Chapter 14

Peterson said he would when he had cooked and eaten his supper. It was then after seven o'clock, and the thought occurred to us that we were hungry. Peterson agreed to do the best he could for us in the way of a meal, and he did very well.

We were lamentably shy on dishes and knives and forks. We had bacon and eggs, fried potatoes, bread and butter and some really excellent coffee. There was only a single room in the hut, but it was clean and fairly tidy. Peterson explained that he never had company, and apologised for his lack of tableware.

Miss Harding was given the only regulation knife and fork, and I had the pleasure of beholding her eating from my plate. There was only one plate, Peterson using the frying pan and a carving knife.

What fun we had over that humble but wholesome meal! Miss Harding praised our host's cooking, and his honest blue eyes glistened at the compliment. Miss Harding and I sat on a board which rested on two nail kegs, while Peterson, against his protest, had the one chair in the house.

It was growing dark ere the meal was ended. I ran the touring car into the little yard and sheltered it as best I could under the projecting ledge of a rock. Peterson produced a big strip of heavy canvas which I put to good service by protecting the vital parts of the mechanism. Peterson assured us that the car would be safe, and with a parting look at it we entered the forest.

It was a long, tortuous and in places dangerous journey. While we were not in the track of the tornado, the storm had been severe over a wide territory. Fallen trees lay across our rocky trail and at times we had to make wide detours, forcing our way through thick underbrush and scaling slippery rocks.

Miss Harding proved a good woodswoman.

"If I did not know that papa is worried I would enjoy every moment of this," she declared, as we paused to rest after a climb of fully five hundred feet out of the valley.

The lightning was again flickering in the west and we pressed on. There were intervals of cleared spaces now and then. We climbed fences, jumped ditches and seemingly walked scores of miles, but still the flickering yellow light of that lantern led us remorselessly on. At last when it appeared as if our quest were interminable we surmounted a rail fence and found ourselves in a road.

"Pine Top half a mile," was the cheering announcement made by Peterson as he held the lantern so that Miss Harding could examine the extent of a rent just made in her gown.

Ten minutes later we stood on the platform of the little red station in Pine Top, and the spasmodic clatter of a telegraph instrument was music in our ears.

Down came the rain, but what cared we! The steel rails which gleamed and glistened in the signal lights led to Woodvale. We entered the room and waited patiently until the operator looked up from the jabbering receiver.

"When is the next train to Woodvale?" was my ungrammatical query.

"I wish I could tell you," he answered, rather sullenly. He had been on duty hours over time. "They've nearly cleared the track between here and Woodvale, but the Lord only knows when a train can get through from Oak Cliff."

"No train from Oak Cliff since the storm?" I asked.

"Well, I should guess not!" he gruffly laughed. "Oak Cliff's wiped off the map."

Miss Harding clutched my arm. There was startled agony in her eyes, her lips trembled but she bore the shock bravely.

"Did you get a message to that effect?" I demanded in a voice which must have surprised him.

"No, the wires are down between here and Oak Cliff, but a man came by here an hour ago who said it went through the village."

"Did it strike the Oak Cliff club house?" I asked.

"He didn't say," replied the operator, and then the instrument demanded his attention.

"These reports are always exaggerated," I assured Miss Harding. "Besides the club house is of stone, and it is protected by a hill to the west. Do not be in the least alarmed."

"We can only hope and wait," she softly said.

We heartily thanked Peterson and watched him as he disappeared in the darkness, tramping stolidly in the face of a driving rain.

Despite the rain it was warm and we sat on a bench under the broad roof of the platform. I did my best to take her mind away from the dread which possessed her, but it was a wretched hour for both of us. Then we saw the flicker of lights down the track, and toward us came a small army of labourers who had been clearing the roadbed between us and Woodvale.

They stopped a minute in front of the station. These hardy Italians stood in the drenching rain, axes in their hands or over their shoulders, their clothes smeared with mud, water running in streams from the rims of their broad hats; there they stood and laughed, chattered, jested and indulged in rough play while their foreman received his instructions from the telegraph operator. And then with a cheer and a song they started on their way to Oak Cliff. Happiness and contentment are gifts; they cannot be purchased.

