King Spruce Part 55

Wade went quietly away.

He was John Barrett once more when Wade saw him half an hour later at the head of the big table in the directors' room. All the board was there except Britt.

The lumbermen whom Wade headed stood in solid phalanx at the foot of the room. There were no chairs for them. But they accepted this fact patiently.

Wade, a little in advance of his a.s.sociates, looked into the face of the Honorable John Barrett, now impa.s.sive once more. But there was a strange gleam in the eyes. In the hush it seemed that the directors were waiting for Wade to speak--it was the coldly contemptuous silence of King Spruce ready to hearken.

The young man accepted this waiting as his challenge. He stepped to the lower end of the huge table; John Barrett arose at the other end, and bent forward, leaning on his knuckles.

"Gentlemen," he said, his tone courteous, his air pacificatory, "Mr.

Dwight Wade, of the Enchanted Lumber a.s.sociation is here to-day to confer with us on those matters that have already been considered by us in executive session. I wish first, with your permission, to inform him on one point that we have already decided. My statement will enable us to avoid discussion of an unpleasant matter--I may say, an unprofitable matter."

It was plain to be seen that Mr. Barrett was dominating this session, as he had undoubtedly dominated the preliminary session in which the sentiment of King Spruce towards Dwight Wade had been crystallized.

Somehow the young man understood that the strange look in Barrett's eyes meant rea.s.surance.

"The destruction of Blunder Lake dam was a mistake," continued Barrett, but without even a note of reproach in his voice.

"I am ashamed to have to fight that way for common rights that have been stolen," said the young man. "It's nasty fighting, and I don't want to fight that way any more."

"We don't, either," broke in a director, bluntly. "There's no money in it."

"A moment, gentlemen," interposed Barrett, "I have the floor. I don't propose to speak any ill of an a.s.sociate--an unfortunate a.s.sociate. I refer to Mr. Britt, who has for so many years been our executive in the north woods. But I can say frankly, as I have said to his face, that we have deplored some of his measures as unwise. We have tried to restrain him, but we have not been able to hold him back. Let us be charitable, gentlemen, and say merely that old-fas.h.i.+oned lumbering in this State has been conducted on wrong ideas. The manner of putting in Blunder Lake dam is a case in point. In compromising the present disputes between the timber interests and the other tax-paying interests of the State, I'll be frank to say that the history of that dam would not be helpful.

Prosecuting you, Mr. Wade, would entail going into the history of that dam. Therefore, we shall not prosecute you; and an arrangement has already been made by which you are purged of contempt of court in the matter of the injunction."

He grew earnest.

"You have undoubtedly come here to tell us, Mr. Wade, that the woods are being butchered for immediate profit; that the present system of lumbering forces operators to use destructive measures. But we can't enter into argument on that. We admit it. We have been slow about getting together to correct those abuses. We also admit that the time seems to have arrived when we must have a different system. I have been upon my timber tracts during the past year, and have received new light on a great many matters that I had not taken pains to inform myself on.

I now view the situation differently, and my a.s.sociates have coincided with my views."

For the others it was merely a business confession of error, an appeal for compromise. To Dwight Wade, looking into the eyes of John Barrett and studying his strange expression, it was much more, and his heart beat quickly. "The whole situation will undoubtedly take a new aspect from now on. We propose, on our part, to leave the past just as it is; set mistakes against mistakes, gentlemen, and clean the slates."

He straightened, dropping his air of confidential appeal.

"Next week, gentlemen, the convention of my party will nominate me to be the next governor of this State. I need not tell you that the nomination means election. I fully realize my responsibilities. I propose to a.s.sume them, and to execute them honestly. I declare here before my a.s.sociates, as I shall later to the people of the State, that if I am elected I shall be a governor of the whole people, and not of any faction.

Personally I shall be glad, Mr. Wade, to have you and all others interested come before the next legislature, present complaints and arguments, and let this whole matter be settled justly. You will find that you and your supporters, as well as we, have interests to protect against the demagogues. In the new conditions that are coming to prevail in public matters, those who manage to keep the full measure of their rights are exceedingly fortunate. Against those new conditions it is folly to fight. But in correcting abuses the pendulum sometimes swings too far. I think we can fairly ask you, Mr. Wade, and those operators who may follow your leaders.h.i.+p, to join us in protecting what rightfully belongs to us--to all of us. You will understand that I am offering no hint of bulldozing nor inviting corrupt collusion. It has come to a time when we cannot afford to jeopardize our party or our property, and the safety of both is concerned in a full and frank settlement of this question of the timber lands."

He gazed inquiringly at this young man who had come up to the fortress to fight, and now found fortress and foe dissolving like a mirage. There was but one manly att.i.tude to take towards a public pledge of that sort.

