The Winning of Barbara Worth

by Harold Bell Wright

  CHAPTER XI.

  ABE LEE RESIGNS.

  In obedience to its master passion--Good Business--the race now beganpouring its life into the barren wastes of The King's Basin Desert.

  In the city by the sea at the end of the Southwestern and Continentalthere was a suite of offices with real gold letters on the ground-glassdoors richly spelling "The King's Basin Land and Irrigation Company."Behind these doors there was real mahogany furniture, solid,substantial and rich; a high safe; many attractive maps; and agentleman who--never having traveled west of Buffalo before--couldanswer with authority every conceivable question relating to thereclamation of the arid lands of the great West. When there were nomore questions to ask he could still tell you many things of thewonderland of wealth that was being opened to the public by theCompany, demonstrating thus beyond the possibility of a doubt how manytimes a dollar could be multiplied.

  From this office went forth to the advertising departments of themagazines and papers, skillfully prepared copy, which in turn wasfollowed by pamphlets, circulars and letters innumerable. In one room acompany of clerks and book-keepers and accountants pored over theirtasks at desks and counters. In another a squad of stenographers filledthe air with the sound of their type-writers. Through the doors of thedifferent rooms passed an endless procession; men from the front withthe marks of the desert sun on their faces--engineers, superintendents,bosses, messengers, agents--servants of the Company; laborers of everysort and nationality came in answer to the cry: "Men wanted!"; specialsalesmen from foundry, factory and shop drawn by prospective largesales of machinery, implements and supplies; land-hungry men fromeverywhere seeking information and opportunity for investment.

  At Deep Well (which is no well at all) on the rim of the Basin,trainloads of supplies, implements, machinery, lumber and constructionmaterial, horses, mules and men were daily side-tracked and unloaded onthe desert sands. Overland travelers gazed in startled wonder at thescene of stirring activity that burst so suddenly upon them in themidst of the barren land through which they had ridden for hourswithout sight of a human habitation or sign of man. The great mountainof goods, piled on the dun plain; the bands of horses and mules; thecamp-fires; the blankets spread on the bare ground; the men moving hereand there in seemingly hopeless confusion; all looked so ridiculouslyout of place and so pitifully helpless.

  Every hour companies of men with teams and vehicles set out from thecamp to be swallowed up in the silent distance. Night and day the hugemountain of goods was attacked by the freighters who, with their bigwagons drawn by six, eight, twelve, or more, mules, appearedmysteriously out of the weird landscape as if they were spiritsmaterialized by some mighty unknown genii of the desert. Their heavywagons loaded, their water barrels filled, they turned again to theunseen realm from which they had been summoned. The sound of the loudvoices of the drivers, the creaking of the wagons, the jingle ofharness, the shot-like reports of long whips died quickly away; while,to the vision, the outfits passed slowly--fading, dissolving in theirgreat clouds of dust, into the land of mystery.

  In Rubio City Jefferson Worth continued on his machine-like way at thePioneer Bank, apparently paying no heed to the movement that offeredsuch opportunities for profitable investment. Barbara rarely spoke nowof the work that had been so dear to her, nor did she ever ride to thefoot of the hill on the Mesa to look over the Desert. The Seer was inthe northern railroad work again, but Abe Lee, with Tex and Pat andPablo Garcia, had gone with the beginning of the stream of life thatwas pouring into the new country.

  True to the far-reaching plans of the Company, at the largest and mostcentral of the supply camps, located in the very heart of The King'sBasin, the townsite of Kingston was laid out, and even in the days whenevery drop of water was hauled from three to ten miles town lots wereoffered for sale and sold to eager speculators.

  A year from the beginning of the work at the intake at the river, waterwas turned into the canals. With the coming of the water, Kingstonchanged, almost between suns, from a rude supply camp to an establishedtown with post-office, stores, hotel, blacksmith shop, livery stables,all in buildings more or less substantial. Most substantial of all wasthe building owned and occupied by the offices of the Company.

  With the coming of the water also, the stream of human life that flowedinto the Basin was swollen by hundreds of settlers driven by the masterpassion--Good Business--to toil and traffic, to build the city, tosubdue and cultivate the land and thus to realize the Seer's dream,while the engineer himself was banished from the work to which he hadgiven his life. Every sunrise saw new tent-houses springing up on theclaims of the settlers around the Company town and new buildingsbeginning in the center of it all--Kingston. Every sunset saw miles ofnew ditches ready to receive the water from the canal and acres of newland cleared and graded for irrigation.

  Thus it was that afternoon when, from his office window, Mr. Burk, theGeneral Manager of The King's Basin Land and Irrigation Company,watched a freighter with a twelve-mule load of goods stop his teamdirectly across the street in front of the largest and most importantgeneral store in the Basin.