Something to the south burned a widening circle in the mist and rain, and from its centre we made out the headlight of a locomotive. It was a passenger train, and as it crawled cautiously to the platform two men leaped from it and came toward us.

I recognised Carter and Chilvers.

They had heard of the tornado and had constituted themselves a searching party.

"Naturally your mother is alarmed," said Carter "but I assured her that it was nothing more serious than delayed trains. She knows nothing of the tornado."

We were informed that the up train would be held on a sidetrack until the one from Oak Cliff got through. There was nothing to do but wait. It was past midnight when we heard the blast of a whistle to the north, and when the train from Oak Cliff pulled in Mr. Harding was the first one to swing to the station platform.

"Well, well, well!" he exclaimed, releasing his daughter's arms from his neck, holding her at arm's length and then kissing her again. "Is this the way you call for me at four o'clock? Where's Smith? Hello, Smith! Where's the red buzz wagon?"

"Over there," I said.

And then we all talked at once. Chilvers danced a clog-step to the delight of the grinning trainmen, Carter removed his monocle and polished it innumerable times, Miss Harding laughed and cried by turns, Mr. Harding dug cigars from pockets which seemed inexhaustible, and gave them to the railroad men, and I furiously smoked a pipe and put in a word whenever I had a chance. It was an informal and glorious reunion.

The wires were working to Woodvale, communication having been made while we stood there, and the conductor was honoured that he had the privilege to hold the train while the famous Robert L. Harding sent a reassuring telegram to his wife.

It was nearly two o'clock when we arrived in Woodvale. I asked Mr. Harding how near the tornado came to the Oak Cliff club house.

"Smith," he said, laying his hand on my arm, "it passed so close that I could have driven a golf ball into it, and I was tempted to try. That's the best chance I'll have to get a long carry."

ENTRY NO. XX

FAT EWES AND SHARP KNIVES

At last I have the spare time in which to bring this diary up to date, but where shall I begin?

One romance is ended. It was very pretty and interesting while it lasted, but all things must have an end, especially flirtations.

Miss Olive Lawrence has left Woodvale. The season has only started, but she confided to Miss Dangerfield that she was wearied with golf and Woodvale. So with a smile to all, and having settled in full with Wallace for a dozen or more lessons she left for the south with an assortment of trunks which tested the capacity of the baggage car.

I feel rather sorry for Wallace, though I give him credit for enough sense to have realised that her interest in him could amount to nothing more than a desire to amuse herself. It does not speak well for fascinating qualities for our Woodvale gallants that Miss Lawrence selected this unknown outsider even as a target on which to practise flirtation archery, but, in common with most men, it is beyond my ken to fathom the caprices of a pretty woman.

Wallace says nothing, but I can see that he takes it to heart. He spends most of his spare time at Bishop's, but attends strictly to his business. He is the best professional we have ever had, and it is fortunate for the club that he did not gain the fair prize which many of us thought was within his grasp.

I have won the "Harding Trophy!"

Carter and I played for it last Thursday. I had absolute confidence that I should win, and when Miss Harding smilingly told me that she was "pulling for me," I had no more doubt that I could win than I had that I was alive. We had the largest gallery that ever has followed a match in Woodvale. The betting was two to one against me.

I beat Carter four up and three to play, and made a medal score of seventy-six, breaking the amateur record for the course. That statement is quite sufficient to tell the story of the game.

I gave a dinner in honour of my victory, and at its conclusion Miss Harding presented the "Bronze Gent," as Chilvers calls this beautiful statuette. She made a graceful speech and we cheered her wildly. How charming she looked as she stood beside the huge bulk of her proud father! I tried to say something in reply, but the light in her eyes seemed to hypnotise me, and after a few incoherent sentences Chilvers came to my relief by striking up our club song, to the tune of a familiar hymn:

"Oh, why can't I drive like other men do? How on earth can you drive if you don't follow through?"

