CHAPTER XXI.Of Conflicts, Within and Without.
CHAPTER XXI.
Of Conflicts, Within and Without.
I have often wished that some sort of a business weather-chart might be periodically got out, showing conditions all over the world. It seems to me that with such a map one could forecast financial storms and squalls with an accuracy quite up to the weather-bureau standard.
Had we at Lattimore been provided with such a chart, and been reminded of the wisdom of referring to it occasionally, we might have saved ourselves some surprises. We should have known of certain areas of speculative high pressure in Australasia, Argentina, and South Africa, which existed even prior to my meeting with Jim that day in the Pullman smoking-room coming out of Chicago. These we should have seen changing month by month, until at the time when we were most gloriously carrying things before us in Lattimore, each of these spots on the other side of the little old world showed financial disturbances—pronounced “lows.” We should have seen symptoms of storm on the European bourses; and we should have thought of the natural progress of the moving areas, and derived much benefit from such consideration. We should certainly have paidsome attention to it, if we could have seen the black isobars drawn about London, when the great banking house of Fleischmann Brothers went down in the wreck of their South African and Argentine investments. But having no such chart, and being much engrossed in the game against the World and Destiny, we glanced for a moment at the dispatches, seeing nothing in them of interest to us, congratulated ourselves that we were not as other investors and speculators, and played on.
Once in a while we found some over-cautious banker or broker who had inexplicable fears for the future.
“Here is an idiot,” said Cornish, while we were placing the paper to float the Trescott deal, “who is calling his loans; and why, do you think?”
“Can’t guess,” said Jim, “unless he needs the money. How doesheaccount for it?”
“Read his letter,” said Cornish. “Says the Fleischmann failure in London is making his directors cautious. I’m calling his attention to the now prevailing sun-spots, as bearing on Lattimore property.”
Mr. Elkins read the letter carefully, turned it over, and read it again.
“Don’t,” said he; “he may be one of those asses who fail to see the business value of thereductio ad absurdum.... Fellows, we must push this L. & G. W. business with Pendleton. Some of us ought to be down there now.”
“That is wise counsel,” I agreed, “and you’re the man.”
“No,” said he positively, “I’m not the man. Cornish, can’t you go, starting, say, to-morrow?”
“No indeed,” said Cornish with equal positiveness; “since my turn-down by Wade on that bond deal, I’m out of touch with the lower Broadway and Wall Street element. It seems clear to me that you are the only one to carry this negotiation forward.”
“I can’t go, absolutely,” insisted Jim. “Al, it seems to be up to you.”
I knew that Jim ought to do this work, and could not understand the reasons for both himself and Cornish declining the mission. Privately, I told him that it was nonsense to send me; but he found reasons in plenty for the course he had determined upon. He had better control of the hot air, he said, but as a matter of fact I was more in Pendleton’s class than he was, I was more careful in my statements, and I saw further into men’s minds.
“And if, as you say,” said he, “Pendleton thinks me the whole works here, it will show a self-possession and freedom from anxiety on our part to accredit a subordinate (as you call yourself) as envoy to the court of St. Scads. Again, affairs here are likely to need me at any time; and if we go wrong here, it’s all off. I don’t dare leave. Anyhow, down deep in your subconsciousness, you know that in diplomacy you really have us all beaten to a pulp: and this is a matter as purely diplomatic as draw-poker. You’ll do all right.”
My wife was skeptical as to the necessity of my going.
“Why doesn’t Mr. Cornish go, then?” she inquired,after I had explained to her the position of Mr. Elkins. “He is a native of Wall Street, I believe.”
“Well,” I repeated, “they both say positively that they can’t go.”
“Your natural specialty may be diplomacy,” said she pityingly, “but if you take the reasons they give as the real ones, I must be permitted to doubt it. It’s perfectly obvious that if Josie were transferred to New York, the demands of business would take them both there at once.”
