King Spruce Part 54

These were the sort of men that Wade had seen a year before in the general rooms of "Castle Cut 'Em." They were independent operators and stumpage-buyers, who had responded to the messengers and letters that Wade had been sending out.

There were more of them who joined the party at the railroad; others came into the train as it stopped here and there on the way to the junction. All of them seemed impressed by that sense of gloom and apprehension; there was not a sanguine face.

But in their unanimity of dolorousness they displayed a further interesting characteristic. They seemed entirely ready to accept this young man as their leader and their champion; in fact, as he went among them, they confessed that they had come along only because he had a.s.sured them that he would bear the brunt of the approaching conflict.

The experience of years had shown them that they had no one man or combination of men among themselves who could go up against King Spruce.

They even distrusted each other's honesty, for every man realized all the iniquity of the game of graft and grab that had characterized their dealings with each other and with the main power in the past.

That they should let this new-comer lead them was because he had already proved his mettle and his fearlessness, and the whole north country knew it. He had beaten Pulaski Britt at his own game, he had defied King Spruce, and now he was willing to beard the tyrant in his own castle, and only asked their presence at his back in order that the sight of them might prove his a.s.sertions and aid to win some grace for all of them.

Therefore, they had answered his appeal and had gone with him. But they went without alacrity, and were encouraged only by the despondent belief that at least matters could not be made any worse.

CHAPTER x.x.x

THE PACT WITH KING SPRUCE

"We 'lowed he was caught, and we never thought we'd see Mike any more; But he took and he kicked a bubble up, and he rode all safe to sh.o.r.e."

--The "Best White-water Man."

So it came about that once more, after a year had pa.s.sed, Dwight Wade walked up the hill towards "Castle Cut 'Em," where the sunlight shimmered upon grim walls. The mills along the ca.n.a.l screamed at him as he pa.s.sed. His fancy detected derision in the squall of the saws.

A score of men plodded along with him--broad-backed, silent men who, now that they were under the frown of King Spruce's citadel, muttered their forebodings to one another. Resentment and desperation had left their hearts open to the young man's appeal when he urged a union against the tyrant. But now their reluctance hinted that their determination was built on some very shifty sands. He remembered the man who had declaimed a year before so stoutly, and had been turned aside from his purpose by a few words whispered in a corner.

And so it was without high hopes that Wade led the way into the broad stairway to the castle. He wished that the men would pound down their feet on those stairs so that King Spruce would know that they were coming as bold and honest men should come. But his little army tiptoed up, their heavy boots creaking as do the boots of decorous mourners at a funeral.

When he opened the door of the big general room his face did not show that he was disheartened. He had determined not to come to John Barrett as a mere pet.i.tioner. He was no longer allowing hope to soften the bitter business of demanding.

He saw the situation more plainly now than he saw it when he had bidden farewell to Elva Barrett in Pogey Notch. There could be no hope of truce between himself and John Barrett. By winning the love of John Barrett's daughter, by possessing himself of the secret of John Barrett's shame, he realized that he had committed offences that the pride of Barrett could not pardon. He had followed this by striking the first blow against the autocracy of King Spruce in the north country, and he was now appearing before King Spruce's high chamberlain as the leader of the rebels whom his deed had spurred to rebellion.

In spite of his great love for Elva Barrett, he felt a sense of exaltation because he had the power to put that love behind him in his dealings with the man he had resolved to fight. It was a relief to convince himself now that Barrett was his implacable foe. Any other belief would have made him less courageous.

And when John Barrett, at sound of the tramp of many feet in the outer room, opened the door of his private office and stood framed there, Dwight Wade welcomed the spectacle of his antagonist. Barrett's face was saturnine when he surveyed the group.

"I do not understand this, Mr. Wade," he said. "You and I arranged a conference. But there was no arrangement for a general hearing."

"The question of conditions on the Umcolcus is a question that takes in all of us who operate there, Mr. Barrett," said Wade. "I'm present to answer to matters that can be charged to my individual responsibility, but the interests of all of us have a bearing on that responsibility, and we are here to have a fair understanding."

Barrett stepped back, and motioned the young man to enter the private office.

"If you have come to speak for these men," he said, "you may step in here, and we will see if we can arrange to have the directors meet them later."

