by Rex Beach
XII
HOW GORDON FAILED IN HIS CUNNING
The so-called canon of the Salmon River lies just above the twinglaciers. Scenically, these are by far the more impressive, and theypresent a more complex engineering problem; yet the canon itself wasthe real strategic point in the struggle between the railroad-builders.The floor of the valley immediately above Garfield glacier, thoughseveral miles wide, was partly filled with detritus which had beencarried down from the mother range on the east, and this mass of debrishad forced the stream far over against the westward rim, where it cameroaring past the foot wall in a splendid cataract some three mileslong. To the left of the river, looking up-stream at this point, themountains slanted skyward like a roof, until lost in the hurrying scudfour thousand feet above. To the right, however, was the old moraine,just mentioned, consisting of a desolate jumble of rock and gravel andsilt overlaying the ice foot. On account of its broken character andthe unstable nature of its foundation this bank was practically uselessfor road-building, and the only feasible route for steel rails wasalong the steep west wall.
O'Neil on his first reconnaissance had perceived that while there wasroom for more than one bridge across the Salmon between the upper andthe lower ice masses, there was not room for more than one trackalongside the rapids, some miles above that point. He knew, moreover,that once he had established his title to a right-of-way along the westrim of the cataract, it would be difficult for a rival to oust him, orto parallel his line without first crossing back to the east bank--anundertaking at once hazardous and costly. He had accordingly given DanAppleton explicit instructions to be very careful in filing his survey,that no opportunity might be left open for a later arrival. Theengineer had done his work well, and O'Neil rested secure in the beliefthat he held possession of the best and least expensive route throughto the open valleys above. He had had no cause to fear a clash with theHeidlemann forces, for they had shown a strict regard for his rightsand seemed content to devote themselves to developing their terminusbefore trying to negotiate the canon. They were wise in taking thiscourse, for their success would mean that O'Neil's project would fallof its own weight. Kyak was nearer Seattle, by many miles, than Omar;it was closer to the coal and copper fields, and the proven permanenceof their breakwater would render useless further attempts to financethe S. R. & N.
But in the entrance of Curtis Gordon into the field O'Neil recognizeddanger. Gordon was swayed by no such business scruples as theHeidlemanns; he was evidently making a desperate effort to secure afooting at any cost. In purchasing the McDermott holdings he hadexecuted a coup of considerable importance, for he had placed himselfon equal footing with the Trust and in position to profit by itsefforts at harbor-building without expense to himself. If, therefore,he succeeded in wresting from O'Neil the key to that upper passageway,he would be able to block his personal enemy and to command theconsideration of his more powerful rival.
No one, not even the Trust, had taken the McDermott enterpriseseriously, but with Curtis Gordon in control the "wildcat" suddenlybecame a tiger.
In view of all this, it was with no easy mind that O'Neil despatchedAppleton to the front, and it was with no small responsibility upon hisshoulders that the young engineer set out in charge of those woodenboxes of dynamite. Murray had told him frankly what hung upon hissuccess, and Dan had vowed to hold the survey at any cost.
Steam was up and the locomotive was puffing restlessly when he returnedfrom his farewell to Eliza. A moment later and the single flat carcarrying his party and its dangerous freight was being whirled alongthe shores of Omar Lake. On it rushed, shrieking through the night, outfrom the gloomy hills and upon the tangent that led across the delta.Ten minutes after it had rolled forth upon the trestle at the "lowercrossing" the giant powder had been transferred to poling-boats and thelong pull against the current had begun.
O'Neil had picked a crew for Dan, men upon whom he could depend. Theywere on double pay, and as they had worked upon the North Pass & Yukon,Appleton had no doubt of their loyalty.
The events of that trip were etched upon the engineer's mind withextraordinary vividness, for they surpassed in peril and excitement allhis previous experiences. The journey resembled nothing but the madscramble of a gold stampede. The stubborn boats with their cargoeswhich had to be so gently handled, the ever-increasing fury of theriver, the growing menace of those ghastly, racing icebergs, thetaut-hauled towing-lines, and the straining, sweating men in the loops,all made a picture hard to forget. Then, too, the uncertainty of theenterprise, the crying need of haste, the knowledge of those other menconverging upon the same goal, lent a gnawing suspense to every hour.It was infinitely more terrible than that first expedition when he andTom Slater and O'Neil had braved the unknown. It was vastly more tryingthan any of the trips which had followed, even with the winterhurricane streaming out of the north as from the mouth of a giantfunnel.