  Deck Jordan, the merchant, came out and the Manager easily heard thedriver's loud voice: "Jim'll be along in 'bout another hour, I reckon.We aim to get the rest in two more trips."

  "Six twelve-mule loads in that shipment," thought the Company'smanager; "and that fellow set up business with a two-horse load ofstuff!"

  An empty wagon was driven up to the store and the General Managerrecognized in the driver one of the Company's men from a grading campsix miles away; while another wagon--a Company wagon also--nearlyfilled with supplies moved away toward the open desert.

  Deck's business was assuming quite respectable proportions thought Mr.Burk. And Deck's business was mostly with employes of the Company.Taking a cigar from a box on his desk, Mr. Burk scratched a match onthe heel of his shoe and, leaning back in his office chair, continuedthinking. The Manager of The King's Basin Land and Irrigation Companywas paid to think. The Company hired Mr. Burk's peculiar talent even asthey hired the physical strength of their laborers or the professionalskill of their engineers.

  As he meditated, the Manager still watched from the window theactivities of the street. Soon from the open desert, beyond the lastnew building down the street, he saw a horseman approaching. At an easyswinging lope the rider came straight toward the Company's headquartersand, as he drew near, the Manager recognized the chief engineer.Greeting the man at the open window as he passed, Willard Holmesdismounted at the entrance of the building and, going first to thewater tank, soon appeared in the doorway of the Manager's room. Theengineer's clothes from boots to Stetson were covered with dust and hisface was deeply bronzed by the months in the open air.

  Turning from the window Mr. Burk held out the box of cigars.

  "No thanks," said the Chief with a smile. "I'm hot as a lime kiln now.Wait until after supper."

  Throwing his hat and gloves on the floor, he dropped into a chair witha sigh of relief at the grateful coolness of the room after hours ofriding in the dazzling light of the desert sun.

  The other, returning the box to its place, tipped back in his chair andelevated his well-dressed feet to his desk and, with his cigar in onecorner of his mouth and his head cocked suggestively to one side,looked his companion over with a critical smile. "I say, Holmes, howwould you like to be in little old New York this evening?"

  At the question and the manner of the speaker the engineer held up hishands with a motion of protest as he commanded, in tragic voice: "Getthee behind me, Satan!" Then, at the Manager's laugh, he addedseriously: "New York is all right, Burk, but I guess I can manage tostick it out here a while longer."

  Burk looked at the engineer with the same thoughtful expression thathad marked his face when he watched the wagon-load of supplies beforethe store across the street. "I have noticed that you show symptoms ofslowly developing an interest in your job," he murmured. "You were atthe river yesterday."

  "No;
I was at Number Five Heading. Abe Lee will be in from the intakethis afternoon. I was there day before yesterday."

  "How is the little old Colorado behaving herself?"

  "All right so far. Our work is all a guess though. There is not a scrapof data to go on, you know." There was a hint of anxiety in the chiefengineer's answer.

  "I suppose you find the talkative Abe cheerfully optimistic about thefuture of our structures as usual?"

  Holmes did not smile at the jesting tone of the Manager. "Lee iscertainly doing all he can to make things safe. He is a fiend forthoroughness, and between you and me, Burk, the Company _ought_ tospend more money on that intake at least. A few more thousands wouldmake it what it should be."

  The man who was paid to think held out a hand protestingly. "My dearboy, how many times have we gone over that? The Company will spend justwhat they must spend to get this scheme going and not a cent more.Later, when the business justifies, they will improve the system. Don'tget yourself sidetracked by the notion that this whole project is forthe benefit of the dear people and that the Company is made up ofbenevolent old gentlemen, who have nothing to do with their wealth butpromote philanthropic enterprises. You should know your Uncle Jimbetter. Dividends, my boy, dividends; that's what we're all here for,and you can't afford to forget it. By the way, did you have any dinnerto-day?"

  "I struck Camp Seven on the Alamitos at noon."

  "Hum-m. Sour bread, sow-belly, frijoles? Or was it canned corn? I say,old man, do you remember some of the places where we used to dine athome--flowers and music, and table linen, and real dishes, and waiterswith real food, and women--God bless 'em!--real women? What would yougive to-night, Holmes, for something to eat that had never beenpreserved, embalmed, cured, dried or tinned? It's not a dream offairyland, my boy; there are such places in the world and there aresuch things to eat. Come, what do you say? Where shall we dine tonightand what will you have?"

  "You fiend!" growled Holmes. "You know I'd sell my soul this minute forone good red apple."

  Lowering his feet to the floor and rising, the Manager of The King'sBasin Land and Irrigation Company crossed the room stealthily andcarefully closed the door. Then taking a bunch of keys from his pocket,with an air of great secrecy he unlocked a drawer in his desk, pulledit open and took out--_an apple_.

