“I see.”
“Outside of their business peculiarities,’ continued the colonel,” both these men possess many good qualities. I don’t want to give you a wrong impression of them. Wilder is really kind and accommodating. It is his nature to want to please people and to stand well in popular opinion. Easton honestly believes that he is a Christian gentleman, and he is said to be a good father and husband. But in their dealings with the cottagers these partners have contracted a sort of moral color-blindness; they can’t distinguish their own rights from those of others.”
“I believe I understand you. Good morning, Colonel.”
“Good morning, Mr. Jarrod.”
Saturday evening Jarrod attended the meeting. It was held in a big, shedlike structure in the woods called the “Auditorium,” where divine services were held on Sundays. All Tamawaca was there, for the men took their wives to enjoy the “fun.” It was the only occasion during the whole year when the cottagers got together, and here they were accustomed to frankly air their grievances and then go home and forget them.
On the platform sat a dignified, pleasant faced old gentleman who nodded courteously to each arrival.
At the secretary’s desk was a little man intently perusing a newspaper.
When all had assembled the chairman arose and rapped gently upon the rostrum.
“The meeting will please come to order,” he said, and a sudden hush fell upon the place.
“I believe the first thing in order is for the secretary to read the minutes of the last meeting.”
The secretary glanced over his paper.
“I’ve mislaid ‘em somewhere,” he said; “but they don’t amount to anything, anyhow.”
The chairman looked reproachful when the meeting joyously applauded this announcement.
“Ahem!” he said. “Are there any remarks?”
A tall, thin man rose from the benches and cleared his throat. Instantly every eye was upon him. Someone beside Jarrod laughed, and the lawyer turned around to find Geoge B. Still seated there.
“La — dies and gen — tle — men!” began the orator. “We are gathered ‘together this evening to — ah — to meet one another. The — er — reason we are so — ah — so gathered together in one meeting is to — er — consider why we should be — er — should be brought in contact one with another for the public welfare of Tamawaca this gathering!”
As he paused impressively Geo. B. murmured: “Gather up the sands from the s — e — a sho — o — r — e!”
“I take it,” continued the speaker, raising his voice aggressively, “that we are met here with a purpose; I may say — er — an object in here gathering together. It is my earnest wish, ladies and gentlemen, that this — er — purpose may be fulfilled!”
He sat down amid a round of applause, mainly bestowed because he sat down. But he held himself erect and didn’t lean against the back of the bench for a good five minutes.
“I call for the reports of the committees,” announced the chairman. A man arose and said: “The committee on water begs to report that it has had the water analyzed by a competent chemist and found the said water perfectly pure.”
Here a gentleman with a ruddy face jumped up and asked:
“Is the committee referring to the bathing water?”
“I refer to the drinking water,” said the committee.
“Ah,” ejaculated the red-faced man, a total lack of interest in his tone.
Little Stakes jumped up. “I want to know why the electric lights go out every night at ten o’clock,” he shouted, excitedly. “I want to know why we pay — ”
“Look here — you’re out of order!” cried the chairman, “So are the lights!” yelled Stakes; but he sat down.
“I call for the report of the committee on lights,” continued the chairman, in deference to the protest.
There was an intense silence.
“The committee on lights will please report,” said the chairman, looking closely at Geo. B. Still.
The little fat man slowly arose.
“Am I the committee on lights?” he enquired.
“You are, sir.”
“Are you sure?”
“Perfectly sure, Mr. Still. I remember Mr. Bennett nominated you and there were several seconds.”
“Oh. The minutes being lost, I supposed the seconds were lost, too.”
“You were mistaken, Mr. Still.”
“Well, the committee on lights, Mr. Chairman and ladies and gentlemen, finds that we are such good livers we haven’t the gall to make a report.” And Mr. Still subsided slowly into his seat.
“Just like a lady’s gown,” said a wag, jocosely: “en traile.”