Dan had faced death in various forms upon this delta during the pastyear and a half. He had seen his flesh harden to marble whiteness underthe raging north wind; his eyes and lungs had been drifted full of sandin summer storms which rivaled those of the Sahara. With transit on hisback he had come face to face with the huge brown grizzly. He had sleptin mud, he had made his bed on moss which ran water like a sponge; hehad taken danger and hardship as they came--yet never had he punishedhimself as on this dash.
Through his confusion of impressions, his intense preoccupation withpresent dangers and future contingencies, the thought of Nataliefloated now and then vaguely but comfortingly. He had seen her for amoment, before leaving--barely long enough to explain the nature of hismission--but her quick concern, her unvoiced anxiety, had been verypleasant, and he could not believe that it was altogether due to herinterest in the fortunes of O'Neil.
Dan knew that Mellen's crew was camped at the upper crossing, busied indrilling for the abutments and foundations of the bridge; but hereasoned that they would scarcely suspect the object of Gordon's partyand that, in any case, they were not organized or equipped to resistit. Moreover, the strategic point was four miles above the bridge site,and the surveying corps would hardly precipitate a clash, particularlysince there was ample room for them to select a crossing-placealongside.
It was after midnight of the second day when he and his weary boatmenstumbled into sight of the camp. Appleton halted his command and stoleforward, approaching the place through the tangled alders which flankedit. He had anticipated that the rival party would be up to this pointby now, if not even farther advanced, and he was both angered andrelieved to sight the tops of other tents pitched a few hundred yardsbeyond Mellen's outfit. So they were here! He had arrived in time,after all! A feeling of exultation conquered the deathly fatigue thatslowed his limbs. Although he still had to pass the invader's camp andestablish himself at the canon, the certainty that he had made goodthus far was ample reward for his effort.
A dog broke into furious barking as he emerged from cover, and he had amoment's anxiety lest it serve as warning to the enemy; but a few quickstrides brought him to the tent of Mellen's foreman. Going in, heroused the man, who was sleeping soundly.
"Hello!" cried the foreman, jumping up and rubbing his eyes, "I thoughtCurtis Gordon had taken possession."
"Hush! Don't wake them up," Dan cautioned.
"Oh, there's no danger of disturbing them with this infernalcannonading going on all the time." The night resounded to a rumblingcrash as some huge mass of ice split off, perhaps two miles away.
"When did they arrive?"
"Night before last. They've located right alongside of us. Gee! we weresurprised when they showed up. They expect to break camp in themorning." He yawned widely.
"Hm-m! They're making tracks, aren't they? Were they friendly?"
"Oh, sure! So were we. There was nothing else to do, was there? We hadno orders."
"I have two dozen men and four boatloads of dynamite with me. I'm goingto hold that mountainside."
"Then you're going to fight!"
All vestige of drowsiness had fled fromthe man's face.
"Not if we can help it. Who is in charge of this crew?"
"Gordon himself."
"Gordon!"
"Yes! And he's got a tough gang with him."
"Armed?"
"Sure! This is a bear country, you know."
"Listen! I want you to tell him, as innocently as you can, that we'reon the job ahead of him. Tell him we've been there for a week and haveloaded that first rock shoulder and expect to shoot it off as soon aspossible. You can tell him, too, that I'm up there and he'd better seeme before trying to pass through."
"I've got you! But that won't stop him."
"Perhaps! Now have you any grub in camp?"
"No."
"We threw ours overboard, to make time. Send up anything you can spare;we're played out."
"It'll be nothing but beans, and they're moldy."
"We can fight on beans, and we'll eat the paper off those giantcartridges if we have to. Don't fail to warn Gordon that the hillsideis mined, and warn him loud enough for his swampers to hear."
Appleton hastened back to his boats, where he found his men sprawledamong the boulders sleeping the sleep of complete exhaustion. They weredrenched, half numbed by the chill air of the glacier, and it was wellthat he roused them.
"Gordon's men are camped just above," he told them. "But we must getthrough without waking them. No talking, now, until we're safe."
Silently the crew resumed their tow-lines, fitting them to their achingshoulders; gingerly the boats were edged out into the current.
It was fortunate that the place was noisy, and that the voice of theriver and the periodic bombardment from the glaciers drowned the rattleof loose stones dislodged by their footsteps. But it was a tryinghalf-hour that followed. Dan did not breathe easily until his party hadcrossed the bar and were safely out upon the placid waters of the lake,with the last stage of the journey ahead of them.