This remark struck me as very subtle, and as having a good deal in it. Josie had never permitted the rivalry between Jim and Cornish to become publicly apparent; but in spite of the mourning which kept the Trescott’s in semi-retirement, it was daily growing more keen. Elkins was plainly anxious at the progress Cornish had seemed to make during his last long absence, and still doubtful of his relations with Josie after that utterance over her father’s body. But he was not one to give up, and so, whenever she came over for an evening with Alice, Jim was sure to drop in casually and see us. I believe Alice telephoned him. On the other hand, Cornish was calling at the Trescott house with increasing frequency. Mrs. Trescott was decidedly favorable to him, Alice a pronounced partisan of Elkins; and Josie vibrated between the two oppositely charged atmospheres, calmly non-committal, and apparently pleased with both. But the affair was affecting our relations. There was a new feeling, still unexpressed, of strain and stress, in spite of the familiarity and comradeship of long and intimateintercourse. Moreover, I felt that Mr. Hinckley was not on the same terms with Jim as formerly, and I wondered if he was possessed of Antonia’s secret.
It was with a prevision of something out of the ordinary, therefore, that I received through Alice a request from Josie for a private interview with me. She would come to us at any time when I would telephone that I was at home and would see her. Of course I at once decided I would go to her. Which, that evening, my last in Lattimore before starting for the East, I did.
There was a side door to my house, and a corresponding one in the Trescott home across the street. We were all quite in the habit, in our constant visiting between the households, of making a short cut by crossing the road from one of these doors to the other. This I did that evening, rapped at the door, and imagining I heard a voice bid me come in, opened it, and stepping into the library, found no one. The door between the library and the front hall stood open, and through it I heard the voice of Miss Trescott and the clear, carrying tones of Mr. Cornish, in low but earnest conversation.
“Yes,” I heard him say, “perhaps. And if I am, haven’t I abundant reason?”
“I have told you often,” said she pleadingly, “that I would give you a definite answer whenever you definitely demand it—”
“And that it would in that case be ‘No,’” he added, completing the sentence. “Oh, Josie, my darling, haven’t you punished me enough for my bad conducttoward you in that old time? I was a young fool, and you a strange country girl; but as soon as you left us, I began to feel your sweetness. And I was seeking for you everywhere I went until I found you that night up there by the lake. Does that seem like slighting you? Why, I hope you don’t deem me capable of being satisfied in this hole Lattimore, under any circumstances, if it hadn’t been for the hope and comfort your being here has given me!”
“I thought we were to say no more about that old time,” said she; “I thought the doings of Johnny Cornish were not to be remembered by or of Bedford.”
“The name I’ve asked you to call me by!” said he passionately. “Does that mean—”
“It means nothing,” said she. “Oh, please, please!—Good-night!”
I retired to the porch, and rapped again. She came to the door blushing redly, and so fluttered by their leave-taking that I thanked God that Jim was not in my place. There would have been division in our ranks at once; for it seemed to me that her conduct to Cornish was too complaisant by far.
“I came over,” said I, “because Alice said you wanted to see me.”
I think there must have been in my tone something of the reproach in my thoughts; for she timidly said she was sorry to have given me so much trouble.
“Oh, don’t, Josie!” said I. “You know I’d not miss the chance of doing you a favor for anything.Tell me what it is, my dear girl, and don’t speak of trouble.”
“If you forbid reference to trouble,” said she, smiling, “it will stop this conference. For my troubles are what I want to talk to you about. May I go on?—You see, our financial condition is awfully queer. Mamma has some money, but not much. And we have this big house. It’s absurd for us to live in it, and I want to ask you first, can you sell it for us?”
It was doubtful, I told her. A year or so ago, I went on, it would have been easy; but somehow the market for fine houses was dull now. We would try, though, and hoped to succeed. We talked at length, and I took copious memoranda for my clerks.
“There is another thing,” said she when we had finished the subject of the house, “upon which I want light, something upon which depends my staying here or going away. You know General Lattimore and I are friends, and that I place great trust in his conclusions. He says that the most terrible hard times here would result from anything happening to your syndicate. You have said almost the same thing once or twice, and the other day you said something about great operations which you have in view which will, somehow, do away with any danger of that kind. Is it true that you would all be—ruined by a—breaking up—or anything of that sort?”
“Just now,” I confessed, “such a thing would be dangerous; but I hope we shall soon be past all that.”
I told her, as well as I could, about our hopes, and of my mission to New York.
“You must suspect,” said she, “that my presence here is danger to your harmony; and through you, to all these people whose names even we have never heard. Shall I go away? I can go almost anywhere with mamma, and we can get along nicely. Now that pa is gone, my work here is over, and I want to get into the world.”
I thought of the parallelism between her discontent and the speech Mr. Cornish had made, referring so contemptuously to Lattimore. I began to see the many things in common between them, and I grew anxious for Jim.
