The Iron Trail. Rex Beach

seemed incredible that Gordon should jeopardize her holdings and his own. More likely his attitude was just a part of his pose, designed to show the bigness of his views and to shed a greater luster upon his railroad project.

      It was difficult to escape from the hospitality of Hope, and O'Neil succeeded in doing so only after an argument with Natalie and her mother. They let him go at last only upon his promise to return on his way back from the coal-fields, and they insisted upon accompanying him down to the dock, whither Gordon had preceded them in order to have his motor-boat in readiness.

      As they neared the landing they overheard the latter in spirited debate with "Happy Tom" Slater.

      "But my dear fellow," he was saying, "I can't lose you and Appleton on the same day."

      "You can't? Why, you've done it!" the fat man retorted, gruffly.

      "I refuse to be left in the lurch this way. You must give more notice."

      Slater shrugged, and without a word tossed his bulging war bag into the motor-boat which lay moored beneath him. His employer's face was purple with rage as he turned to Murray and the ladies, but he calmed himself sufficiently to say:

      "This man is in charge of important work for me, yet he tells me you have hired him away."

      "Tom!" exclaimed O'Neil.

      "I never said that," protested Slater. "I only told you I was working for Murray."

      "Well?"

      "I hired myself. He didn't have anything to say about it. I do all the hiring, firing, and boosting in my department."

      "I appeal to you, O'Neil. I'm short-handed," Gordon cried.

      "I tell you he don't have a word to say about it," Slater declared with heat.

      Natalie gave a little tinkling laugh. She recognized in this man the melancholy hero of more than one tale "The Irish Prince" had told her. Murray did his best, but knowing "Happy Tom's" calm obstinacy of old, he had no real hope of persuading him.

      "You see how it is," he said, finally. "He's been with me for years and he refuses to work for any one else while I'm around. If I don't take him with me he'll follow."

      Mr. Slater nodded vigorously, then imparted these tidings:

      "It's getting late, and my feet hurt." He bowed to the women, then lowered himself ponderously yet carefully over the edge of the dock and into the leather cushions of the launch. Once safely aboard, he took a package of wintergreen chewing-gum from his pocket and began to chew, staring out across the sound with that placid, speculative enjoyment which reposes in the eyes of a cow at sunset.

      Curtis Gordon's face was red and angry as he shook hands stiffly with his guest and voiced the formal hope that they would meet again.

      "I'm glad to be gone," Slater observed as the speed-boat rushed across the bay. "I'm a family man, and—I've got principles. Gordon's got neither."

      "It was outrageous for you to walk out so suddenly. It embarrassed me."

      "Oh, he'd let me go without notice if he felt like it. He fired Dan Appleton this afternoon just for telling the truth about the mine. That's what I'd have got if I'd stayed on much longer. I was filling up with words and my skin was getting tight. I'd have busted, sure, inside of a week."

      "Isn't the mine any good?"

      "It ain't a mine at all. It's nothing but an excavation filled with damn fools and owned by idiots; still, I s'pose it serves Gordon's purpose." After a pause he continued: "They tell me that snakes eat their own young! Gordon ought to call that mine the Anaconda, for it'll swallow its own dividends and all the money those Eastern people can raise."

      "I'm sorry for Mrs. Gerard."

      Slater emitted a sound like the moist exhalation of a porpoise as it rises to the surface.

      "What do you mean by that snort?" asked Murray.

      "It's funny how much some people are like animals. Now the ostrich thinks that when his head is hid his whole running-gear is out of sight. Gordon's an ostrich. As for you—you remind me of a mud turtle. A turtle don't show nothing but his head, and when it's necessary he can yank that under cover. Gordon don't seem to realize that he sticks up above the underbrush—either that or else he don't care who sees him. He and that woman—"

      "Never mind her," exclaimed O'Neil, quickly. "I'm sure you're mistaken."

      Mr. Slater grunted once more, then chewed his gum silently, staring mournfully into the twilight. After a moment he inquired:

      "Why don't you show these people how to build a railroad, Murray?"

      "No, thank you! I know the country back of here. It's not feasible."

      "The Copper Trust is doing it."

      "All the more reason why I shouldn't. There are five projects under way now, and there won't be more than enough traffic for one."

      Slater nodded. "Every man who has two dollars, a clean shirt, and a friend at Washington has got a railroad scheme up his sleeve."

      "It will cost thirty million dollars to build across those three divides and into the copper country. When the road is done it will be one of heavy grades, and—"

      "No wonder you didn't get the contract from the Heidlemanns—if your estimate was thirty million."

      "I didn't put in a figure."

      Tom looked surprised. "Why didn't you? You know them."

      "I was like the little boy who didn't go to the party—I wasn't asked." The speaker's expression showed that his pride had been hurt and discouraged further questioning. "We'll hire our men and our boats to-night," he announced. "I've arranged for that freighter to drop us off at Omar on her way out. We'll have to row from there to Kyak. I expected to land my horses at the coast and pack in from Kyak Bay, but that shipwreck changed my plans. Poor brutes! After my experience I'll never swim horses in this water again."

      An eleven-o'clock twilight enveloped Cortez when the two men landed, but the town was awake. The recent railway and mining activity in the neighborhood had brought a considerable influx of people to King Phillip Sound, and the strains of music from dance-hall doors, the click of checks and roulette balls from the saloons, gave evidence of an unusual prosperity.

      O'Neil had no difficulty in securing men. Once he was recognized, the scenes at Hope were re-enacted, and there was a general scramble to enlist upon his pay-roll. Within an hour, therefore, his arrangements were made, and he and Tom repaired to Callahan's Hotel for a few hours' sleep.

      A stud game was going on in the barroom when they entered, and O'Neil paused to watch it while Slater spoke to one of the players, a clean-cut, blond youth of whimsical countenance. When the two friends finally faced the bar for their "nightcap" Tom explained:

      "That's Appleton, the fellow Gordon fired to-day. I told him I'd left the old man flat."

      "Is he a friend of yours?"

      "Sure. Nice boy—good engineer, too."

      "Umph! That game is crooked."

      "No?" "Happy Tom" displayed a flash of interest.

      "Yes, Cortez is fast becoming a metropolis, I see. The man in the derby hat is performing a little feat that once cost me four thousand dollars to learn."

      "I'd better split Dan away," said Tom, hastily.

      "Wait! Education is a good thing, even if it is expensive at times. I fancy your friend is bright enough to take care of himself. Let's wait a bit."

      "Ain't that just my blamed luck?" lamented Slater. "Now if they were playing faro I could make a killing. I'd 'copper' Appleton's bets and 'open' the ones he coppered!"

      O'Neil smiled, for "Happy Tom's" caution in money matters was notorious. "You know you don't believe in gambling," he said.

      "It's