecorner.
But Carhart's mind was wholly occupied with the work before him. Hewas travel-stained,--it was not yet an hour since he had come in fromCrockett, the nearest division town on the H. D. & W.,--but there werefew signs of weariness on his face, and none at all in his eyes. "Howmuch had I better tell him?" he was asking himself. "I wonder what heis up to, anyway? Possibly he has an interest in the lumber company,or maybe Durfee's men have bought him up." For several minutes his penoccupied itself with dotting out a design on the blotter; thensuddenly a twinkle came into his eyes, and he wrote rapidly asfollows:--
DEAR MR. PEET: I beg to enclose herewith a list of the cars which were assigned to me at the beginning of the construction work. I am sure you will agree with me that I can spare none of these cars, least of all to supply a rival line. And in consideration of your future hearty cooperation with me in advancing this construction work, I will gladly take pains to see that my present knowledge of the use that has been made of these cars shall not interfere in any way with your continued enjoyment of your position with the Sherman and Western.
Yours very truly,
P. CARHART.
He folded the letter, then opened it and read it over. "Yes," he toldhimself, "it's better to write it. Seeing the thing before him inblack and white may have a stimulating effect." He found in his pocketthe worn and thumbed list of cars, enclosed it in his letter,addressed an envelope, and looked around. At once he was beset by theagents and the applicants for work, but he shoved through to thepiazza, and called a boy.
"Here, son," he said, "do you know Mr. Peet, of the railroad?"
The boy nodded.
"Take this letter to him. If he isn't in his office, go to his house,but don't come back until you have found him."
"Will there be any answer?"
"No--no answer. Don't give the letter to anybody but Mr. Peet himself.When you have done that, come to me and get a quarter."
The boy started off, and Carhart reentered the building, slipped pastthe office door, and walked up two flights of stairs to his room.
"And now," thought he, "I guess a bath will feel about as good asanything."
The Eagle House did not boast a bathroom, and so he set about thebusiness in the primitive fashion to which he had learned to adapthimself. He dragged in from the hall a tin, high-backed tub, calleddown the stairway to the proprietor's wife for hot water, and,undressing, piled his clothes on the one wooden chair in the room,taking care that they touched neither floor nor wall. The hostessknocked, and left a steaming pitcher outside the door. And soon thechief engineer of the Red Hills extension of the Shaky and Windy wassplashing merrily.
The water proved so refreshing that he lingered in it, leaningcomfortably back and hanging his legs over the edge of the tub. And aswas always the case, when he had a respite from details, his mindbegan roving over the broader problems of the work. "I've done a partof it," he said to himself, "but not enough. It won't do any good tohave the cars if we haven't the materials to put in 'em." He had beenabsently pursuing the soap around the bottom of the tub, had caughtit, and was now sloping his hands into the water, and letting the cakeslide back into its element.
There was a knock at the door. Carhart looked up with half a start.
"Well, what is it?"
"It's me, sir," came from the hall.
"Who's me?"
"The boy that took your letter."
"Well, what about it? There was no answer."
"But there _is_ an answer, Mr. Carhart. Mr. Peet came back with me."
"What's that?"
"He's here--he came back with me. He's waiting downstairs."
Carhart hesitated. "Well--tell him that I'm very sorry, but I can'tsee him. I'm taking a bath."
"All right," said the boy; and Carhart heard him go off down thestairs.
For some little time longer he sat in the tub. His mind slipped againinto the accustomed channel. "If it does come to warfare," he wasthinking, "the first thing they'll do will be to cut me off from mybase. They'd know that I shall be near enough to Red Hills to get foodthrough from there by wagon,--that's what I should have to do,--butthere won't be any rails coming from Red Hills. I'm afraid--very muchafraid--that Durfee has got us, cold. That's the whole trick. If he'sgoing to seize the S. & W., he'll cut me off first thing. There's fiveto six hundred miles of track between the job and Sherman. It wouldtake an army to guard it. And that much done, he'd be in a positionto take his time about completing the H. D. & W. to Red Hills."
And then suddenly he got out of the tub, snatched up a towel, and,half dry, began hurriedly to draw on his clothes. A moment later athin, spectacled, collarless man darted out of a room on the thirdfloor of the Eagle House, looked quickly up and down the hall, ranhalfway down the stairs, and leaned over the balustrade.
"Boy," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"You didn't get your quarter." But it was a half dollar that he tossedinto the waiting hands. "Run after Mr. Peet and bring him back here.Mind you catch him."
The boy started to obey, but in a moment he was back and knocking atCarhart's door. "He's down in the office now, Mr. Carhart. He didn'tgo at all."
