The Iron Trail

by Rex Beach

  XVII

  HOW THE PRINCE BECAME A MAN

  Gordon found his erstwhile ward greatly improved by her recent life.She was brown, vigorous, healthy; her physical charms quickened hispulses.

  "You must have a very good reason for coming to see me," she began. "Idon't flatter myself that it is from affection."

  "There you wrong me," he assured her, with the warm earnestness he soeasily assumed. "I have always regarded you as a daughter."

  "I have no faith in you."

  "Exactly, and the knowledge distresses me. You and Gloria were a largepart of my life; I can't bear to lose you. I hope--and I believe--thather regard for me has changed no more than mine for her. It remains forme to regain yours."

  "That is impossible. You had the chance--"

  "My dear, you can't know my reasons for acting as I did at Omar. Butthose reasons no longer exist."

  "Just what--do you mean by that?" stammered Natalie.

  "I mean what I say. I'm ready to marry your mother."

  "When?"

  "At once. You shall plead my cause for me. You shall add your voice tomine--"

  "That isn't necessary. You know mother is only waiting for you. Itmeans so much to her that she couldn't refuse."

  "Doesn't it mean anything to you?"

  Natalie nodded. "It means more to me than to any one else, perhaps. Ihave been carrying a great burden, almost more than I can bear.Sometimes I've wished I were a man--for just long enough to make youpay. Oh yes," she continued, as he started to protest. "Don't let usbegin this new life with any false conceptions; you may as well knowthat I shall always hate you. We shall see very little of each other."

  "Nonsense! I can't let you feel like that. I sha'n't rest until I winback your love and confidence."

  She eyed him searchingly for a moment, then opened her lips to speak,but closed them.

  "Well?" he prompted her. "Let us be frank with each other."

  "I'm merely wondering how greatly your decision has been influenced bythe storm and the fight at the railroad crossing. I understand how youfeel toward Mr. O'Neil, and I know that he means to crush you."

  "Oh!" Gordon's face lighted.

  "Yes! He has never said so, but I can feel it. I wonder if you havesnatched us up in your extremity as a defense."

  "Ridiculous! Your suspicions are insulting. I have nothing to fear fromhim, for he is broken, his credit is gone, he is in desperate straits."

  "Are you in any better condition? How long can you fool your peoplewith that pretense of a mine?"

  Gordon flushed, but affected scorn. "So! Have you and Gloria begun tobalance my wealth against my love? If so--"

  "You know she would marry you if you were penniless."

  "I hope so--and, indeed, I can't believe her mercenary. Well, I shallsay good-by to Kyak, without idle regret, and we three shall return toHope, where I can attack my problems with fresh courage. I can wellafford my loss here, if by doing so I gain the woman of my desires."

  "You want me to go with you?"

  "Of course. You can't stay in Omar, knowing what you do about O'Neil.Remember, I shall be in the position of a father to you."

  "Very well. It is the least I can do. Miss Appleton and I are returningto Omar in a few days. Will you go with us?"

  "I shall be delighted, my dear." He smiled upon her in his mostfatherly fashion, but she was far from feeling the assurance he meantto convey.

  The eighteen-hour train from Chicago bore Murray O'Neil into New Yorkon time, and he hastened directly to the Holland House, where the clerkgreeted him as if he had run in from Yonkers instead of from thewilderness of the far northwest. His arrival was always the forerunnerof great prosperity for the bell-boys, and there was the customarystruggle for his baggage.

  An hour later, having bathed and changed his linen, he was whizzingtoward lower Broadway, with the roar of the Subway in his ears. NewYork looked very good to O'Neil, for this time he came not as asuppliant, but as a conqueror, and a deep contentment rested in hisheart. More than once during the last two years he had made this flyingtrip across an ocean and a continent, but heretofore he had beenburdened with worries and responsibilities. Always he had needed togather his wits for some supreme effort; always there had been theurgent necessity of raising money. As the S. R. & N. had grown hisobligations had increased; and, while he had never returnedempty-handed, no one but he knew at what cost of time and strength hehad succeeded in financing his venture. Invariably he had left New Yorkmentally and physically exhausted, and his days in the open had barelyserved to replenish his store of nervous energy for the next campaign.