“Of all things,” said she, “I want to avoid the rôle of Helen setting a city in flames. It would be so absurd—and so terrible; and rather than do such a hackneyed and harmful thing, I want to go away.”
“Do you really mean that?” I asked, “Haven’t you a desire to make your choice, and stay?”
“You mustn’t ask that question, Albert,” said she. “The answer is a secret—from every one. But I will say—that if you succeed in this mission, so as to put people here quite out of danger—I may not go away—not for some time!”
She was blushing again, just as she blushed when she admitted me. I thought once more of the fluttering cry, “Oh, please—please!” and the pause before she added the good-night, and my jealousy for Jim rose again.
“Well,” said I, rising, “all I can say is that I hope all will be safe when I return, and that you will findit quite possible to—remain. My advice is: do nothing looking toward leaving until I return.”
“Don’t be cross with me, Mr. Barslow,” said she, “for really, really—I am in great perplexity.”
“I am not cross,” said I, “but don’t you see how hard it is for me to advise? Things conflict so, and all among your friends!”
“They do conflict,” she assented, “they do conflict, every way, and all the time—and do, do give me a little credit for keeping the conflict from getting beyond control for so long; for there are conflicts within, as well as without! Don’t blame Helen altogether, or me, whatever happens!”
She hung on my arm, as she took me to the door, and seemed deeply troubled. I left her, and walked several times around the block, ruminating upon the extraordinary way in which these dissolving views of passion were displaying themselves to me. Not that the mere matter of outburst of confidences surprised me; for people all my life have bored me with their secret woes. I think it is because I early formed a habit of looking sympathetic. But these concerned me so nearly that their gradual focussing to some sort of climax filled me with anxious interest.
The next day I spent in the sleeping-car, running into Chicago. As the clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clackof the wheels vibrated through my couch, I pondered on the ridiculous position of that cautious Eastern bank as to the Fleischmann Brothers’ failure; then on the Lattimore & Great Western and Belt Line sale; and finally worked around through the Straits of Sunda, in a suspiciouslateen-rigged craft manned by Malays and Portuguese. Finally, I was horrified at discovering Cornish, in a slashed doublet, carrying Josie away in one of the boats, having scuttled the vessel and left Jim bound to the mast.
“Chicago in fifteen minutes, suh,” said the porter, at this critical point. “Just in time to dress, suh.”
And as I awoke, my approach toward New York brought to me a sickening consciousness of the struggle which awaited me there, and the fatal results of failure.
CHAPTER XXII.In which I Win my Great Victory.
CHAPTER XXII.
In which I Win my Great Victory.
My plan was our old one—to see both Pendleton and Halliday, and, if possible, to allow both to know of the fact that we had two strings to our bow, playing the one off against the other. Whether or not there was any likelihood of this course doing any good was dependent on the existence of the strained personal relations, as well as the business rivalry, generally supposed to prevail between the two Titans of the highways. As conditions have since become, plans like mine are quite sure to come to naught; but in those days the community of interests in the railway world had not reached its present perfection of organization. Men like Pendleton and Halliday were preparing the way for it, but the personal equation was then a powerful factor in the problem, and these builders of their own systems still carried on their private wars with their own forces. In such a war our properties were important.
The Lattimore & Great Western with the Belt Line terminals would make the Pendleton system dominant in Lattimore. In the possession of Halliday it would render him the arbiter of the city’sfortunes, and would cut off from his rival’s lines the rich business from this feeder. Both men were playing with the patience of Muscovite diplomacy the old and tried game of permitting the little road to run until it got into difficulties, and then swooping down upon it; but either, we thought, and especially Pendleton, would pay full value for the properties rather than see them fall into his opponent’s net.
I wired Pendleton’s office from home that I was coming. At Chicago I received from his private secretary a telegram reading: “Mr. Pendleton will see you at any time after the 9th inst.Smith.”
We had been having some correspondence with Mr. Halliday’s office on matters of disputed switching and trackage dues. The controversy had gone up from subordinate to subordinate to the fountain of power itself. A contract had been sent on for examination, embodying amodus vivendigoverning future relations. I had wired notice of my coming to him also, and his answer, which lay alongside Pendleton’s in the same box, was evidently based on the supposition that it was this contract which was bringing me East, and was worded so as to relieve me of the journey if possible.