"He didn't, eh?" The engineer was standing before the cracked mirror,brushing his hair. "All right, I'll be down in a minute. Hold onthere!" He stepped to the door. The first coin his fingers encounteredin his pocket was another half dollar. He took it out without glancingat it and handed it to the now bewildered boy. Then he returned to themirror and brushed his hair again, and put on his collar and tie."I'll have to thank Tiffany," ran his thoughts. "It's odd how thatcar-stealing story has stuck in my head. I'm glad he told it."
Peet's expression was not what might be termed complacent. He wasstanding on the piazza when he heard Carhart's quick step on thestairs. His teeth were closed tightly on a cigar, but he was notsmoking.
"How are you, Mr. Peet?" said the engineer. Peet looked nervouslyabout and behind him, and then faced around. "Look here, Mr. Carhart,I want to tell you that you haven't got that straight--"
"Where's Tiffany?" said Carhart.
At this interruption Peet turned, if anything, a shade redder. "He'sgone home."
"Let's find him. Would you mind walking over there?"
"Certainly not," Peet replied; and for a moment they walked insilence. Then the superintendent broke out again. "You didn'tunderstand about those cars, Mr. Carhart. I know--the boys have toldme--that you've thought some hard things about me--" He paused:perhaps he had better keep his mouth shut.
As for Carhart, he was striding easily along, the hint of a smileplaying about the corners of his mouth. "I think I understand thesituation pretty well, Peet," he said. "I was a little stirred up whenmy men began to go thirsty, but that's all past, and I'm going to dropit. I guess we both understand that this construction is the mostimportant thing Mr. De Reamer has on hand these days. And if we'regoing to carry him through, we'll have to pull together."
They found Tiffany, coat thrown aside, hat tipped back, weeding hisgarden.
"Come in--glad to see you," he said, only half concealing hiscuriosity over the spectacle of Carhart and Peet walking together inamity. "Didn't succeed in getting back, eh, Carhart?"
"Not yet, Tiffany. I had to run up to Crockett." He said this in anoffhand manner, and he did not look at Peet; but he knew from theexpression on Tiffany's face that the superintendent was turning redagain.
"You ain't had supper, have you?" said Tiffany. "You're just in timeto eat with us."
"Supper!" Carhart repeated the word in some surprise, then looked athis watch.
"You hadn't forgotten it, had you?" Tiffany grinned.
"To tell the truth, I had. May we really eat with you? It will save ussome time."
> "Can you? Well, I wonder! Come in." And taking up his coat, Tiffanyled the way into the house.
More than once during that meal did Tiffany's eyes flit from Peet'shalf-bewildered countenance to that of the quiet, good-naturedCarhart. He asked no questions, but he wondered. Once he thought thatPeet threw him an inquiring glance, but he could not be certain. Aftersupper, as he reached for the toothpicks and pushed back his chair, hewas tempted to come out with the question which was on his mind, "Whatin the devil are you up to, Carhart?" But what he really said was,"Help yourselves to the cigars, boys. They're in that jar, there."
And then, for a moment, both Peet and Tiffany sat back and watchedCarhart while he lighted his cigar, turned it over thoughtfully, shookthe match, and dropped it with a little sputter into his coffee cup.Then the man who was building the Red Hills extension got, with somedeliberation, to his feet, and turned toward Tiffany. "Would it spoilyour smoke to take it while we walk?" he asked.
"Not at all," replied the host. "Where are we going?"
"To the yards."
Peet, for no reason whatever, went red again; and Tiffany, tipped backin his chair and slowly puffing at his cigar, looked at him. Then hetoo got up, and the three men left the house together. And during allthe walk out to the freight depot, Carhart talked about the newsaddle-horse he had bought at Crockett.
The freight yard at Sherman extended nearly a mile, beginning with thesiding by the depot and expanding farther on to the width of a dozentracks. Carhart came to a halt at the point where the tangle ofswitches began, and looked about him. Everywhere he saw cars, someladen, some empty. A fussy little engine was coughing down the track,whistling angrily at a sow and her litter of spotted, muddy-yellowpigs which had been sleeping in a row between the rails. From theroundhouse, off to the left, arose the smoke of five or six restinglocomotives. Nearer at hand, seated in a row on the handle of theturn-table, were as many black negroes, laughing and showing theirteeth and eyeballs, and discussing with much gesticulation and someamiable heat the question of the day. Carhart's sweeping glance tookin the scene, then his interest centred on the cars.
