The Rules of the Game

by Stewart Edward White

  XXII

  "Well," said California John, after a pause, "after you've made yourjump there ain't much use in trying to turn back. If you didn't know it,why it was evident you wasn't intended to know it. But I was in thecountry when your father bought the land, so I happened to know aboutit."

  Bob stared at the old man so long that the latter felt called upon toreassure him.

  "I wouldn't take it so hard, if I was you, son," said he. "I reallydon't think all these bluffs of Baker's amount to much. The findings ofthat commission ain't never been acted on, which would seem to show thatit didn't come to nothing at the time; and I don't have the slightestnotion in the world but what the whole thing will blow up in smoke."

  "As far as that is concerned, I haven't either," said Bob; "though younever can tell, and defending such a suit is always an expensive matter.But here's the trouble; my father is Congressman from Michigan, he'sbeen in several pretty heavy fights this last year, and has somepowerful enemies; he is up for reelection this fall."

  "Suffering cats!" whistled California John.

  "A lot could be made of a suit of that nature," said Bob, "whether ithad any basis, or not."

  "I've run for County Supervisor in my time," said California Johnsimply.

  "Well, what is your advice?" asked Bob.

  "Son, I ain't got none," replied the old man.

  That very evening a messenger rode over from the mill bringing a summonsfrom Welton. Bob saddled up at once. He found the lumberman, not in thecomfortable sitting room at his private sleeping camp, but watching thelamp alone in the office. As Bob entered, his former associate turned atroubled face toward the young man.

  "Bob," said he at once, "they've got the old man cinched, unless you'llhelp out."

  "How's that?"

  "You remember when we first came in here how Plant closed the road andthe flume right-of-way on us because we didn't have the permit?"

  "Of course."

  "Now, Bob, you remember how we was up against it, don't you? If wehadn't gone through that year we'd have busted the business absolutely.It was just a case of hold-up and we had to pay it. You remember?"

  "Yes."

  "Well!" burst out Welton, bringing his fist down, "now this hound,Baker, sends up his slick lawyer to tell me that was bribery, and thathe can have me up on a criminal charge!"

  "He's bluffing," said Bob quietly. "I remember all about that case. IfI'd known as much then of inside workings as I do now, I'd have taken ahand. But Baker himself ran the whole show. If he brings that matterinto court, he'll be subject to the same charge; for, if you remember,he paid the money."

  "Will he!" shouted Welton. "You don't know the lowlived skunk! Erbe toldme that if this suit was brought and you testified in the matter, thatBaker would turn state's evidence against me! That would let him offscot-free."

  "What!" said Bob incredulously. "Brand himself publicly as a criminaland tell-tale just to get you into trouble! Not likely. Think what thatwould mean to a man in his position! It would be every bit as bad asthough he were to take his jail sentence. He's bluffing again."

  "Do you really think so?" asked Welton, a gleam of relief lighteningthe gloom of his red, good-natured face. "I'll agree to handle the worstriver crew you can hand out to me; but this law business gets me runningin circles."

  "It does all of us," said Bob with a sigh.

  "I concluded from Erbe's coming up here that you had decided to tellabout what you knew. That ain't so, is it?"

  "I don't know; I can't see my duty clearly yet."

  "For heaven's sake, Bobby, what's it to you!" demanded Weltonexasperated.

  But Bob did not hear him.

  "I think the direct way is the best," he remarked, by way of thinkingaloud. "I'm going to keep on going to headquarters. I'm going to writefather and put it straight to him how he did get those lands and tellhim the whole situation; and I'm going down to interview Baker, anddiscover, if I can, just how much of a bluff he is putting up."

  "In the meantime----" said Welton apparently not noting the fact thatBob had become aware of the senior Orde's connection with the land.

  "In the meantime I'm going to postpone action if I can."

  "They're summoning witnesses for the Basin trial."

  "I'll do the best I can," concluded Bob.

  Accordingly he wrote the next day to his father. In this letter hestated frankly the situation as far as it affected the Wolverine lands,but said nothing about the threatened criminal charges against Welton.That was another matter. He set out the great value of the Basin landsand the methods by which they had been acquired. He pointed out hisduty, both as a forest officer and as a citizen, but balanced this bythe private considerations that had developed from the situation.

  This dispatched, he applied for leave.

  "This is the busy season, and we can spare no one," said Thorne. "Youhave important matters on hand."

  "This is especially important," urged Bob.

  "It is absolutely impossible. Come two months later, and I'll be gladto lay you off as long as I can."

  "This particular affair is most urgent business."

  "Private, of course?"

  "Not entirely."

  "Couldn't be considered official?"

  "It might become so."

  "What is it?"

  "That I am not at liberty to tell you."

  Thorne considered.

  "No; I'm sorry, but I don't see how I can spare you."

  "In that case," said Bob quietly, "you will force me to tender myresignation."

  Thorne looked up at him quickly, and studied his face.

  "From anybody else, Orde," said he, "I'd take that as a threat or ahold-up, and fire the man on the spot. From you I do not. The mattermust be really serious. You may go. Get back as soon as you can."

  "Thank you," said Bob. "It is serious. Three days will do me."

  He set about his preparations at once, packing a suit case with linenlong out of commission, smoothing out the tailored clothes he had nothad occasion to use for many a day. He then transported this--andhimself--down the mountain on his saddle horse. At Auntie Belle's hechanged his clothes. The next morning he caught the stage, and by theday following walked up the main street of Fremont.

  He had no trouble in finding Baker's office. The Sycamore Creekoperations were one group of many. As one of Baker's companies furnishedFremont with light and power, it followed that at night the name of thatcompany blazed forth in thousands of lights. The sign was not the lesslegible, though not so fiery, by day. Bob walked into extensiveground-floor offices behind plate-glass windows. Here were wickets andrailings through which and over which the public business wastransacted. A narrow passageway sidled down between the wall and a rowof ground-glass doors, on which were lettered the names of variousofficers of the company. At a swinging bar separating this passage fromthe main office sat a uniformed boy directing and stamping envelopes.

  Bob wrote his name on a blank form offered by this youth. The young mangazed at it a moment superciliously, then sauntered with an air of greatleisure down the long corridor. He reappeared after a moment's absencebehind the last door, to return with considerably more alacrity.

  "Come right in, sir," he told Bob, in tones which mingled much deferencewith considerable surprise.

  Bob had no reason to understand how unusual was the circumstance of soprompt a reception of a visitor for whom no previous appointment hadbeen made. He entered the door held open for him by the boy, and sofound himself in Baker's presence.