“Will be in New York on evening of 11th,” it read, “not before. With slight modifications, contract submitted as to L. & G. W. and Belt Line matter will be executed.Halliday.”
I spent no time in Chicago, but pushed on, in the respectable isolation of a through sleeper on a limited train. Once in a while I went forward into the day coach, to give myself the experience of thecomplete change in the social atmosphere. On arrival, I began killing time by running down every scrap of our business in New York. My gorge rose at all forms of amusement; but I had a sensation of doing something while on the cars, and went to Boston, and down to Philadelphia, all the time feeling the pulse of business. There was a lack of that confident hopefulness which greeted us on our former visits. I heard the Fleischmann failure spoken of rather frequently. One or two financial establishments on this side of the water were looked at askance because of their supposed connections with the Fleischmanns. Mr. Wade, in hushed tones, advised me to prepare for some little stringency after the holidays.
“Nothing serious, you know, Mr. Borlish,” said he, still paying his mnemonic tribute to the other names of our syndicate; “nothing to be spoken of as hard times; and as for panic, the financial world is too well organized forthatever to happen again! But a little tightening of things, Mr. Cornings, to sort of clear the decks for action on lines of conservatism for the year’s business.”
I talked with Mr. Smith, Mr. Pendleton’s private secretary, and with Mr. Carson, who spoke for Mr. Halliday. In fact I went over the L. & G. W. proposition pretty fully with each of them, and each office had a well-digested and succinct statement of the matter for the examination of the magnates when they came back. Once while Mr. Carson and I were on our way to take luncheon together, we met Mr. Smith, and I was glad to notethe glance of marked interest which he bestowed upon us. The meeting was a piece of unexpected good fortune.
On the 10th I had my audience with Mr. Pendleton. He had the typewritten statement of the proposition before him, and was ready to discuss it with his usual incisiveness.
“I am willing to say to you, Mr. Barslow,” said he, “that we are willing to take over your line when the propitious time comes. We don’t think that now is such a time. Why not run along as we are?”
“Because we are not satisfied with the railroad business as a side line, Mr. Pendleton,” said I. “We must have more mileage or none at all, and if we begin extensions, we shall be drawn into railroading as an exclusive vocation. We prefer to close out that department, and to put in all our energies to the development of our city.”
“When must you know about this?” he asked.
“I came East to close it up, if possible,” I answered. “You are familiar with the situation, and we thought must be ready to decide.”
“Two and a quarter millions,” he objected, “is out of the question. I can’t expect my directors to view half the price with any favor. How can I?”
“Show them our earnings,” I suggested.
“Yes,” said he, “that will do very well to talk to people who can be made to forget the fact that you’ve been building a city there from a country village, and your line has been pulling in everything to build it with. The next five years will be different. Again, while I feel sure the business men of yourtown will still throw things our way, as they have your way—tonnage I mean—there might be a tendency to divide it up more than when your own people were working for the trade. And the next five years will be different anyhow.”
“Do you remember,” said I, “how skeptical you were as to the past five?”
“I acknowledge it,” said he, laughing. “The fact is I didn’t give you credit for being as big men as you are. But even a big man, or a big town, can reach only as high as it can. But we can’t settle that question. I shouldn’t expect a Lattimore boomer ever to adopt my view of it. I shall give this matter some attention to-day, and while I feel sure we are too far apart ever to come together, come in in the morning, and we will look at it again.”
“I hope we may come together,” said I, rising; “we built the line to bring you into Lattimore, and we want to keep you there. It has made our town, and we prize the connection highly.”
“Ah, yes,” he answered, countering. “Well, we are spread out a good deal now, you know; and some of our directors look with suspicion upon your sudden growth, and would not feel sorry to withdraw. I don’t agree with ’em, you know, but I must defer to others sometimes. Good-morning.”
I passed the evening with Carson at the theatre, and supped with him afterward. He gave me every opportunity to indulge in champagne, and evinced a desire to know all about business conditions in Lattimore, and the affairs of the L. & G. W. I suspected that the former fact had some connectionwith the latter. I went to my hotel, however, in my usual state of ebriety, while Mr. Carson had attained a degree of friendliness toward me bordering on affection, as a direct result of setting the pace in the consumption of wine. I listened patiently to his complaints of Halliday’s ungratefulness toward him in not giving him the General Managership of one of the associated roads; but when he began to confide to me the various pathological conditions of his family, including Mrs. Carson, I drew the line, and broke up the party. I retired, feeling a little resentful toward Carson. His device seemed rather cheap to try on a full-grown man. Yet his entertainment had been undeniably good.