About mid-forenoon of the following day Curtis Gordon halted his partyat the lower end of the rapids and went on alone. To his right lay thecataract and along the steep slope against which it chafed wound afaint footpath scarcely wide enough in places for a man to pass. Thistrail dipped in and out, wound back and forth around frowningpromontories. It dodged through alder thickets or spanned slides ofloose rock, until, three miles above, it emerged into the more opencountry back of the parent range. It had been worn by the feet of wildanimals and it followed closely the right-of-way of the S. R. & N. Tothe left the hills rose swiftly in great leaps to the sky; to theright, so close that a false step meant disaster, roared the cataract,muddy and foam-flecked.
As Gordon neared the first bluff he heard, above the clamor of theflood, a faint metallic "tap-tap-tap," as of hammer and drill, and,drawing closer, he saw Dan Appleton perched upon a rock which commandeda view in both directions. Just around the shoulder, in a tiny gulch,or gutter from the slopes above, were pitched several tents, from oneof which curled the smoke of a cook-stove. Close at hand were mooredfour battered poling-boats.
"Look out!" Appleton shouted from on high.
Gordon flushed angrily and kept on, scanning the surroundings withpractised eye.
"Hey, you!" Dan called, for a second time. "Keep back! We're going toshoot."
Still heedless of the warning, Gordon held stubbornly to his stride. Henoted the heads of several men projecting from behind boulders, and hisanger rose. How dared this whipper-snapper shout at him! He feltinclined to toss the insolent young scoundrel into the rapids. Thensuddenly his resentment gave place to a totally different emotion. Theslanting bank midway between him and Appleton lifted itself bodily in achocolate-colored upheaval, and the roar of a dynamite blast rolled outacross the river. It was but a feeble echo of the majesticreverberations from the glacier across the lake, but it was impressiveenough to send Curtis Gordon scurrying to a place of safety. He wheeledin his tracks, doubling himself over, and his long legs began to threshwildly. Reaching the shelter of a rock crevice, he hurled himself intoit, while over his place of refuge descended a shower of dirt and rocksand debris. When the rain of missiles had subsided he stepped forth,his face white with fury, his big hands twitching. His voice was hoarseas he shouted his protest.
Appleton scrambled carefully down from his perch in the warm sunshineand approached with insolent leisure.
"Say! Do you want to get your fool self killed?" he cried; then in analtered tone: "Oh! Is it you, Gordon?"
"You knew very well it was I." Gordon swallowed hard and partiallycontrolled his wrath. "What do you mean by such carelessness?" hedemanded. "You ought to be hung for a thing like that." He brushed thedirt from his expensive hunting-suit.
"I yelled my head off! You must be deaf."
"You saw me coming! Don't say you didn't. Fortunately I wasn't hurt."In a tone of command he added, "You'll have to stop blasting until I gothrough with my party."
"Sorry! Every day counts with us." Appleton grinned. "You know how itis--short season, and all that."
"Come, come! Don't be an idiot. I have no time to waste,"
"Then you'll have to go around," said Dan. "This isn't a public road,you know."
Gordon had come to argue, to pacify, to gain his ends by lying, ifnecessary, but this impudent jackanapes infuriated him. His plans hadgone smoothly so far, and the unexpected threat of resistancemomentarily provoked him beyond restraint.
"You scoundrel," he cried. "You'd have blown me into the river if youcould. But I'll go through this canon--"
"Go as far and as fast as you like," Dan interrupted with equal heat,"only take your own chances, and have a net spread at the lower end ofthe rapids to catch the remains."
They eyed each other angrily; then Gordon said, more quietly:
"This is ridiculous. You can't stop me."
"Maybe I can't and maybe I can, I'm under orders to rush this work andI don't intend to knock off to please you. I've planted shots atvarious places along our right-of-way and I'll set 'em off when itsuits me. If you're so anxious to go up-river, why don't you cross overto the moraine? There's a much better trail on that side. You'll findbetter walking a few miles farther up, and you'll run no danger ofbeing hurt."
"I intend to run a survey along this hillside."
"There isn't room; we beat you to it."
"The law provides--"
"Law? Jove! I'd forgotten there is such a thing. Why don't you go tolaw and settle the question that way? We'll have our track laid by thetime you get action, and I'm sure Mr. O'Neil wouldn't place anyobstacles in the way of your free passage back and forth. He's awfullyobliging about such things."
Gordon ground his fine, white, even teeth. "Don't you understand thatI'm entitled to a right-of-way through here under the law of commonuser?" he asked, with what patience he could command.
"If you're trying to get a legal opinion on the matter why don't yousee a lawyer? I'm not a lawyer, neither am I a public speaker nor apiano-tuner, nor anything like that--I'm an engineer."
"Don't get funny. I can't send my men in here if you continue blasting."
