The Road Builders Part 28

"... for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For ... this mortal must put on immortality."

At the conclusion of the service Young Van, deeply moved, looked about for his brother. But it seemed that the same impulse had come to them both, for he heard a gruff, familiar voice behind him:--

"Look here, Gus, don't you think you've been sort of a d--n fool about this business?"

The young fellow wheeled around with a glad look in his eyes. He saw that his brother was scowling, was not even extending his hand, and yet he knew how much those rough words meant. "Yes," he replied frankly, "I think I have."

Old Van nodded, and they walked back to breakfast, side by side. Only once was the silence broken, when Gus said, with some slight hesitation: "What are you going to do next?--Coming back to Sherman with us?"

And Old Van turned his face away and looked off down the river and walked along for a few moments without replying. Then, "No," he finally got out, "guess I'll take a little vacation." He paused, still looking away, and they strode on down the slope. "Going over into Arizona with an outfit," he added huskily.

CHAPTER X

WHAT TOOK PLACE AT RED HILLS

The last spike in the western extension of the Sherman and Western was driven by no less a personage than President De Reamer himself. In the circle of well-dressed men about him stood General Carrington and a score of department heads of the two lines. The thirty miles of track between the La Paz and Red Hills was laid, without unusual incident, in twenty days--a brilliant finish to what had been a record-breaking performance.

There was to be a dinner at the Frisco Hotel. Everybody knew now that General Carrington had promised to be there and to speak a felicitous word or two welcoming the new C. & S. C. connection. After the spike-driving, Mr. De Reamer, a thin, saturnine figure, could be seen moving about through the little crowd. Once, it was observed, he and General Carrington drew aside and talked in low, earnest tones. The reporters were there, of course, and to these the president was urbane. They had gathered at first about the General, but he had waved them off with a smiling "Talk with my friend De Reamer there. He deserves whatever credit there may be in this thing." And next these keen-eyed, beardless men of the press bore down in a little group on Carhart, Tiffany, and Young Van, who were standing apart. Tiffany was the first to see them approaching.

"Not a word, boys," he said in a low voice.

"Why not?" asked Young Van. "I don't know of anybody who deserves more credit than you two."

"Not a word," Tiffany repeated. "It would cost me my job. Mr. De Reamer's crazy mad now because so much has been said about Paul here.

I don't care to get into it,--just excuse me."

The reporters were upon them. "Is that Mr. Tiffany?" asked one, indicating the retreating figure.

Carhart nodded.

"Is it true, Mr. Carhart," asked another, "that he came out and fought under you at the La Paz?"

Carhart smiled. President De Reamer was pa.s.sing with Mr. Chambers and had paused only a few feet away. "There wasn't any fighting at the La Paz," he replied.

"There is a grave there," the questioner persisted.

"How do you know?"

"I rode out and saw it."

"Then you should have ridden back the length of the line and you would have found a few other graves." The chief sobered. "You can't keep a thousand to two thousand men at work in the desert for months without losing a few of them. I'm sorry that this is so, but it is."

"Mr. Carhart," came another abrupt question, this time from the keenest-appearing reporter of them all, "What did you say to General Carrington and Commodore Durfee when you saw them at the Frisco?"

Young Van looked at his chief and saw that the faintest of twinkles was in his eyes. He glanced over his shoulder and made out that De Reamer had paused in his conversation with Mr. Chambers, and was listening to catch Carhart's reply. For himself, Young Van was blazing with anger that this man, who had in his eyes fairly dragged De Reamer through to a successful termination of the fight, should be robbed of what seemed to him the real reward. He had still something to learn of the way of the world, and everything to learn of the way of Wall Street. Then he heard Carhart replying:--

"You must ask Mr. De Reamer about that. He directs the policy of the Sherman and Western."

And at this the president of the melancholy visage, and with him his vice-president, pa.s.sed on out of earshot.

"Mr. Carhart,"--the reporters were still at it,--"one of your a.s.sistants, J. B. Flint, was carried on a cot the other day to the C.

& S. C. station and put on a train. What was the matter with him?"

Carhart hesitated. Personally he cared not at all whether the facts were or were not given to the public. He felt little pleasure in lying about them. Engineers as a cla.s.s do not lie very well. But he was doing the work of the Sherman and Western, and the Sherman and Western, for a mixture of reasons, wished the facts covered. And then, somewhat to his relief, the youngest reporter in the group blundered out the question which let him off with half a lie.

"Is it true, Mr. Carhart," asked this reporter, "that Mr. Flint has been really an invalid for years?"

"Yes," Carhart replied cheerfully, "it is true."

The party seemed to be breaking up. Tiffany caught Young Van's eye, and beckoned. "Come on!" he called--"the Dinner!"

"They are starting, Mr. Carhart," said Young Van.

"Are they? All right.--That's all, boys. You can say, with perfect truth, that the Sherman and Western has been completed to Red Hills."

"And that the H. D. & W. hasn't," cried the youngest reporter.

Carhart laughed. "The H. D. & W. will have to do its own talking," he replied.

"But they aren't doing any."

"Can't help that," said Carhart. "No more--no more!" And with Young Van he walked off toward the Frisco.

After the dinner the party broke up. Flint and Haddon went West with the Chicago and Southern California officials. The others, who were to start eastward in the late evening, rode off for a shoot on the plains. And it fell out that Carhart and Young Van, who had, from different motives, declined the ride, were left together at the hotel.

"What are you going to do now, Gus?" asked the chief.

Young Van hesitated, then gave way to a nervous smile. Carhart glanced keenly at him, and observed that he had lost color and that the pupils of his eyes were dilated. Now that the strain was over he was himself conscious of a severe physical let-down, and he was not surprised to learn that his a.s.sistant was completely unstrung.

Neither was he surprised to hear this hesitating yet perfectly honest reply: "I've been thinking I'd start at the first saloon and drink to the other end of town. Want to come along?"

"No," Carhart replied, "I don't believe I will, thanks. I meant to ask what work you plan to take up next?"

"Nothing at all."

"Nothing!--why so?"

"That is easy to answer." Young Van laughed bitterly. "I have no offers."

"I'm surprised at that."

"You don't really mean that, Mr. Carhart?"