"Well, Mr. Wade," he remarked, when they were alone, "so you have become a magnate in the north country in strictly record time!"

"Sarcasm won't help us any in settling this matter!" cried the young man, warmly. "I can understand very well, Mr. Barrett, how you from your position look down on me in mine. But I have at least become some sort of a business man, and I--"

"You have become an almighty good business man," declared the land baron, with such a ring of sincerity in his voice that the young man stared at him in sudden astonishment, "and in a little while we will talk business."

"That is all I'm here to talk," said Wade, the red coming into his cheeks.

When he had left the group of the lumbermen he noticed that some of them bent lowering looks upon him. They had seen other men invited apart and bought from their purpose. Wade wondered if the Honorable John Davis Barrett was not about to trade amnesty on the Blunder dam charge for betrayal of the men who had come at his back to "Castle Cut 'Em."

Then a sense of shame at such suspicion came to him, as John Barrett began to speak:

"Mr. Wade," said he, "you are more of a chap in every way than you were the last time you were in this office, but--you are still young." From that moment the older man had the advantage. And yet Barrett was not calm. He sat down at his desk, and tossed his papers as he talked. His gaze wavered. His jowls hung heavy and flabby. The marks of his prostrating illness had not left him. But in the gloom of his face there was depression that did not arise from physical causes. Barrett's bitter experience had drawn its black cloud around him. He pulled out the shelf of his desk, set his elbows upon it as though to steady his nerves, and faced Wade.

"Young man," he began, "the way the world looks at those things--from the stand-point of some one who hasn't been through the fire--I can afford to look down on you from my height as a moneyed man, and as something more in this State. An outsider might think so. But, by ----, you are the one that can look down on me, for you are square and clean!"

He would not allow Wade to interrupt.

"I haven't called you in here to buy or bulldoze you. There is a matter between us that hasn't been settled. I made you a promise on Jerusalem Mountain that I didn't keep. I had excuses that seemed good to me then.

They don't look that way now. They didn't look good to me when I got off my sick-bed at Castonia. Did Rodburd Ide tell you anything about my talk with the girl?"

"He told me, Mr. Barrett."

The magnate plunged on desperately.

"I don't think you're dull, Mr. Wade, but you can't understand what it meant to me when my child turned on me, spat in my face, and left me. It wasn't merely the bitterness of that one moment--the blistering memory of it goes to sleep with me and wakes up with me. It's with me in every look my daughter Elva gives me, though the poor child tries to hide from me that her old faith and trust have left her. I'm not going to whine, young man, but I'm in h.e.l.l--in h.e.l.l!"

His voice broke weakly. Then there was silence in the room. Wade heard only the yell of the distant saws and the shuffle of the woodsmen's feet as they paced the big reception-hall of King Spruce.

Between the two men there was too much understanding for empty words of sympathy.

"Lane is dead," blurted the millionaire, at last. "What will become of the girl?"

"MacLeod is to marry her. She nursed him through his sickness at Castonia; they love each other very sincerely, Mr. Barrett, and you need have no trouble about her future. Neither of them will ever trouble you; in fact, MacLeod asked me to say as much for him."

Barrett was silent a long time, his gaze on the floor. He looked up at last, and his eyes shone as though a comforting thought had come to him.

"There's one thing I can do. I've got money enough to make them independent for life. Be my agent in that, Mr. Wade, and--"

"I have another message from MacLeod. I have grown to know the man pretty well, and you'd best take my advice. He says it will be dangerous business for any man to put out a hand to him with anything in it."

"You mean they won't take a fortune when I am ready to hand it to them?"

"I mean it, Mr. Barrett. There are strange notions among some of the folks of the big woods. Your money is of no use. I advise you frankly not to offer it. At any rate, I'll not insult MacLeod by being your messenger."

The timber magnate whirled his chair and gazed away from Wade, looking into the depths of his big steel vault.

At the end of a few minutes Wade spoke to him, but he did not reply.

When the young man accosted him again, after a decent pause, Barrett spoke over his shoulder without turning his face.

"The directors and myself will meet your party in the board-room across the hall in half an hour, Mr. Wade."

It was not the voice of John Barrett. It was the thin, quavering tone of a man who was mourning, and wished to be left alone.