"So it seems to me, but you appear to be hell bent on trying it."
Dan was enjoying himself and he deliberately added to the other's angerby inquiring, as if in the blinding light of a new idea:
"Why don't you bridge over and go up the other side?" He pointed to theforbidding, broken country which faced them across the rapids.
Gordon snorted. "How long do you intend to maintain this preposterousattitude?" he asked.
"As long as the powder lasts--and there's a good deal of it."
The promoter chewed his lip for a moment in perplexity, then said witha geniality he was far from feeling:
"Appleton, you're all right! I admire your loyalty, even though ithappens to be for a mistaken cause. I always liked you. I admireloyalty--It's something I need in my business. What I need I pay for,and I pay well."
"So your man Linn told us."
"I never really discharged
you. In fact, I intended to re-employ you,for I need you badly. You can name your own salary and go to work anytime."
"In other words, you mean you'll pay me well to let you through."
"Fix your own price and I'll double it."
"Will you come with me up this trail a little way?" Dan inquired.
"Certainly."
"There's a spot where I'd like to have you stand. I'll save you thetrouble of walking back to your men--you'll beat the echo."
There was a pause while Gordon digested this. "Better think it over,"he said at length. "I'll never let O'Neil build his road, not if itbreaks me, and you're merely laying yourself open to arrest bythreatening me."
"Please come with me!" urged Appleton. "You'll never know what hit you."
With a curse the promoter wheeled and walked swiftly down the trail bywhich he had come.
"Get ready to shoot," Dan ordered when he had returned to hisvantage-point. A few moments later he saw the invading party approach,but he withheld his warning shout until it was close at hand. EvidentlyGordon did not believe he would have the reckless courage to carry outhis threat, and had determined to put him to the test.
The engineer gauged his distance nicely, and when the new-comers hadfairly passed within the danger zone he gave the signal to fire.
A blast heavier than the one which had discouraged Gordon's advancefollowed his command, and down upon the new-comers rained a delugewhich sent them scurrying to cover. Fortunately no one was injured.
An hour later the invaders had pitched camp a mile below, and afterplacing a trusted man on guard Appleton sent his weary men to bed.
It was Curtis Gordon himself who brought O'Neil the first tidings ofthis encounter, for, seeing the uselessness of an immediate attempt toovercome Dan's party by force, he determined to make formal protest. Hesecured a boat, and a few hours later the swift current swept him downto the lower crossing, where McKay put a locomotive at his disposal forthe trip to Omar. By the time he arrived there he was quite himselfagain, suave, self-possessed, and magnificently outraged at thetreatment he had received. O'Neil met him with courtesy.
"Your man Appleton has lost his head," Gordon began. "I've come to askyou to call him off."
"He is following instructions to the letter."
"Do you mean that you refuse to allow me to run my right-of-way alongthat hillside? Impossible!" His voice betokened shocked surprise.
"I am merely holding my own survey. I can't quit work to accommodateyou."
"But, my dear sir, I must insist that you do."
O'Neil shrugged.
"Then there is but one way to construe your refusal--it means that youdeclare war."
"You saved me that necessity when you sent Linn to hire my men away."
Gordon ignored this reference. "You must realize, O'Neil," said he,"that I am merely asking what is mine. I have the right to use thatcanonside--the right to use your track at that point, in fact, if itproves impracticable to parallel it--under the law of common user. Youare an experienced contractor; you must be familiar with that law."
"Yes. I looked it up before beginning operations, and I found it hasnever been applied to Alaska."
Gordon started. "That's a ridiculous statement."
"Perhaps, but it's true. Alaska is not a territory, it's a district,and it has its own code. Until the law of common user has been appliedhere you'll have to use the other side of the river."
"That would force me to bridge twice in passing the upper glacier. Weshall see what the courts have to say."
"Thanks! I shall be grateful for the delay."
Gordon rose with a bow. The interview had been short and to the point.O'Neil put an engine at his service for the return trip, and after astiff adieu the visitor departed, inwardly raging.
It was his first visit to Omar, and now that he was here he determinedto see it all. But first another matter demanded his attention--amatter much in his mind of late, concerning which he had reached a moreor less satisfactory decision during his journey.
He went directly to the new hotel and inquired for Gloria Gerard.
Beneath the widow's coldness when she came to meet him he detected anuncertainty, a frightened indecision which assured him of success, andhe set himself to his task with the zest he always felt in bendinganother to his will.
"It has been the greatest regret of my life that we quarreled," he toldher when their strained greeting was over. "I felt that I had to comeand see with my own eyes that you are well."