Next morning I was admitted to the presence of the great man with less than half an hour’s delay. He turned to me, and plunged at once into the midst of the subject. Evidently some old misunderstanding of the question came up in his mind by association of ideas, as a rejected paper will be drawn with its related files from a pigeon-hole.
“That terminal charge,” said he, “has not counted for much against the success of your road, yet; but the contract provides for increasing rentals, and it is already too much. The trackage and depots aren’t worth it. It will be a millstone about your necks!”
“Well,” said I, “you can understand the reason for making the rentals high. We had to show revenue for the Belt Line system in order to float the bonds, but the rentals become of no consequence when once you own both properties—and that’s our proposal to you.”
“Oh, yes!” said he, and at once changed the subject.
This was the only instance, in all my observation of him, in which he forgot anything, or failed correctly to see the very core of the situation. I felt somehow elated at being for a moment his superior in any respect.
We began discussing rates and tonnage, and he sent for his freight expert again. I took from my pocket some letters and telegrams and made computations on the backs of them. Some of these figures he wanted to keep for further reference.
“Please let me have those figures until this afternoon,” said he. “I must ask you to excuse me now. At two I’ll give the matter another half-hour. Come back, Mr. Barslow, prepared to name a reasonable sum, and I will accept or reject, and finish the matter.”
I left the envelopes on his desk and went out. At the hotel I sat down to think out my program and began arranging things for my departure. Was it the 11th or the 12th that Mr. Halliday was to return? I would look at his message. I turned over all my telegrams, but it was gone.
Then I thought. That was the telegram I had left with Pendleton! Would he suspect that I had left it as a trick, and resent the act? No, this was scarcely likely, for he himself had asked for it. Suddenly the construction of which it was susceptible flashed into my mind. “With slight modifications contract submitted as to L. & G. W. and Belt Line matter will be executed.Halliday.”
I was feverish until two o’clock; for I could notguess the effect of this telegram, should it be read by Pendleton. I found him impassive and keen-eyed, and I waited longer than usual for that aquiline swoop of his, as he turned in his revolving chair. I felt sure then that he had not read the message. I think differently now.
“Well, Mr. Barslow,” said he smilingly, “how far down in the millions are we to-day?”
“Mr. Pendleton,” I replied, steady as to tone, but with a quiver in my legs, “I can say nothing less than an even two millions.”
“It’s too much,” said he cheerfully, and my heart sank, “but I like Lattimore, and you men who live there, and I want to stay in the town. I’ll have the legal department prepare a contract covering the whole matter of transfers and future relations, and providing for the price you mention. You can submit it to your people, and in a short time I shall be in Chicago, and, if convenient to you, we can meet there and close the transaction. As a matter of form, I shall submit it to our directors; but you may consider it settled, I think.”
“One of our number,” said I, as calmly as if a two-million-dollar transaction were common at Lattimore, “can meet you in Chicago at any time. When will this contract be drawn?”
“Call to-morrow morning—say at ten. Show them in,” this last to his clerk, “Good-morning, Mr. Barslow.”
One doesn’t get as hilarious over a victory won alone as when he goes over the ramparts touching elbows with his charging fellows. The hurrah is acollective interjection. So I went in a sober frame of mind and telegraphed Jim and Alice of my success, cautioning my wife to say nothing about it. Then I wandered about New York, contrasting my way of rejoicing with the demonstration when we three had financed the Lattimore & Great Western bonds. I went to a vaudeville show and afterward walked miles and miles through the mysteries of the night in that wilderness. I was unutterably alone. The strain of my solitary mission in the great city was telling upon me.
“Telegram for you, Mr. Barslow,” said the night clerk, as I applied for my key.
It was a long message from Jim, and in cipher. I slowly deciphered it, my initial anxiety growing, as I progressed, to an agony.
“Come home at once,” it read. “Cornish deserting. Must take care of the hound’s interest somehow. Threatens litigation. A hold-up, but he has the drop. Am in doubt whether to shoot him now or later. Stop at Chicago, and bring Harper. Bring him, understand? Unless Pendleton deal is made, this means worse things than we ever dreamed of; but don’t wait. Leave Pendleton for later, and come home. If I follow my inclinations, you will find me in jail for murder.Elkins.”
