Port O' Gold Part 27

"You never trusted 'Honest Harry,' did you?" Stanley asked.

"No," said Sherman, "not for the amount he asked. I was the only banker here that didn't break his neck to give the fellow credit. I rather liked him, though. But this fellow upstairs," he snapped his fingers, "some day I shall order him out of my building."

"Why?" asked Adrian curiously. "Because of his--"

"His alleged prison record?" Sherman finished. "No. For many a good man's served his term." He shrugged. "I can't just tell you why I feel like that toward Jim Casey. He's no worse than the rest of his clan; the city government's rotten straight through except for a few honest judges and they're helpless before the quibbles and intricacies of law." He took the long black cigar from his mouth and regarded Adrian with his curious concentration--that force of purpose which was one day to list William Tec.u.mseh Sherman among the world's great generals. "There's going to be the devil to pay, my young friend," he said, frowning, "between corruption, sectional feuds and business depression ..."

"What about the report that Page, Bacon & Company's St. Louis house has failed?" said Stanley in an undertone. Sherman eyed him sharply.

"Where'd you hear that?" he shot back. And then, ere Adrian could answer, he inquired, "Have you much on deposit there?"

"Ten thousand," replied the young contractor.

For a moment Sherman remained silent, twisting the long cigar about between grim lips. Then he put a hand abruptly on the other's shoulder.

"Take it out," he said, "today."

Somewhat later Sherman was summoned to a conference with Henry Haight, manager of the banking house in question, and young Page of the Sacramento branch. He emerged with a clouded brow, puffing furiously at his cigar. As he pa.s.sed through the bank, Sherman noted an unusual line of men, interspersed with an occasional woman, waiting their turn for the paying teller's service. The man was counting out gold and silver feverishly. There was whispering among the file of waiters. To him the thing had an ominous look.

He stopped for a moment at the bank of Adams & Company. There also the number of people withdrawing deposits was unusual; the receiving teller's window was neglected. James King of William, who, since the closing of his own bank, had been Adams & Company's manager, came forward and drew Sherman aside. "What do you think of the prospect?" he asked. "Few of us can stand a run. We're perfectly solvent, but if this excitement spreads it means ruin for the house--for every bank in town perhaps."

"Haight's drunk," said Sherman tersely. "Page is silly with fear. I went over to help them ... but it's no use. They're gone."

King's bearded face was pale, but his eyes were steady. "I'm sorry," he said, "that makes it harder for us all." He smiled mirthlessly. "You're better off than we ... with our country branches. If anything goes wrong here, our agents will be blamed. There may be bloodshed even." He held out his hand and Sherman gripped it. "Good luck," the latter said, "we'll stand together, far as possible."

As Sherman left the second counting house, he noted how the line had grown before the paying teller's window. It extended now outside the door. At Palmer, Cook & Company's and Naglee's banks it was the same.

The human queue, which issued from the doors of Page, Bacon & Company, now reached around the corner. It was growing turbulent. Women tried to force themselves between the close-packed file and were repelled. One of these was Sherman's washwoman. She clutched his coat-tails as he hurried by.

"My G.o.d, sir!" she wailed, "they've my money; the savings of years. And now they say it's gone ... that Haight's gambled ... spent it on women ..."

Sherman tried to quiet her and was beset by others. "How's your bank?"

people shouted at him. "How's Lucas-Turner?"

"Sound as a dollar," he told them; "come and get your money when you please; it's there waiting for you."

But his heart was heavy with foreboding as he entered his own bank. Here the line was somewhat shorter than at most of the others, but still sufficiently long to cause dismay. Sherman pa.s.sed behind the counter and conferred with his a.s.sistant.

"We close in half an hour--at three o'clock," he said. "That will give us a breathing spell. Tomorrow comes the test. By then the town will know of Page-Bacon's failure ..."

He beckoned to the head accountant, who came hurriedly, a quill pen bobbing behind his ear, his tall figure bent from stooping over ledgers.

"How much will we require to withstand a day's run?" Sherman flung the question at him like a thunderbolt. And almost as though the impact of some verbal missile had deprived him of speech, the man stopped, stammering.

"I--I--I think, s-s-sir," he gulped and recovered himself with an effort, "f-forty thousand will do it."

Swiftly Sherman turned toward the door. "Where are you going?" the a.s.sistant called.

"To get forty thousand dollars--if I have to turn highwayman," Sherman flung over his shoulder.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII

"GIVE US OUR SAVINGS!"

As he left the bank Sherman cast over in his mind with desperate swiftness the list of men to whom he could go for financial support.

Turner, Lucas & Co. had loaned Captain Folsom $25,000 on his two late ventures, the Metropolitan Theatre and the Tehama House. Both, under normal conditions, would have made their promoter rich. But nothing was at par these days.

Sherman wondered uneasily whether Folsom could help. He was not a man to save money, and the banker, who made it his business to know what borrowers of the bank's money did, knew that Folsom liked gambling, frequented places where the stakes ran high. Of late he had met heavy losses. However, he was a big man, Sherman reasoned; he should have large resources. Both of them were former army officers. That should prove a bond between them. At Captain Folsom's house an old negro servant opened the door, his wrinkled black face anxious.

"Mars Joe, he ain't right well dis evenin'," he said, evasively, but when Sherman persisted he was ushered into a back room where sat the redoubtable captain, all the fierceness of his burnside whiskers, the austerity of his West Point manner, melted in the indignity of sneezes and wheezes.

Sherman looked at him in frank dismay.

"Heavens, man," he said, "I'm sorry to intrude on you in this condition ... but my errand won't wait...."

"What do you want, Bill Sherman?" the sick man glowered.

"Money," Sherman answered crisply. "You know, perhaps, that Page, Bacon & Co. have failed. Everyone's afraid of his deposits. We've got to have cash tomorrow. How about your--?"

With a cry of irritation Folsom threw up his hands. "Money! G.o.d Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar in town. My agent, Van Winkle, has walked his legs off, talked himself hoa.r.s.e.... He can't get anything. It's impossible."

"Then you can do nothing?"

For answer Folsom broke into a torrent of sneezes and coughs. The old negro came running. Sherman shook his head and left the room.

There remained Major Hammond, collector of the port, two of whose notes the bank held.

He and Sherman were not over-friendly; yet Hammond must be asked.

Sherman made his way to the customs house briskly, stated his business to the doorkeeper and sat down in an anteroom to await Hammond's pleasure. There he cooled his heels for a considerable period before he was summoned to an inner office.

"Well, Sherman," he asked, not ungraciously, "what can I do for you?"

"You can take up one of your notes with our bank," replied Sherman, without ado. "We need cash desperately."

"'Fraid of a run, eh?"

"Not afraid, no. But preparing for it."

The other nodded his approval. "Quite right! quite right!" he said with unexpected warmth.... "So you'd like me to cash one of my notes, Mr. Sherman?"

"Why, yes, sir, if it wouldn't inconvenience you," the banker answered, "it would aid us greatly." He looked into the collector's keen, inquiring eyes, then added: "I may as well say quite frankly, Mr.

Hammond, you're our last resort."

"Then why"--the other's smile was whimsical--"then why not both of my notes?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: There sat the redoubtable captain, all the ... austerity of his West Point manner melted in the indignity of sneezes and wheezes.... "Money! G.o.d Almighty! Sherman, there's not a loose dollar in town."]

"Do you mean it?" Sherman asked breathlessly.