  The Company's chief engineer fell on the Manager with an exclamation ofamazement and delight.

  "Really," said Burk as he watched the fruit disappear, "your child-likepleasure almost justifies my crime. I even feel repaid for myself-denial. There were only three in the basket."

  "How did you do it?" asked Holmes between bites, gazing at the apple inhis hand as though to devour the treat with his eyes also, therebydoubling the pleasure.

  "It was one of our dearly beloved prospective settlers," the thoughtfulManager explained with an air of conscious merit. "He came in fromsomewhere yesterday to spy out the land and, being a prudent andthrifty farmer, he possesses, or is possessed by, a prudent and thriftywife. Said wife fitted out said farmer for his journey into this farcountry with a market basket of provisions. Home-made provisions,Willard, my son; _home made!_ A whole basket full! He had one feed leftand was finishing it out there on the sidewalk when I returned fromwhat we of this benighted land call dinner. How could I help looking. Iwatched him devour the leg of a chicken. I watched him eat real breadwith jelly on it. Then I caught sight of three apples--_three!_ Holmes,such wealth is criminal. I considered--I became an anarchist. He was abig husky and I dared not assault him, so I talked--Lord forgiveme!--how I talked. I offered confidential advice, I conjured up visionsof wealth untold. I laid him under a spell and gently led him and hisbasket into the office even as he finished the pie. I showed him maps;I gave him a cigar; I urged him to leave his basket and satchel here inmy private office for safe-keeping while he looked around. Gladly heaccepted my invitation. His confidence was pathetic. How could thepoor, trusting farmer know that I was ready, if necessary, to murderhim for his fortune? When he had gone I locked the door and I--I--Ionly took two, Holmes; I dared not take them all, for he was big andrough, as I say. But I could not believe that a man with such wealthcould miss a part of it."

  "But you said you ate two," said the engineer severely, taking anotherlong, lingering bite.

  "I did," returned the Manager, with awful solemnity. "When thattrusting but husky farmer returned later for his possessions he thankedme many times for my kindness while I trembled with the consciousnessof my guilt, assuring him that it was no trouble at all--no trouble atall. And then--just as I felt sure that he was going and was beginningto breathe easier--he stopped and fumbled around in his basket. Myheart stood still. 'Hannah put some fine apples in my dinner,' hemuttered. 'I thought maybe you might like some. Reckon I must a-et 'emafter all. I thought there was--no, by jocks! here she is.' Holmes, asI live he handed me that other apple. It was positively uncanny. I wasspeechless. Not until he was gone did I realize that it was prophetic.In like manner shall the settlers, the farmers, save this land and usfrom destruction."

  "It's Good Business," returned Holmes. "It exactly illustrates yourmethods of dealing with the confiding public."

  "Humph!" grunted the other. "I observe that you do not hesitate toenjoy the fruits of my financiering."

  A knock at the door prevented the engineer's reply.

  "Come in!" called Burk.

  The door opened and Abe Lee stood on the threshold. The two men greetedthe surveyor cordially but with that subtle touch in their voices thathinted at consciousness of superior position and authority.

  Abe addressed himself directly to his Chief, saying: "We finished atthe intake last night, sir, and moved to Dry River Heading this morningas you directed."

  "You left everything at the river in good shape, of course?"

  The surveyor did not answer. The tobacco and paper that, in his longfingers, were assuming the form of a cigarette seemed to demand hisundivided attention. Burk was thoughtfully watching the two men. At thecritical moment he handed Abe a match. From the cloud of smoke Abespoke again. "The outfit will be ready to begin work at the Headingto-morrow morning."

  Before Holmes could speak the Manager said: "You evidently still think,Lee, that the work at the river is not satisfactory. Are you stillpredicting that our intake will go out with the next high water?"

  "I don't know whether the next high water will do it or not. The RioColorado alone won't hurt us, but when the Gila and the Little Coloradogo on the war-path and come down on top of a high Colorado flood you'llcatch hell. It may be this season; it may be next. It depends on thesnowfall in the upper countries and the weather in the spring, but it_has_ come and it will come again."

  "How do you know? There have been no records kept and no surveys. Wehave no data."

  "There's data enough. The Colorado leaves her own record. I know thecountry; I know what the river has done and I know what the Indianshave told me."

  At the surveyor's words his Chief stirred impatiently and the Manageranswered: "But we can't spend twenty or thirty thousand dollars on amere guess at what _may_ happen, Lee. When the country is fairly wellsettled and business justifies, we will put in a new intake. In themeantime those structures will have to do. The K. B. L. and I. is notin business for glory, you know." Abe spoke softly from a cloud ofsmoke. "And are you explaining this situation to the people who arecoming here by the hundreds to settle? Do they understand the chancesthey are taking when they buy water rights and go ahead to developtheir ranches?"