  As he looked back upon it all he was amazed at his daring in attemptingto finance a railroad out of his own pocket. But he had won, and theTrust had met with a sharp reverse in attempting to beat him at his owngame. He held the winning card, and he looked out upon the worldthrough eyes which were strained and weary, but complacent.

  Mr. Herman Heidlemann was expecting him.

  "You have the most confident way of arranging appointments from theother side of the world," he began, as O'Neil entered his office."Steamships and railroads appear to be your obedient servants."

  "Not always. I find railroads very troublesome at times."

  "Well, you're on time to the minute," said Heidlemann. "Now tell meabout Kyak. Trevor cables that you were there during the storm whichruined us." The head of the copper syndicate did not look like a manfacing ruin; in fact, he seemed more curious to hear of the physicalphenomena of that hurricane than of its effect upon his fortunes.

  "Kyak was a great mistake," he admitted, when O'Neil had given him theparticulars he asked for. "We're all agreed on that point. Some of ourassociates feel that the whole Alaskan enterprise has been amistake--mines and all."

  "Your mines are as good as they ever were, but Kyak is a long way fromWall Street, and you relied too much upon other people's judgment."

  "We have to rely upon our experts."

  "Of course. But that country must have a railroad."

  "Must?" Heidlemann lifted his brows. "It has done very well without oneso far. Our friends call us crazy for trying to build one, and ourenemies call us thieves."

  "You can't afford to give up."

  "No. There's an element of pride in the matter, and I really believethe country does need transportation."

  "You can't understand how badly it needs it."

  "Yet it's a heavy load to carry," said Heidlemann, with conviction,"for a road will lose money for many years. We were willing to waituntil the agriculture and the mining developed, even though the profitcame only to our children; but--we have been misunderstood, abused bythe press and the public. Even Congress is down on us. However, Isuppose you came to tell me once more that Omar is the gateway and thatwe need it."

  O'Neil smiled. "That's hardly necessary now, is it? I own every inch ofwater-front at that point, and there's no other harbor. My track willbe laid to the glaciers by the time snow flies."

  "Trevor reports that a bridge is possible, although expensive."

  "It will cost two million dollars."

  "I don't see how it can be built to withstand the ice."

  "I'll guarantee to build it so it will hold."

  "What is your proposition?" asked Heidlemann.

  "I'll sell the S.R.&N. for five million dollars and contract tocomplete the road within two years on a ten-per-cent commission."

  "It has cost you about three million dollars, I believe. That wouldleave you a handsome profit."

  "One million for me, one million for my associates."

  "What will the remaining hundred miles cost?"

  "About ten millions. That will give me another million profit ascontractor. My force and equipment is on the ground. I can save youmoney and a year's time."

  Mr. Heidlemann drummed upon the top of his desk for a moment.

  "You're a high-priced man, O'Neil," he said, finally.

  "You've had experience with the other kind."
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  "Counting the money we've already sunk, the road would stand us abouttwenty million dollars completed."

  "It will cost thirty to build from Cortez, and take two years longer."

  Mr. Heidlemann seemed to consider this for a moment. "We've had thismatter before us almost constantly since the report of the storm," hesaid, at length, "and after deliberation our directors have voted to donothing just yet."

  O'Neil opened his eyes in amazement.

  "I don't understand."

  "It's this way. Our engineers first recommended Cortez as astarting-point, and we spent a fortune there. Then you attacked theother route, and we sent Trevor up to find if you were right and wewere wrong. He recommended the Salmon River valley, and told us hecould build a breakwater at Kyak. You know the result. We relied uponhim, for he seemed to be the best man in the country, but as a matterof precaution we later sent other engineers. Their reports came in notthree months ago, and, while all seemed confident that the breakwatercould be built, none of them were certain about the bridge. One, infact, condemned it absolutely. Now on the heels of their statementscomes the news that the very work they united in declaring feasible hasbeen undone. Naturally, we don't know where we are or whom to believe."

  "They simply didn't know the conditions at Kyak," argued O'Neil, "andthey evidently haven't studied the bridge as I have. But you'll have togo at the breakwater again or build in from Cortez or give up."