Peet fidgeted. "There ain't any of your cars here, Mr. Carhart," hesaid uneasily.
Already Carhart knew better, but he was not here to squabble withPeet. "How many have you here all together?" he asked; and after amoment of rapid counting he answered his own question: "Something morethan a hundred, eh?"
"Yes, but--"
"Well, what?"
"Look here, Carhart, I don't know what you've got in mind, but I can'tlet you have any of these cars."
"You can't?"
"Not possibly. Half of 'em are foreign as it is. I'm so short now Idon't know what I'm going to do. Honest, I don't."
Carhart turned this answer over in his mind. After a moment he lookedup, first at Peet, then at Tiffany, as if he had something to say; butwhatever it may have been, he turned away without saying it.
"What is it, old man?" cried Tiffany, at last. "What can we do foryou, anyway?"
Still Carhart did not speak. His eyes again sought the long lines ofcars. Finally, resting one foot on a projecting cross-tie, he turnedto the superintendent. "Suppose you do this, Peet," he said, speakingslowly; "suppose you tell your yard-master that I am to be absoluteboss here until midnight. Then you go home and leave me here. Tiffanycould stay and help me out--this isn't his department."
This brought Peet close to the outer limit of bewilderment. "Whatin--" he began; but Carhart, observing the effect of his request,interrupted.
"I don't believe Mr. Peet understands the situation very well,Tiffany. Tell him where we stand--where Mr. De Reamer stands." Andwith this he walked off a little way.
Tiffany came to the point. To Peet's question, "What is he talkingabout, Tiffany?" the veteran replied: "He knows and I know, Lou, thatthe only thing that will save the old man is a track to Red Hills. Ihaven't the slightest idea what Carhart's up to, but I'll tell youthis, I've seen him in one or two tight places, and I never saw himlook like this before. He's got something he wants to do, and he'sdecided that it's necessary, and it ain't for you and me to stand inhis way. When you come to know Paul Carhart, you'll learn that hedon't do things careless. What do you suppose the Old Man meant whenhe told you to back him up to the limit with cars and engines, andtold me to keep out of his way?"
Peet did not reply for a moment. He took off his hat and brushed backthe hair from a forehead that was moist with sweat. He looked fromone man to the other, and from both to the roundhouse, and the depot,and the waiting cars. Finally he walked over toward Carhart. "Goahead," he said queerly, "I'll stay with you."
"Good enough." And with these two words Carhart wheeled around andsurveyed the nearest line of cars--box, flat, and gondola. "Most ofthose are empty, aren't they?" he asked.
"About half of them. But here's Dougherty, the yard-master. Dougherty,this is Mr. Carhart. You can take your orders from him to-night."
Carhart extended his hand. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Dougherty. I'mafraid we'll all have to make a night of it. I want you to keep steamup in three engines. And pick up all the men you can find and startthem unloading every car in the yard. Keep 'em jumping. I want to havethree empty trains at Paradise by midnight."
"By mid--" Dougherty's mouth opened a very little, and his eyes, aftertaking in Paul Carhart's face and figure, settled on thesuperintendent.
But Peet, with an expressive movement of his hands, turned away; andTiffany, after a glance about the little group, went after him.
"Brace up, Lou," said Tiffany, in a low voice; "brace up."
Peet's hands were deep in his pockets. His eyes were fixed on therails before him. "Dump all that freight on the ground!" he moaned."Look here, Tiffany, I suppose he knows what he's doing, but--butwhat'll the traffic men say!"
"Never you mind the traffic men."
"But--dump all that freight out here _on the ground_!"
Tiffany passed an unsteady hand across his eyes. If Peet had looked athim, he would not have felt reassured; but he did not look up.
Dougherty, with a gulp, obeyed Carhart. And half an hour later thechance observers and the yard loafers were rubbing their eyes.Laborers were busy from one end of the yard to the other, throwing outboxes and bales and crates, and piling them haphazard between thetracks. The tired, wheezy switch engine, enveloped in a cloud of itsown steam, was laboriously making up the first train. And movingquietly about, issuing orders and giving a hand here and there,followed by the disturbed eyes of the general superintendent and thechief engineer of the Shaky and Windy, Paul Carhart was bossing thework. Once he stepped over to the two men of the disturbed eyes, athoughtful expression on his own face. "Say, Tiffany," he asked, "howmuch business does the Paradise Southern do?"
Tiffany started, and looked keenly at Carhart. There was a faintglimmer in his eyes, but this was followed immediately by uncertainty."None," he replied; "that is, none to speak of. They run a combinationcar each way every day--two cars when business is brisk. The Old Manwould have abandoned it years ago if it hadn't been for the stockscheme I told you about."