CHORUS

"Hallelulia; watch that shoulder Hallelulia, my men; Hallelulia; get your wrists in! Must I tell you again?"

"Everybody come in strong on the second verse," ordered Chilvers, and we obeyed as best we could, also on the third. They run like this:

"I can't understand; understand it at all, Why I can't keep my eye on that little white ball."

CHORUS

"Hallelulia; keep a-looking; Hallelulia, my men; Hallelulia; keep a-watching! Must I tell you again?"

"Oh, why can't I hole out on each green in two? Because we all find that a hard thing to do."

CHORUS

"Hallelulia; grasp your putter Hallelulia, again, Hallelulia; hit it harder! Never up, never in!"

It was a great occasion, but I have things to narrate which are of much more import. The board of directors of the N.O. & G. railroad met on Friday!

Mr. Harding and I went to the city together. He was very busy looking over papers, and noticing his preoccupation I did not attempt to engage in conversation with him.

I had plenty to think of. This was the day big with my future. This was the day when the conspirators proposed to pass the dividend on the stock of the N.O. & G. Would they dare to do it? What would result if they did?

Knowing as I did that the earnings of the property had increased and that its prospects never were more favourable, I could not believe it possible that responsible officials would dare take so unwarranted a step for the purpose of influencing stock quotations. But while I kept my head and appeared outwardly calm, I was nervous, and I frankly confess it.

I was weighing the situation in its various lights when Mr. Harding spoke to me.

"Are you good at figures, Smith?" he asked.

"I can add, subtract, multiply and divide," I said with some confidence.

"Good!" he growled. "You've got nothing else to do, so you may as well help me on multiplication and addition. Multiply these by those and add 'em up--right quick, won't you?"

He passed to me a piece of paper containing the following memorandum:

500................................68-1/2

1100................................67-3/4

4000................................67-1/2

300................................66-7/8

600................................66-1/2

1700................................65-1/2

200................................64

2300................................63-1/2

1000................................62-3/4

500................................61-1/4

3000................................60-1/2

1200................................59

300................................59-1/4

100................................58-7/8

400................................58-1/2

250................................59

1000....... ........................58-3/8

There were dates opposite the larger numerals, but these, of course, did not enter into the computation.

Harding handed me a blank pad and resumed his study of other papers which from time to time he produced from a large black-covered folio. It took me some time to finish this calculation, but at last my task was ended and I gave the slip to him.

"Sure that's right, Smith?" he asked, looking at the footing.

"Your 18,450 shares of N.O. & G. stock cost you exactly $1,174,815, Mr. Harding, not including the commissions to your brokers," I said, calmly as possible.

His big head swung quickly and he gazed at me with an expression of abject surprise.

"Well I'll be--well--say, Smith, how in thunder did you get the idea into your head that those figures stood for N.O. & G. stock?" he demanded, after glancing at the slip to make sure that it contained no tell-tale initials.

"Because the dates of purchase correspond with the quotations," I responded, enjoying his amazement and wondering to what it would lead. "I am only guessing that you bought, but of course it's possible you sold or went short. Please do not imagine I'm attempting to pry into your affairs, Mr. Harding," I added.

He sank back into his seat and for several seconds said nothing.

"Do you mind answering a few questions, Smith?" he said.

"That depends," I smiled. "Go ahead and ask them."

"Have you been dealing in N.O. & G.?"

"Yes."

"Buying or selling?"

"Buying."

"Outright or on margin?"

"On margin."

"How many shares have you an option on?"

I hesitated.

"Mr. Harding," I said, "in answering that question I assume that the information is confidential and that it will not be used to my disadvantage. Up to now it has been a secret known only to my brokers."

"You will lose nothing by telling me," Mr. Harding said, and I knew that promise was as good as his note at hand.

"My brokers have contracted for 45,000 shares of N.O. & G.," I said, handing him a list of my purchases with dates, amounts, and quotations.