  "No, we have decided to mark time until that crossing is provedfeasible. Understand, I voice the sentiment of the majority."

  "If I build that bridge you may find it more difficult to buy me out,"said O'Neil, quietly.

  "We'll have to take our medicine," Mr. Heidlemann replied, withoutheat. "We cannot afford another mistake."

  "This is definite?"

  "Oh, absolutely! We're going slow for a time."

  A blow in the face could not have affected O'Neil more disagreeablythan this statement. Fortune had seemed within his grasp when heentered the room; now ruin was more imminent than it had ever beenbefore. The ground seemed to be slipping from beneath his feet; hediscovered that he was dizzy. He felt himself utterly incapable ofraising the two million dollars necessary to carry his road to a pointwhere the Trust would consider a purchase, yet to fail meant the lossof all he had put in. He knew also that these men would never recedefrom a position once taken.

  "Hasn't this public clamor had something to do with yourdetermination?" he asked.

  "A great deal. We had the best intentions when we started--we stillhave--but it's time to let the general sentiment cool. We thought wewere doing a fine thing for the country in opening Alaska, but it seemswe're regarded as thieves and grafters. One gets tired of abuse after awhile."

  "Will you take an option on the S. R. & N. conditional upon thebuilding of the bridge?"

  "We couldn't very well do that. Remember you are our rival."Heidlemann smiled in his recognition of the fact that the rivalry wasfriendly. "To do so would fan excitement at Washington to a white heat.We'd then be in the position they now accuse us of occupying, and thatwould have a serious bearing upon the coal situation. No, we can't helpyou, O'Neil, but rest assured we won't do anything to hinder you. Youhave treated us fairly; we will reciprocate. Once you have built yourbridge we can discuss a purchase and the abandonment of our originalenterprise, but meanwhile we must proceed cautiously. It is unfortunatefor us all."

  "Especially for me."

  "You need money badly, don't you?"

  "I'm worse than broke," O'Neil admitted.

  "I'd really be sorry to take over the wreck of your enterprise,"Heidlemann said, earnestly, "for you have made a good fight, and yourideas were better than ours. I'd much prefer to pay your price than toprofit by your misfortune. Needless to say we don't feel that way aboutGordon."

  "There would be no uncertainty about the bridge if I had the money.With your means I could build a road to the moon, and double-track it."

  Although Murray felt that further effort was useless, he continued toargue the matter from various angles, hoping against hope to swayHeidlemann's decision. But he gave up at last. Out in the marble hallwhich led to the elevators he discovered that all his vigor of an hourago had passed. The spring was out of his limbs; he walked slowly, likean old man. A glimpse of his image in the mirrors of the car as he shotdownward showed him a face grave and haggard. The crowds jostled him,but he was hardly conscious of them. The knowledge that his hardestfight was yet to come filled him with sickening apprehension. He waslike a runner who toes the mark for a final heat knowing himself to beupon the verge of collapse.

  The magnitude of the deal narrowed his field of operations alarmingly,and he had already learned what a serious effect upon capital theagitation about Alaska had produced. More than once he had found menwho were willing to invest but feared the effect of public sentiment.Popular magazines, newspapers like The Review, and writers like ElizaAppleton had been largely to blame for the wrong. They hadmisunderstood the problem and misinterpreted the spirit of commercialprogress. But, strangely enough, he felt no bitterness at thought ofEliza. On the contrary, his heart softened in a sort of friendlyyearning for her company. He would have liked to talk the matter overwith her.

  Looking the situation squarely in the face, he realized that he mustface a crash or raise two million dollars within the next month. Thatmeant seventy thousand dollars a day. It was a man-sized task.

  He bought himself a cigar at the corner, hailed a taxicab, and wasdriven all the way up town to the Holland House. Once there, heestablished himself in that corner of the men's cafe which he alwaysfrequented.

  The waiter who served him lingered to say:

  "It's good to see you back in your 'office' again. You've been a longtime away, sir."

  O'Neil smiled as he left a silver dollar on the tray.

  "It's good to be back, Joe," he said. "This time I may not leave."