“I’d like to know,” roared a man on the back row of benches, “if the street lights burn till twelve o’clock.”
“Can’t say,” replied Geo. B. “I don’t sit up to watch ‘em.”
“I move the report of the committee on lights and livers be accepted,” said the wag.
The chairman gravely put the motion and it carried.
“How about the treasurer’s report?” asked some one. “Did the secretary mislay that, too?”
The secretary glared at the speaker. Then he laid aside his newspaper, took an old envelope from his pocket, and read a memorandum evidently penciled upon the back of it.
“Total receipts,” said he, “one dollar and eighty-nine cents. Total expenditures, two cents. Total cash balance on hand, one dollar and eighty-seven cents. Respectfully submitted.”
“What shall we do with the report?” asked the chairman.
“I want to know where that two cents went to,” cried Mr. Calker, the energetic gentleman on the back bench. “I demand an itemized report!”
The secretary and treasurer swore under his breath — or almost under his breath, while the audience laughed.
“The two cents in question,” he shouted, angrily, “was expended for one postage stamp issued by the United States of America, on which there was no rebate; and the stamp was thereafter attached to a letter to Mr? Calker asking him to pay up.his back dues to this Association — which letter was absolutely disregarded.”
“Then that expenditure was a misappropriation of public funds,” said Mr. Calker, in a satisfied tone.
“Move the treasurer’s apology be accepted,” said a voice.
“Move we adjourn,” said another voice.
“Wait — wait!” cried the chairman. “We must elect our officers for the coming year.”
“Move the same officers be continued,” said the last speaker.
“Second the emotion,” said the tall man.
It was carried, unanimously but without emotion.
Then Jarrod arose to his feet, to the evident surprise of the assemblage.
“Mr. President and ladies and gentlemen,” he began, in his rich, resonant voice.
The president bowed.
“Mr. — er — er” —
“Jarrod.”
“Mr. Jarrod has the floor.”
“I am a newcomer here,” said Jarrod, “and have recently bought the cottage known as ‘Lake View.’ With that property I acquired an equity in all the parks and highways of Tamawaca; but I find that some one has usurped portions of those parks and highways and erected cottages and other buildings upon them. Those buildings must be removed, and the public lands be restored to the public. I move you that your president be instructed to appoint a committee of five cottage owners, who will be authorized to take any necessary legal steps to enforce the removal of all buildings now upon public grounds, and the restoration of all public lands illegally sold and deeded to individuals.”
Had a bomb been exploded in their midst the cottagers could not have been more astonished. They gaped at Jarrod in open-mouthed amazement, and were silent as bridge players struggling for the odd.
“Second the emotion,” suddenly yelled Geo. B.
The chairman wiped his brow and looked worried. He repeated the motion and as
ked for remarks. No one responded. Then he put the motion to vote, and the people shouted “Aye!” with an enthusiasm the old Auditorium had never heard before. For dimly they realized that at last a leader had come among them, and proposed to do the thing they should have done themselves years before.
“I appoint on this committee,” said the chairman, “Mr. Jarrod; Colonel Kerry; Judge Toodles; Mr. Wright and Mr. Teekey.”
“Move we adjourn!” cried a voice.
This time the motion carried, and the meeting adjourned.
CHAPTER VIII.
SOMETHING DOING.
Wilder couldn’t sleep that night.
“Something queer happened at the meeting,” he told Nora. “I can’t understand exactly what it means, just yet; but I’ll find out before I need another shave.”
So on Sunday afternoon he walked up to Lake View and interviewed Mr. Jarrod as follows:
“Tell me, dear boy, what’s the joke? It was awfully funny, and I laughed as much as anybody. But what’s your idea? Just to guy the people?”
“My idea,” said Jarrod, calmly, “is to sue you and Easton in the courts and make you vacate wherever you’ve taken possession of public property.”
“What! Sue me!”
“Exactly; you and Easton.”
Wilder’s merry face grew thoughtful.