  "Certainly not. If we talked risks no one would come in. The Companymust protect its interests."

  "Who protects the settlers' interests?"

  The Manager stiffened. "I don't recognize your right to criticise theCompany's policy, Lee. Mr. Holmes is our chief engineer and he assuresme that our structures are as good as they can be made with the moneyat our disposal. We can only carry out the policies of the Company andwe are responsible to them for the money we spend. You have noresponsibility in t
he matter whatever."

  "Oh, hell, Burk," drawled Abe, though his eyes contradicted flatly hissoft tone. "There's no occasion for you to climb so high up thatladder. You've been a corporation mouthpiece so long you have no moresoul than the Company." He turned to his Chief. "I left Andy in chargeat camp. He understands that I will not be back. I dropped myresignation in your box in the office as I came in. Adios."

  Leaving the office, Abe walked slowly down the street through the heartof the Company's little town. On every hand he saw the work that wasbeing wrought in the Desert. There were business blocks and houses inevery stage of building from the new-laid foundation to the moving-inof the tenants. The air rang with sound of hammer and saw. Teams andwagons from the ranches lined the street. The very faces of the peoplehe met glowed with enthusiasm, while determination and purpose wereexpressed in their very movements as they hurried by.

  A mile west of town the surveyor stopped on the bridge that spanned themain canal. He paused to look around. He saw the country already dottedwith the white tent-houses of the settlers, and even as he looked threenew wagons, loaded with supplies and implements, passed, bound for theclaims of the owners. Under his feet the water from the distant riverran strongly. To the west was a grading camp on the line of a Companyditch; to the south was another. Far to the north and east, along therim of the Basin, he knew the railroad was bringing other pioneers bythe hundreds. He drew a deep breath and, taking off his sombrero, drankin the scene. How he loved it all! It was the Seer's dream, but theSeer could have no part in it. It was Barbara's Desert, but Barbara wasshut out--exiled. It was his work, but he was powerless to do it. TheSeer had told him to stay for his work's sake. He smiled grimly,remembering the Manager's words. Barbara had told him to stay, but thegirl knew nothing of conditions--how could she know? Jefferson Worthhad told him to stay. Why? Barbara, in her letters, never spoke of thework. The Seer seldom wrote; Jefferson Worth, never. Every month thesituation had grown more unbearable. Burk might insist that he had noresponsibility and Holmes might argue that they could only do theirbest with what funds the Company would supply. Abe was not of theirschool. Well, he was out of it now for good. He was not the kind of aman the Company wanted.

  Returning to town he had supper at the little shack restaurant and,going to the tent house owned by himself and two brother-surveyors thatthey might have a place to sleep when in town, he gathered his fewpossessions together in readiness for departure in the morning.

  When the brief task was finished and he had written a note to his twofriends, who were away, he went out again on the main street, becausethere was nothing else to do. It was evening now and the usual crowdwas gathered in front of the post-office to watch the arrival of thestage, the one event of never-failing interest to these hardy pioneers.In the throng there were teamsters, laborers, ranchers, mechanics,real-estate agents, speculators, surveyors--gathered from camp andfield and town. Some were expecting letters from the home folks in theworld outside; a few were looking for friends among the passengers.Many were there, as was Abe, because it was the point of interest. Allwere roughly clad, marked by the semi-tropical desert wind and sun.

  It was among such men as these that Abe Lee's life had been spent. Suchscenes as these were home scenes to him. In a peculiar way, through theSeer and Barbara, the work that these men were doing was dear to him.He felt that he was being cast out of his own place. As he passedthrough the throng Abe heard always the same topic of conversation: thework--the work--the work. News to these men meant more miles of canalfinished, new ditches dug, more land leveled and graded, new settlerslocated. The surveyor thought of the future of these people, givenwholly into the hands of the Company; of the men in the East, who knewnothing of their hardships but who would force them to pay royaltribute out of the fruits of their toil; of how, even then, they wereincreasing the value of the Company property.

  "Here she comes!" cried someone, and all eyes were turned to see thestage swinging down the street. Abe drew back a little--to the thinedge of the crowd; he was expecting neither letters nor friends. Thesix broncos were brought to a stand in the midst of the crowd, the mailbag was tossed to the post-master and the passengers began climbingdown from their seats.

  As the last man rose from his place he stood for a moment in a stoopedposition, gripping with each hand one of the standards that supportedthe canvas top of the vehicle. Looking out thus over the crowd heseemed to be gathering data for an estimate of the population before hefelt cautiously with his foot for the step.

  Abe Lee started forward with an exclamation.

  It was Jefferson Worth!