All night I sat, turning this over in my mind. Was it ruin, or would my success here carry us through? Without a moment’s sleep I ate my breakfast, braced myself with coffee, engaged a berth for the return journey, and promptly presented myself at Pendleton’s office at ten. Wearily we went overthe precious contract, and I took my copy and left.
All that day I rode in a sort of trance, in which I could see before my eyes the forms of the hosts of those whom Jim had called “the captives below decks,” whose fortunes were dependent upon whether we striving, foolish, scheming, passionate men went to the wall. A hundred times I read in Jim’s telegram the acuteness of our crisis; and a sense of our danger swept dauntingly over my spirit. A hundred times I wished that I might awake and find that the whole thing—Aladdin and his ring, the palaces, gnomes, genies, and all—could pass away like a tale that is told, and leave me back in the rusty little town where it found me.
I slept heavily that night, and was very much much more myself when I went to see Harper in Chicago. He had received a message from Jim, and was ready to go. He also had one for me, sent in his care, and just arrived.
“You have saved the fight,” said the message; “your success came just as they were counting nine on us. With what you have done we can beat the game yet. Bring Harper, and come on.”
Harper, cool and collected, big and blonde, with a hail-fellow-well-met manner which spoke eloquently of the West, was a great comfort to me. He made light of the trouble.
“Cornish is no fool,” said he, “and he isn’t going to saw off the limb he stands on.”
I tried to take this view of it; but I knew, as he did not, the real source of the enmity between Elkinsand Cornish, and my fears returned. Business differences might be smoothed over; but with two such men, the quarrel of rivals in love meant nothing but the end of things between them.
CHAPTER XXIII.The “Dutchman’s Mill” and What It Ground.
CHAPTER XXIII.
The “Dutchman’s Mill” and What It Ground.
We sat in conclave about the table. I saw by the lined faces of Elkins and Hinckley that I had come back to a closely-beleaguered camp, where heavy watching had robbed the couch of sleep, and care pressed down the spirit. I had returned successful, but not to receive a triumph: rather, Harper and myself constituted a relief force, thrown in by stratagem, too weak to raise the siege, but bearing glad tidings of strong succor on the way.
It was our first full meeting without Cornish; and Harper sat in his place. He was unruffled and buoyant in manner, in spite of the stock in the Grain Belt Trust Company which he held, and the loans placed with his insurance company by Mr. Hinckley.
“I believe,” said he, “that we are here to consider a communication from Mr. Cornish. It seems that we ought to hear the letter.”
“I’ll read it in a minute,” said Jim, “but first let me say that this grows out of a talk between Mr. Cornish and myself. Hinckley and Barslow know that there have been differences between us here for some time.”
“Quite natural,” said Harper; “according to all the experience-tables, you ought to have had a fight somewhere in the crowd long before this.”
“Mr. Cornish,” went on Mr. Elkins, “has favored the policy of converting our holdings into cash, and letting the obligations we have floated stand solely on the assets by which they are secured. The rest of us have foreseen such rapid liquidation, as a certain result of such a policy, that not only would our town receive a blow from which it could never recover, but the investment world would suffer in the collapse.”
“I should say so,” said Harper; “we’ll have to look closely to the suicide clause in our policies held in New England, if that takes place!”
“Well,” said Jim, continuing, “last Tuesday the matter came to an issue between us, and some plain talk was indulged in; perhaps the language was a little strong on my part, and Mr. Cornish considered himself aggrieved, and said, among other things, that he, for one, would not submit to extinguishment, and he would show me that I could not go on in opposition to his wishes.”
“What did you say to that?” asked Hinckley.
“I informed him,” said Jim, “that I was from Missouri, or words to that effect; and that my own impression was, the majority of the stock in our concerns would control. My present view is that he’s showing me.”
A ghost of a smile went round at this, and Jim began reading Cornish’s letter.