“Do you mean it?” he asked, a bit uneasily.
“Certainly.”
Wilder thought again. Then he laughed.
“Why, it would ruin old Easton,” he remarked, cheerfully; “ruin him entirely. But he deserves it. I’d like to see his face when he has to give up! It’s what he’s always been afraid of — that people would some day wake up and make it hot for him.”
“How about yourself?” asked Jarrod.
“Oh, it would ruin me, too, if you carried out the plan,” admitted Wilder. “But you won’t carry it out.”
“Why not?’
“Because you can do better.”
“In what way?”
“See here, Mr. Jarrod,” drawing his chair closer; “I take it we’re friends, and can talk this over confidentially.
What Tamawaca needs ain’t to get back the few lots we’ve built on, but to improve what there is left. We need new walks and driveways and a lot of public improvements. We need to clear up the rubbish and make things look decent. We need a new hotel, and a lot of other things to please the people and make ‘em happier and more comfortable.”
“That’s true,” said Jarrod. “But why, as one of the owners of Macatawa, haven’t you attended to these things?”
“Me? How could I? I’ve only got a third interest, and the man don’t live that can wring a nickel out of Easton for public improvements. I’ve quarrelled with him and fought with him for years to try to get something done; but he just won’t. Says he hasn’t got the money; and perhaps that’s true, for we lose money here every year.”
“Oh, you do, eh?”
“Of course. Everything the company owns is run at a loss — electric light plant, water works, ferries, hotel, boat liveries — everything! By hard work Nora and I manage to make a bare living from our little mercantile enterprises and the cottages we own and rent — just a bare living. But the company property is a dead one. If things were kept up better we might sell some more lots, and get more people here, and so make a little money; but Easton don’t see it that way.”
“How does he see it?”
“Why, he just wants to putter ‘round and lose money. I’ve tried to buy him up, so as to make something of the place myself; but he won’t sell. That is, he wouldn’t sell before this. But I imagine he would now.”
“Because if we sue him he will lose it all?”
“You’ve hit the nail on the head! Listen, dear boy: you take your committee to Easton tomorrow and threaten to sue him if he won’t sell out for — say, er — thirty thousand dollars. That’s all the property’s worth. He’ll sell, or my name ain’t Wilder. Get an option to purchase within thirty days.”
“And then?”
Wilder turned half around and gave a solemn wink.
“Then if the cottagers can’t raise the money, I’ll raise it for ‘em!”
“Good!” exclaimed Jarrod. “I think they’ll raise it.”
“And I think they won’t,” returned Wilder, smiling sweetly. “They’re a bunch of oysters. Whenever I try to raise a few hundreds by subscription to build a new walk, they throw me down.”
“Because it is your property,” suggested Jarrod. “You and Easton owe a duty to the cottagers to keep the walks in repair at your own expense.”
“Well, it’ll all be different if we can get the old man to sell out.”
“Will you assist us?” asked the lawyer.
“Sure thing. I’ll agree to take ten thousand for my third, although it cost me a good deal more years ago. That’ll leave twenty thousand for Easton’s share, and it’s all he deserves. But never mind the details. You just get that option for thirty thousand, and the game’s won.”
“I’ll try,” promised Jarrod.
Nora saw that her better half wore a broad smile when he returned to her.
“What’s the result, presh?” she asked — the endearing term being a contraction of “precious.”
“The result hasn’t happened yet,” he answered, evasively; “but when it does my dream will come true, little wife, and I’ll own Tamawaca.”
“That’s nice,” she replied. Then, as he turned toward the door: “Are you going out again?”
“Why, I promised Nancy Todd that I’d stay with her father while she went to Kochton on an errand,” he said, resuming his usual cheery manner. “Old Todd’s all crippled up with rheumatism and helpless as an infant in arms. Nancy hasn’t any one to leave him with, so I told her I’d look after the old man myself.”