"I am quite well."
"Two people who have been to each other as much as we have been cannotlightly separate; their lives cannot be divided without a painfulreadjustment." He paused, then reflecting that he could afford a littlesentimental extravagance, added, "Flowers cannot easily betransplanted, and love, after all, is the frailest of blooms."
"I--think it is perennial. Have you--missed me?" Her dark eyes werestrained and curious.
"My dear, you can never know how much, nor how deeply distressing thiswhole affair has been to me." He managed to put an affecting pathosinto words sufficiently banal, for he was an excellent actor. "I findthat I am all sentiment. Under the shell of the hard-headed businessman beats the heart of a school-boy. The memory of the hours we havespent together, the places we have seen, the joys and discouragementswe have shared, haunts me constantly. Memory can glean but never renew:'joy's recollection is no longer joy while sorrow's memory is sorrowstill.'"
The spell of his personality worked strongly upon her. "Recollection isthe only paradise from which we cannot be turned out," she said. "Youread that to me once, but I didn't dream that my own happiness wouldsome day consist of recollection."
"Why should it, Gloria? Hope is ready to welcome you. Your home standsopen; my arms are outstretched."
"No!" she exclaimed, with a shake of her dark head. "There is some onebesides myself to consider. Natalie is happy here; no one seems to knowor to care what I have done."
"But surely you are not satisfied with this."
He ran his eye critically over the garish newness of the little hotelparlor. It was flimsy, cheap, fresh with paint, very different from thesurroundings he had given her at Hope. "I wonder that he presumed tooffer you this after what you have had. A hotel-keeper! A landlady!"
"I was glad to get even this, for I have no pride now," she returned,coldly. "At least the house is honest, and the men who come here arethe same. Mr. O'Neil is especially kind to Natalie, and she thinks agreat deal of him."
"I presume he wants to marry her."
"I pray that he will. I don't intend her to make the mistake I did."
Gordon received this announcement with grim satisfaction. It was whathe had suspected, and it fitted perfectly into his plans.
"I sha'n't allow this to continue, Gloria," he said. "Our differencehas gone far enough, and I sha'n't permit O'Neil to put me in his debt.We have come to a final understanding, he and I. While my views on theholiness of the marriage relation have not changed in the least, stillI am ready to follow your wishes."
"You--mean it?" she queried, breathlessly.
"I do. Come home, Gloria."
"Wait! I must tell Natalie." She rose unsteadily and left the room,while he reflected with mingled scorn and amusement upon the weaknessof human nature and the gullibility of women.
A moment later mother and daughter appeared, arm in arm, both very pale.
"Is this true?" Natalie demanded.
"Quite true. You and Gloria seem to think I owe something; I nevershirk a debt." Mrs. Gerard's fingers tightened painfully upon herdaughter's arm as he continued: "There is only one condition upon whichI insist: you must both return to Hope at once and have done withthis--this man."
Natalie hesitated, but the look in her mother's eyes decided her. Withsome difficulty she forced herself to acquiesce, and felt the grip uponher arm suddenly relax. "When will the wedding take place?" she asked.
"At the earliest possible moment," Gordon declared, w
ith well-feignedseriousness. "Once we return to God's country--"
"No!" cried Natalie. "We can't go back to Hope until she is married; itwould be scandalous."
"Why more scandalous to accept my protection than that of a stranger?Do you care what these people think?" he demanded, with an air of finescorn.
"Yes! I care very much."
"Is there any--reason for waiting?" Mrs. Gerard inquired.
"Many! Too many to enumerate. It is my condition that you both leaveOmar at once."
Gloria Gerard looked at her daughter in troubled indecision, butNatalie answered firmly:
"We can't do that."
"So! You have your own plans, no doubt, and it doesn't trouble you thatyou are standing in the way of your mother's respectability!" His voicewas harsh, his sneer open. "Bless my soul! Is the generosity to be allon my side? Or has this man O'Neil forbidden you to associate with me?"
"I don't trust you." Natalie flared up. "I'm afraid you are trying--"
"It is my condition, and I am adamant. Believe me, O'Neil knows of yourdisgrace, or will learn of it in time. It would be well to protect yourname while you can." Turning to the other woman, he said loudly:"Gloria, the girl is ready to sacrifice you to her own ends."
"Wait!" Natalie's nerves were tingling with dislike of the man, but shesaid steadily: "I shall do exactly as mother wishes."
Be it said to the credit of Gloria Gerard that she did not hesitate.
"I shall be here when you are ready," she told him.
With an exclamation of rage Gordon rose and strode out of the room.