"Yes," mused Carhart, "that's what I understood. But if it's such amistake, why was it built in the first place?"
"Oh, they were going to run it through to Bonavita on the EmeraldRiver, but the B. & G. got all there was of that business first, andso the P. S. never got beyond Total Wreck. Mr. De Reamer never builtit. The old Shipleigh crowd did that before Mr. De Reamer bought upthis property." The faint glimmer had returned to Tiffany's eyes; hewas searching Carhart's face. "You want these trains sent on throughto your camp, don't you?" he asked abruptly.
"No, they are to go down over the P. S."
Tiffany's expression was growing almost painful. Carhart went on."There are sidings at Total Wreck, aren't there, Peet?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, quite a yard there; but it's badly run down."
"What other sidings are there along the line?"
"Long ones at Yellow House and Dusty Bend.
"
"How long?"
"Nearly two miles each."
"How long is the line?"
"Forty-five miles."
"Good Lord!" The exclamation was Tiffany's. He was staring at Carhartwith an expression of such mingled astonishment, incredulity, andexpansive delight, that Peet's curiosity broke its bounds. "For God'ssake, Tiffany," he cried, "what is it? What's he going to do?"
But Tiffany did not hear. He was gazing at Paul Carhart, sayingincoherent things to him, and bringing down a heavy hand on hisshoulder. He was somewhat frightened--never before, even in his ownemphatic life, had his routine notions received such a wrench--but hiseyes were shining. "Lord! Lord!" he was saying, "but there'll beswearing in Sherman to-morrow."
"The time has come when I ought to know what"--this from the purplePeet.
"Don't ask him, Lou," cried Tiffany, "don't ask him. If we smash, itwon't be your fault. Ain't that right, Paul?"
"Yes," replied Carhart, "it is just right. Don't ask any questions,Peet, and don't give me away. I don't want any swearing in Shermanto-morrow. I don't want a whisper of this to get out for a week--notfor a month if we can keep it under."
Tiffany quieted down; grew thoughtful. "It will take a lot of men,Paul. How can you prevent a leak?"
"I'm going to take them all West with me afterward."
"I see. That's right--that's right! And the station agents and traincrews and switchmen--yes, I see. You'll take 'em all."
"Every man," replied Carhart, quietly.
"If necessary, you'll take 'em under guard."
Carhart smiled a very little. "If necessary," he replied.
"You'll want some good men," mused Tiffany. "I'll tell you,--supposeyou leave that part of it to me. It's now,--let's see,--seven-forty.It won't be any use starting your first train until you've got the mento do the work. I'll need a little time, but if you'll give me an hourand half to two hours, say until nine-thirty, I'll have your outfitready. I'll send some of my assistants along with you, and a bunch ofour brakemen and switchmen. There'll be the commissariat to look outfor too,--you see to all that, Lou, will you?"
Peet inclined his head. "For how many men?" he asked.
"Oh, five hundred, anyway, before we get through with it." Nothingcould surprise the superintendent now. He merely nodded.
"And rifles," Tiffany added. "You'll want a case of 'em."
"No," said Carhart, "I shan't need any rifles for the P. S., but Iwant five hundred more at the end of the track, and, say ten thousandrounds of ball cartridges. Will you see to that, Peet?"
The superintendent grunted out, "Who's paying for all this?" and thenas neither of the others took the trouble to reply, he subsided.
"All right, then," said Tiffany. "I'll have your crew here--enough forthe first train, anyhow. You can trust to picking up fifty or ahundred laborers in the neighborhood of Paradise. See you later." Andwith this, the chief engineer took his big person away at a rapidwalk.
Carhart turned to Peet and extended his hand. Dusk was falling. Theheadlights of the locomotives threw their yellow beams up the yard.Switch lights were shining red and white, and lanterns, in the handsof shadowy figures, were bobbing here and there. There was a greatracket about them of bumping cars and squeaking brakes, and ofshouting and the blowing off of locomotives. "I don't blame you forthinking that everything's going to the devil, Peet," said Carhart."But I don't believe they've let you in on the situation. If I'mrunning risks, it's because we've got to run risks."
Peet hesitated, then accepted the proffered hand. "I suppose it's allright," he replied. "Tiffany seems to agree with you, and he generallyknows what he's about. But--" he paused. They were standing by a heapof merchandise. The heap was capped by a dozen crates of chickenswhich, awakened from their sleep, were fluttering about within theirnarrow coop and clucking angrily. He waved his hand. "Think of whatthis means to our business," he said.