“Events of the recent past convince me,” the secessionist had written, “that no good can comefrom the further continuance of our syndicate. I therefore propose to sell all my interest in our various properties to the other members, and to retire. Should you care to consider such a thing, I am prepared to make you an alternative offer, to buy your interests. As the purchase of three shares by one is a heavier load than the taking over of one share by three, I should expect to buy at a lower proportional price than I should be willing to sell for. As the management of our enterprises seems to have abandoned the tried principles of business, for some considerations the precise nature of which I am not acute enough to discern, and as a sale to me would balk the very benevolent purposes recently avowed by you, I assume that I shall not be called upon to make an offer.
“There is at least one person among those to whom this is addressed who knows that in beginning our operations in Lattimore it was understood that we should so manage affairs as to promote and take advantage of a bulge in values, and then pull out with a profit. Just what may be his policy when this reaches him I cannot, after my experience with his ability as a lightning change artist, venture to predict; but my last information leads me to believe that he is championing the utopian plan of running the business, not only past the bulge, but into the slump. I, for one, will not permit my fortune to be jeopardized by so palpable a piece of perfidy.
“I may be allowed to add that I am prepared to take such measures as may seem to my legal advisers best to protect my interests. I am assured that thefunds of one corporation will not be permitted by the courts to be donated to the bolstering up of another, over the protest of a minority stockholder. You may confidently assume that this advice will be tested to the utmost before the acts now threatened are permitted to be actually done.
“I attach hereto a schedule of our holdings, with the amount of my interest in each, and the price I will take. I trust that I may have an answer to this at your earliest convenience. I beg to add that any great delay in answering will be taken by me as a refusal on your part to do anything, and I shall act accordingly.
“Very respectfully,“J. Bedford Cornish.”
“Huh!” ejaculated Harper, “would he do it, d’ye think?”
“He’s a very resolute man,” said Hinckley.
“He calculates,” said Jim, “that if he begins operations, he can have receiverships and things of that kind in his interest, and in that way swipe the salvage. On the other hand, he must know that his loss would be proportioned to ours, and would be great. He’s sore, and that counts for something. I figure that the chances are seven out of ten that he’ll do it—and that’s too strong a game for us to go up against.”
“What would be the worst that could happen if he began proceedings?” said I.
“The worst,” answered Jim laconically. “I don’t say, you know,” he went on after a pause, “thatCornish hasn’t some reason for his position. From a cur’s standpoint he’s entirely right. We didn’t anticipate the big way in which things have worked out here, nor how deep our roots would strike; and we did intend to cash in when the wave came. And a cur can’t understand our position in the light of these developments. He can’t see that in view of the number of people sucked down with her when a great ship like ours sinks, nobody but a murderer would needlessly see her wrecked. What he proposes is to scuttle her. Sell to him! I’d as soon sell Vassar College to Brigham Young!”
This tragic humorousness had the double effect of showing us the dilemma, and taking the edge off the horror of it.
“If it were my case,” said Harper, “I’d call him. I don’t believe he’ll smash things; but you fellows know each other best, and I’m here to give what aid and comfort I can, and not to direct. I accept your judgment as to the danger. Now let’s do business. I’ve got to get back to Chicago by the next train, and I want to go feeling that my stock in the Grain Belt Trust Company is an asset and not a liability. Let’s do business.”
“As for going back on the next train,” said Mr. Elkins, “you’ve got another guess coming: this one was wrong. As for doing business, the first thing in my opinion is to examine the items of this bill of larceny, and see about scaling them down.”
“We might be able,” said I, “to turn over properties instead of cash, for some of it.”
Elkins appointed Harper and Hinckley to do thenegotiating with Cornish. It was clear, he said, that neither he nor I was the proper person to act. They soon went out on their mission and left me with Jim.
“Do you see what a snowfall we’ve had?” he asked. “It fell deeper and deeper, until I thought it would never stop. No such sleighing for years. And funny as it may seem, it was that that brought on this crisis. Josie and I went sleighing, and the hound was furious. Next time we met he started this business going.”
I was studying the schedule, and said nothing. After a while he began talking again, in a slow manner, as if the words came lagging behind a labored train of thought.