He studied it for a while in silence.

"I thought you did nothing but play golf," he said. "Tell me; how did you happen to go into a deal of this magnitude?"

I gave him the details of the conspiracy as I had discovered them. It is not safe at this time to disclose them even in this diary. Mr. Harding listened with growing wonder on his face.

"My boy," he said, when I had ended, "if there is anyone in the country who should have discovered and taken advantage of the facts you have just told me, it is myself, but I never dreamed of them until you had purchased more than 30,000 shares of that stock. These dogs think I'm in Europe! They were told so. They think they have sold me out, and perhaps they have. I did not watch it as I should have done."

For a minute the train roared on past suburban stations, under viaducts, through echoing rows of freight cars, and over clattering switches. We were nearing the metropolis.

"Do you mind telling me if you are alone in this transaction?" he suddenly asked.

"I am."

"Do you wish to go in with me in this deal?"

"I do!" I replied without hesitation.

"Good!" he said, offering his hand. "We'll talk no more of this here. It's not safe. Come with me to my office."

We reached his private office half an hour before the opening of the Stock Exchange. In five minutes the machinery of his wonderful system was in operation. Notes were dictated, messengers hurried away with them, men called, who listened to curt orders and vanished.

An hour passed and he gave orders that no one should be admitted until further notice.

"N.O. & G. is stationary around 59," he said, offering a cigar. "The directors meet at noon. They will pass the dividend. They think to shake out your 45,000 shares and a lot more in small holdings. In all I own 35,000 shares, so that together we control 80,000 out of 200,000. I now propose to show these honourable gentlemen a trick which will give them something to think about for several weeks to come. I know a _gentleman_ who owns outright 25,000 shares. He is one of the heads of which you term "the conspiracy". It is not a conspiracy, Smith; it is business. He tried to sell me out and has failed as he will learn in a few minutes. He will then sell out the men who implicitly trust him, as they would sell him out if they could see a chance to make money out of it. Do not talk of conspiracies, Smith! These honourable business _gentlemen_ down here are extremely sensitive, and you should be careful not to hurt their feelings."

We quickly came to an agreement by which our holdings were pooled. It was stipulated that he should have entire control of the operations from that time on, and after settling important details I suggested that I go to my broker's office and await developments.

"There's nothing you can do here," he said, as I arose. "Yes, there is, too," he added. "The folks are going to drop in here at about two o'clock. I'm going to be too busy to bother with them, and I foolishly promised to take them to the gallery of the Stock Exchange. You'll be worth more money then than you are now," he said with a grim smile. "Take them over and show them how a real sheep-killing looks when the ewes are fat and the knives sharp."

I promised to call for them at two o'clock, and then went to the office of my brokers.

Carelessly glancing at the quotation opposite the letters N.O. & G., I saw that it had dropped to 56. The head of the firm approached me and asked me to step into his private office.

"The rumour is strong that the dividend will be passed," he said.

"Which is preparatory to saying that you would like me to put up more margins, I presume?"

"Business is business, you know, Mr. Smith," he said, softly rubbing his hands.

"I have, anticipated your caution," I remarked. Mr. Harding had warned me that an unwarranted demand for margins would be made, but confident of the integrity of my brokers I had doubted it. "I presume an extra ten points will satisfy you?"

He seemed surprised but said it would. I gave him a certified check for $450,000.

"Thank you, Mr. Smith. You will excuse me for requesting this, but business is business."

"So I am learning," I coldly observed, and this closed our interview. I was convinced that "the conspirators" had gotten into communication with my brokers, but of course I could not prove it.

As the noon hour approached, N.O. & G. sagged off to 53 on comparatively heavy transactions. It stuck there until over the various mechanisms for sending information came this simple announcement, "The directors of the N.O. & G. have passed the regular semi-annual dividend."

The card boy of the stock board became busy. N.O. & G. dropped a point or more between sales, until it struck 47. I had small doubt of the outcome, but it is not pleasant to sit and watch the figures go up which hint at a loss of $45,000 every minute or so. I tried to look unconcerned, but doubt if I succeeded.