Carhart listened for a moment, then looked back to Peet. "If I weresure it would come to nothing worse than a slight disarrangement ofyour business, I'd sleep easy to-night."
"It's as bad as that, is it?"
"Yes," Carhart replied, "it's as bad as that. If I lose, no matterhow the fight in the board turns out, you know what it will mean--nomore De Reamer and Chambers men on the S. & W. Every De Reamer firemanand brakeman will go. It'll be a long vacation for the bunch of you."
Peet was silent. And then, standing there where he had so often and soheedlessly stood before, his sordid, moderately capable mind was tornunexpectedly loose from its well-worn grooves and thrown out to drifton a tossing sea of emotion and of romantic adventure. Thebreathlessness of the scene was borne in on his consciousness on awave that almost took away his breath. Carhart was the sort of manwhom he could not understand at all. He knew this now, or somethingnear enough to it, clear down to the bottom of his subconscious self.And when he turned and looked at the thin man of the masterful hand,it was with a change of manner. "All right," he said, "go ahead. Justsay what you want me to do."
At five minutes to ten that night a locomotive lay, the steam roaringin clouds through her safety valve, on the siding by the freightdepot; and stretching off behind her was a long string of empties.Carhart, Tiffany, and Peet, walking up alongside the train, coulddistinguish, through the dark, men sitting on brake wheels, orswinging their legs out of box-car doors or standing in groups in thegondola cars. Once, during a brief lull in the noise of the yard, theyheard a gentle snore which was issuing from the dark recesses of oneof the box-cars. The three men halted beside the locomotive.
"You'd better go, Paul," said Tiffany.
Carhart looked at Peet. "I'll rely on you to keep things coming," hesaid.
"Go ahead," replied the superintendent. "I'll have the three trainsand all the men at Paradise before morning."
"And we'll look out for the commissariat too, Paul," added Tiffany.
"All right," said Carhart. "But there's another thing, Peet. Ihaven't cars enough yet. As soon as enough come in to make up anothertrain, send it out to me."
"That'll be sometime to-morrow afternoon, likely," Peet repliedsoberly.
Carhart nodded, shook hands with the two men, and mounted to theengine.
"Go ahead," said Peet. "You've got a clear track."
The whistle blew. Somewhere back in the night a speck of light swungup in a quarter circle. The engineer opened his throttle.
"Bong Voyage to the Paradise Unlimited!" said Tiffany.
* * * * *
Carhart was not surprised, when the third train rolled into Paradiseon that following morning, to see Tiffany descending from the caboose.Between them they lost no time in completing the preparations for thejourney down to Total Wreck. Of the two regular trains on the line,No. 3, southbound, was held at Paradise, and the lone passenger wascarried down on Carhart's train; the northbound train, No. 4, wasstopped at Dusty Bend.
Then for a time a series of remarkable scenes took place along theright of way of the Paradise Southern. Men by the hundred, allseemingly bent on destruction, swarmed over the line and tore it topieces. Trains ran north and west laden with rusty old rails,switches, ancient cross-ties of questionable durability, witheverything, as Carhart had ordered, excepting the sand and clayballast.
"Some poor devils lost their little fortunes in the old P. S." saidTiffany, on the first morning, as the two engineers stood looking atthe work of ruin. "I sort of hate to see it go."
Carhart himself went West on the first train, leaving Tiffany to carrythe work through. He was satisfied that everything would from now onwork smoothly at Paradise and Sherman, and he knew that not a man ofthose on the work would slip through Tiffany's fingers to bear talesback to civilization of the wild doings on the frontier. At Shermanthey said that owing to insufficient business the P. S. trains wouldbe discontinued for a time, and no one was surprised at the news. Faroff in New York, in the Broad Street office of Daniel De Reamer, itwas some time before they knew anyth
ing about it. The little world wasrolling on. Men were clasping hands, buying and selling, knifing andshooting. Durfee's plans were marching forward, as his plans had a wayof doing. De Reamer's mind was coiling and uncoiling in itssubterranean depths. General Carrington was talking about a huntingtrip into the mountains with pack-animals and good company and many,many bottles.
Yes, the world was rolling on about as usual; but the ParadiseSouthern was no more. Forty-five miles of grade, trampled, tie-marked;a few dismantled sheds which had once been known as stations; a lonelyrow of telegraph poles stretching from one bleak horizon to another;a rickety roundhouse or two: this was all that was left of a railroad:this, and a long memory of disaster, and an excited ranchman at TotalWreck who was telegraphing hotly to his lawyer.