"Mr. Barrett," declared Wade, earnestly, "on that basis you have my honest co-operation." He took his hat. There was no excuse for remaining longer in a directors' meeting of the Umcolcus Lumbering a.s.sociation.

His head whirled with the suddenness of this new situation.

There was a general mumble of indors.e.m.e.nt from the men ma.s.sed at the rear of the room, but one of the group spoke out after a moment's hesitation: "I'm glad to hear you talk of a square deal before next legislature, Mr. Barrett, but I can't help rememberin' that when some of us went up to the state-house two years ago, to see if we couldn't get a few rights, we b.u.t.ted square up against a lobby that was handlin' some fifteen thousand dollars of King Spruce's money to beat us with, and to keep things right where they were."

There was no mistaking Barrett's sincerity now.

"Gentlemen," he cried, "I have just been admitting that there have been mistakes made in handling this matter. I didn't intend to go into details. It is not a pleasant task. But when I say that this matter shall have fair and square hearing in future, I mean it. And I pledge for myself and my a.s.sociates--call us 'King Spruce,' if that means most to you--that not one dollar will be used by us in the next legislature, except for expenses of counsel and witnesses before the committees--the same legitimate expenses that you of the opposition will incur."

There was no Thomas among them who could persist in the face of a declaration like that. They dispersed.

Barrett overtook Wade in the corridor, slipped his hand beneath the young man's arm, and, without a word, led him back into the private office.

"I want to ask you a question, Mr. Wade," he said, still holding him by the arm. "Once, in stress of feelings and under peculiar circ.u.mstances, I promised certain things and did not fulfil them. You therefore have a perfect right to be sceptical as to my good faith now. I ask you--are you?"

"No, Mr. Barrett, I am not," returned Wade, with simple earnestness.

"Thank you, my boy!" His voice broke on the words. "When even a square and clean man gets to my age he begins to realize that the world is a bigger creditor of his than he had figured in the past," he went on, after a pause. "In the last few months I have had some bills presented to me that have found me a miserable bankrupt in spite of what my vault holds. You know what my debts are. Linus Lane was right when he told me that my kind of currency couldn't pay those debts. The dead have gone, leaving me their debtor; the living hold me their debtor still. My boy, when I realize what I owe and how useless that stuff is in there"--he shook his hand at the open door of the vault--"I loathe my money! You know what I owe to one child, and you have brought me word that I can never pay her. You know just as well what I owe to another child--I have taken from her most of her faith and love and happiness. Thank G.o.d, I can pay that debt in part, and I know the human heart well enough now to understand that I shall be paying the greater part."

He left Wade abruptly, and walked to the window and looked down into the street. He beckoned to the young man without turning his head. Wade, coming to his side, saw Elva Barrett's pony phaeton.

"I told my creditor to come here, and you see she is prompt," said Barrett, with a wistful smile. "She has accepted what I offer in settlement of my debt, and I offer you my hand, and tell you, with all the earnestness of my soul, that since I have come to realize values I approve my creditor's judgment. I have agreed to pay promptly on demand.

Don't keep her waiting."

He pushed his "collateral" out into the corridor, and shut the door behind him.

Wade ran down the stairway, his hat in his hand, and came upon the sidewalk into the glare of the June suns.h.i.+ne. She was there! The silk of the phaeton's parasol strained a soft and tender light upon her face, and her glorious eyes received him, coming towards her, as though into an embrace. He swayed a little as he crossed the sidewalk, for his eyes swam. And before he reached her he turned and cast one look back at the great building behind him. He seemed to want to rea.s.sure himself about something--to see solid bricks and stone--to convince himself that it was not a fairy palace in which he had so amazingly and suddenly found the full fruition of all his hopes.

"What have they been doing to you in the ogres' den, Dwight, boy?" she asked, a ripple of laughter in her voice.

"I--I don't know!" he stammered. "It all happened so suddenly. Take me away, sweetheart, where I can see a tree. I want to find my bearings once more!"

The pony trotted away demurely--so demurely that the girl surrendered one hand to him, and he held it tight-clutched between them, wordless, a mist in his eyes.

"Then it did astonish you, after all?" she ventured, breaking the silence.

For reply he pressed her hand. She was first to speak again.

"I know what a strange boy you are, Dwight," she said, with a touch of humor in her tones. "For the peace of your soul for ever and ever, and the satisfaction of your pride, I want to tell you that my father offered me to you--I did not beg you from my father; but"--she hesitated and looked at him slyly--"I didn't question the legal tender! Now that you are a business man, I suppose we ought to use business terms!"

But with his great love s.h.i.+ning in his eyes, he pointed away from the staring houses, where the road wound on under the trees and the peace of perfect understanding lay beneath.

THE END