I knew that not far away a strong man was at the wheel, but the best of ships go down. What if his plans had miscarried? I dared not think of it!

"Two thousand N.O. & G. at 48," called the watcher at the ticker. "Five hundred at 47-1/2; 1,000 at 47; 2,000, 400, I,500, 3,000, at 47. Looks as if someone has pegged it at 47!"

The entire market was declining in sympathy with the disturbing news concerning this standard property. "Twelve hundred N.O. & G. at 47-1/4," called the man at the ticker. "Three thousand at 48; 1,500 at 49; 5,000 at 50! Someone's after that non-dividend paying stock!"

Like a man in a dream I watched that stock start on its dizzy climb. In five minutes it had reached 55, and by leaps and bounds it soared to 70. My brokers rushed to me with their congratulations. Did I wish to place any orders? Some strong interest undoubtedly was back of the rise?

I informed them I had purchased all I desired.

I am not indifferent in the matter of money. I am ambitious to possess it for the prestige it gives and the power it grants, but it is the simple truth to say that in those triumphant moments and in the subsequent hours the thought which held possession of me and which made me superlatively happy was the consciousness that so far as material assets were concerned I had a right to aspire to the hand of Grace Harding!

For some time the quotations vibrated nervously about the seventy mark. I was about to start for Mr. Harding's office when a man with a loud voice read a bulletin just received.

"_One forty-five p.m._," he began. "_Robert L. Harding authorises the announcement that in conjunction with John Henry Smith he has purchased a majority of the stock of the N.O. & G. railroad, and that it will be operated as a part of the system with which Mr. Harding is identified_."

"Who in thunder is John Henry Smith?" asked a veteran stock gambler.

I hurriedly left the room.

In the inner offices of Mr. Harding's headquarters I found Mrs. and Miss Harding.

"We have heard the news!" exclaimed Miss Harding. "Isn't it splendid? I congratulate you, Mr. Smith!"

Mr. Harding appeared at this moment, a broad smile on his face.

"Not so bad, eh Smith!" he said, shaking hands. The fierce light of battle was in his eyes. "They're headed for the tall timber, but we still have their range! Did you hear the last quotation?"

"The last figure I saw was seventy-three," I said.

"Seventy-three?" he laughed. "I just bought a thousand shares for ninety-one. Take the folks over to the visitor's gallery and let them watch the animals. I'm going to begin to feed them raw meat in about half an hour."

As we walked toward the Exchange, Mrs. Harding said to me: "I think it's perfectly wicked the way you men gamble!"

Bless her dear heart, so do I, but what could I say except to utter some commonplace?

The huge box of marble and gold where this gambling is done already was seething with maniacs who had reached a stage of delirium pitiful to those who witness such scenes for the first time. It was as if a thousand human rats had been hurled into a pit, with heaven and earth offered as prizes to those who survived.

The swaying forms, the tossing arms, the frantic uplifted faces of aged men, the football rush of impetuous youths, the shrieks, howlings and bellowings of the combatants, the tramp of feet on the paper-strewn floor, the clatter of innumerable instruments, the tinkle of myriads of bells; and through the opened windows God's pure sunlight illumining this hell on earth--such was the scene they looked down upon.

I knew the signs which told when Harding threw the first bits of "raw meat" into this gilded corral. I knew that he long since had cornered N.O. & G., and that he would whet the appetites of his victims as only he knew how, but I did not know that it was his day of reckoning for other "conspirators" equally as grasping as those with whom I had measured my puny sword.

As the hands of the clock slowly crawled to the hour of three the frenzy of the mob in the centre of the pit became maddening. I had no way of knowing from where we stood whether prices were moving up or down, but it was evident that Harding was "feeding the animals."

Then the gong boomed the signal that the session was ended. The tumult rose to one resounding crash, hesitated, subsided and died away. The struggling groups dissolved and partial sanity resumed its sway.