“I’m glad you did, presh,” said the little woman, earnestly. “It’ll do Nancy a world of good to get away from him for a time. She’s all used up with the nursing and worry. And while you’re over at Todd’s I’ll drop in and see poor Mrs. Jones, who is sick in bed and needs cheering up. We’ll both be back by supper-time, I guess.”
That was the way with the Wilders. Sharks in business and the tenderest and sweetest of all humanity when anyone needed a helping hand.
I once heard an irascible old cottager exclaim: “Damn the Wilders’ scheming heads!” And then, after a pause: “But God bless their kindly hearts!” It was the epitome of their characters, expressed in a nutshell. How we all swore at them — yet how we loved them!
CHAPTER IX.
DEVELOPING THE NEGATIVE.
Jarrod got his Committee of Five together and looked them over. As might be expected they were a queerly assorted lot and promised to be difficult to manage.
The promise was fulfilled during the several meetings of the committee that were quietly held on back porches. Colonel Kerry was the one tower of strength; but a man used to managing thousands of miners and keeping them in order was not likely to be easily managed himself. Kerry was odd as Dick’s hat band and had little to say at the meetings. He read Jarrod’s purpose clearly, and endorsed it; but the old fellow couldn’t stand the arguments and wandering suggestions of his fellow members on the committee. While he listened he tore a fragment from an old letter or newspaper and rolled it with infinite care and skill into the inevitable spiral, shaping the thing between his fingers as carefully as if it were something precious. But if anything occurred to annoy him he promptly destroyed the spiral, put on his hat, and walked home without a word. Then Jarrod had to go after him and urge and explain until Kerry consented to come back to the meeting.
The members of the committee were all prominent men. If Kerry could have cursed them freely everything would have been harmonious — as far as he was concerned. As he couldn’t swear his only recourse was to quit and go home.
The author fellow, Mr. Wright, was another hard proposition. He was stubborn, loud-mouthed and pigheaded, and wanted to
carry everything with a high hand, the way they do in novels. He had about as much diplomacy as a cannon-ball, and his fellow members had to sit on him twice a minute to keep him from spoiling everything. Judge Toodles knew a heap of law but was sure to get tangled in its intricacies, and when he tried to unravel himself was nearly as lucid and logical as a straw in a cocktail. Teekey was an unknown quantity. He owned a fine cottage built on public property, and although he had originally been an “innocent purchaser” his doubtful title so worried him that he was accustomed to obtain from Wilder and Easton a new deed about once a year, and each deed he filed gave him a little more public land. He was reputed a wealthy and eminently respectable gentleman, and the chances of his fighting on the side of the cottagers and jeopardizing his own property to assert the principles of right and justice were considered good — but not gilt-edged.
With this ill-assorted material Jarrod labored until he molded it into shape. For it must be admitted that in the end the members of the committee stood shoulder to shoulder and did their full duty by the cottagers who had appointed them. By these five Tamawaca was redeemed and its incubi unseated.
Meantime Jarrod had reluctantly indulged in several interviews wjth old Easton. This man was a most peculiar character. He loved to sing hymns and made an excellent exhortation at any religious gathering. Indeed, one milk-fed preacher who lived on the hill was openly jealous of his evangelistic abilities. But the miserly instinct was predominant in Easton’s nature and, as Wilder expressed it, he could “squeeze a cent till it hollered.” It was this characteristic that subverted all the good in his nature and made him universally detested. Wilder, his partner, pursued his system of graft with the grace and cheeriness of a modem Dick Turpin. Wilder was open-handed and charitable, generous on occasion, always hospitable, and more crafty than roguish. Easton was deliberate and calculating in his extortions and, like the ostrich who hides his head in the sand to escape observation, fondly imagined that no one suspected his persistent brigandage. He derived a fat income from the necessities of the cottagers but pleaded poverty as an excuse for not doing his duty by them. His methods were sly and stealthy and he looked grieved and hurt if any exasperated cottager frankly called him a damned scoundrel.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 764