“Remember the mill the Dutchman had?... Ground salt, and nothing but salt ... Ours won’t grind anything but mortgages ... Well, the hair of the dog must cure the bite ... Fight fire with fire ...Similia similibus curantur... We can’t trade horses, nor methods, in the middle of the ford.... The mill has got to go on grinding mortgages until we’re carried over; and Hinckley and the Grain Belt Trust must float ’em. Of course the infernal mill ground salt until it sent the whole shooting-match to the bottom of the sea; but you mustn’t be misled by analogies. The Dutchman hadn’t any good old Al to lose telegrams in an absent-minded way where they would do the most good, and sell railroads to old man Pendleton ... As for us, it’s the time-worn case of electing between the old sheep and the lamb. We’ll take the adult mutton, and go the whole hog ... And if we lose,the tail’ll have to go with the hide.... But we won’t lose, Al, we won’t lose. There isn’t treason enough in all the storehouses of hell to balk or defeat us. It’s a question of courage and resolution and confidence, and imparting all those feelings to every one else. There isn’t malice enough, even if it were a whole pack, instead of one lone hyena, to put out the fires in those furnaces over there, or stop the wheels in that flume, or make our streets grow grass. The things we’ve built are going to stay built, and the word of Lattimore will stand!”
“My hand on that!” said I.
There was little in the way of higgling: for Cornish proudly refused much to discuss matters; and when we found what we must pay to prevent the explosion, it sickened us. Jim strongly urged upon Harper the taking of Cornish’s shares.
“No,” said Harper, “the Frugality and Indemnity is too good a thing to drop; and I can’t carry both. But if you can show me how, within a short time, you can pay it back, I’ll find you the cash you lack.”
We could not wait for the two millions from Pendleton; and the interim must be bridged over by any desperate means. We took, for the moment only, the funds advanced through Harper; and Cornish took his price.
The day after Harper went away we were busy all day long, drawing notes and mortgages. Every unincumbered piece of our property, the orts, dregs, and offcast of our operations, were made the subjects of transfers to the rag-tag and bobtail of Lattimoresociety. A lot worth little or nothing was conveyed to Tom, Dick, or Harry for a great nominal price, and a mortgage for from two-thirds to three-fourths of the sum given back by this straw-man purchaser. Our mill was grinding mortgages.
I do not expect that any one will say that this course was justified or justifiable; but, if anything can excuse it, the terrible difficulty of our position ought to be considered in mitigation, if not excuse. Pressed upon from without, and wounded by blows dealt in the dark from within; with dreadful failure threatening, and with brilliant success, and the averting of wide-spread calamity as the reward of only a little delay, we used the only expedient at hand, and fought the battle through. We were caught in the mighty swirl of a modern business maelstrom, and, with unreasoning reflexes, clutched at man or log indifferently, as we felt the waters rising over us; and broadcast all over the East were sown the slips of paper ground out by our mill, through the spout of the Grain Belt Trust Company; and wherever they fell they were seized upon by the banks, which had through years of experience learned to look upon our notes and bonds as good.
“Past the bulge,” quoted Jim, “and into the slump! We’ll see what the whelp says when he finds that, in spite of all his attempts to scuttle, there isn’t going to be any slump!”
By which observation it will appear that, as our operations began to bring in returns in almost their old abundance, our courage rose. At the very last, some bank failures in New York, and a bad day on’Change in Chicago, cut off the stream, and we had to ask Harper to carry over a part of the Frugality and Indemnity loan until we could settle with Pendleton; but this was a small matter running into only five figures.
Perhaps it was because we saw only a part of the situation that our courage rose. We saw things at Lattimore with vivid clearness. But we failed to see that like centers of stress were sprinkled all over the map, from ocean to ocean; that in the mountains of the South were the Lattimores of iron, steel, coal, and the winter-resort boom; and in the central valleys were other Lattimores like ours; that among the peaks and canyons further west were the Lattimores of mines; that along the Pacific were the Lattimores of harbors and deep-water terminals; that every one of these Lattimores had in the East and in Europe its clientage of Barr-Smiths, Wickershams, and Dorrs, feeding the flames of the fever with other people’s money; and that in every village and factory, town and city, where wealth had piled up, seeking investment, were the “captives below decks,” who, in the complex machinery of this end-of-the-century life, were made or marred by the same influences which made or marred us.
The low area had swept across the seas, and now rested on us. The clouds were charged with the thunder and lightning of disaster. Almost any accidental disturbance might precipitate a crash. Had we known all this, as we now know it, the consciousness of the tragical race we were running to reach the harbor of a consummated sale to Pendleton mighthave paralyzed our efforts. Sometimes one may cross in the dark, on narrow footing, a chasm the abyss of which, if seen, would dizzily draw one down to destruction.