The Blue Goose Page 14

  CHAPTER XIV

  _Blinded Eyes_

  An old proverb advises us to be sure we are right, then go ahead. To thelast part of the proverb Hartwell was paying diligent heed; the first,so far as he was concerned, he took for granted. Hartwell was carryingout energetically his declared intention of informing himself generally.He was accumulating a vast fund of data on various subjects connectedwith the affairs of the Rainbow Company, and he was deriving greatsatisfaction from the contemplation of the quantity. The idea of aproper valuation of its quality never occurred to him. A caterpillar inaction is a very vigorous insect; but by means of two short sticksjudiciously shifted by a designing mind he can be made to work himselfto a state of physical exhaustion, and yet remain precisely at the samepoint from whence he started.

  Hartwell's idea was a fairly laudable one, being nothing more nor lessthan to get at both sides of the question at issue individually fromeach of the interested parties. Early and late he had visited the mineand mill. He had interviewed men and foremen impartially, and the amountof information which these simple sons of toil instilled into hisreceptive mind would have aroused the suspicions of a less self-centredman.

  Of all the sources of information which Hartwell was vigorouslyexploiting, Luna, on the whole, was the most satisfactory. His guilelesssimplicity carried weight with Hartwell, and this weight was added to bya clumsy deference that assumed Hartwell's unquestioned superiority.

  "You see, Mr. Hartwell, it's like this. There's no need me telling you;you can see it for yourself, better than I can tell it. But it's allright your asking me. You've come out here to size things up generally."Luna was not particularly slow in getting on to curves, as he expressedit. "And so you are sizing me up a bit to see do I know my business andhave my eyes open." He tipped a knowing wink at Hartwell. Hartwellnodded, with an appreciative grin, but made no further reply. Luna wenton:

  "You see, it's like this, as I was saying. Us labouring men are sharpabout some things. We have to be, or we would get done up at every turn.We know when a boss knows his business and when he don't. But it don'tmake no difference whether he does or whether he don't, we have to standin with him. We'd lose our jobs if we didn't. I'm not above learningfrom anyone. I ain't one as thinks he knows it all. I'm willing tolearn. I'm an old mill man. Been twenty years in a mill--all my life, asyou might say--and I'm learning all the time. Just the other day I goton to a new wrinkle. I was standing watching Tommy; he's battery man onFive. Tommy was hanging up his battery on account of a loose tappet.Tommy he just hung up the stamp next the one with the loose tappet, andinstead of measuring down, he just drove the tappet on a level with theother, and keyed her up, and had them dropping again inside of threeminutes. I watched him, and when he'd started them, I up and says toTommy, 'Tommy,' says I, 'I'm an old mill man, but that's a new one onme!' Tommy was as pleased as a boy with a pair of red-topped,copper-toed boots. It's too bad they don't make them kind any more; butthen, they don't wear out as fast as the new kind. But, as I was saying,some bosses would have dropped on Tommy for that, and told him theydidn't want no green men trying new capers."

  Luna paused and looked at Hartwell. Hartwell still beamed approbation,and, after casting about for a moment, Luna went on:

  "You see, a boss don't know everything, even if he has been to college.Most Eastern companies don't know anything. They send out a boss tosuperintend their work, and they get just what he tells them, and nomore. None of the company men ever come out here to look for themselves.I ain't blaming them in general. They don't know. Now it's truth I'mtelling you. I'm an old mill man. Been in the business twenty years, asI was telling you, and your company's the first I ever knew sending aman out to find what's the matter, who knew his business, and wa'n't toobig to speak to a common workman, and listen to his side of the story."

  It was a strong dose, but Hartwell swallowed it without a visible gulp.Even more. He was immensely pleased. He was gaining the confidence ofthe honest toiler, and he would get the unvarnished truth.

  "This is all interesting, very interesting to me, Mr. Luna. I'm a verystrict man in business, but I try to be just. I'm a very busy man, andmy time is so thoroughly taken up that I am often very abrupt. You see,it's always so with a business man. He has to decide at once and withthe fewest possible words. But I'm always ready to talk over things withmy men. If I haven't got time, I make it."

  "It's a pity there ain't more like you, Mr. Hartwell. There wouldn't beso much trouble between capital and labour. But, as I was saying, welabouring men are honest in our way, and we have feelings, too."

  Luna was getting grim. He deemed that the proper time had arrived forputting his personal ax upon the whirling grindstone. He looked fixedlyat Hartwell.

  "As I was saying, Mr. Hartwell, us labouring men is honest. We believein giving a fair day's work for a fair day's pay, and it grinds us tohave the boss come sneaking in on us any time, day or night, just like aChina herder. He ain't running the mill all the time, and he don't knowabout things. Machinery won't run itself, and, as I was saying, thereain't no man knows it all. And if the boss happens to catch two or threeof us talking over how to fix up a battery, or key up a loosebull-wheel, he ain't no right to say that we're loafing and neglectingour business, and jack us up for it. As I said, Mr. Hartwell, thelabouring man is honest; but if we're sneaked on as if we wasn't,'tain't going to be very long before they'll put it up that, if they'regoing to be hung for sheep-stealing, they'll have the sheep first,anyway."

  Luna paused more for emphasis than for approbation. That he could see inevery line of Hartwell's face. At length he resumed:

  "As I said, that ain't all by a long shot. There's all sorts ofpipe-dreams floating around about men's stealing from the mine andstealing from the mill. But, man to man, Mr. Hartwell, ain't thesuperintendent got a thousand chances to steal, and steal big, where acommon workman ain't got one?" Luna laid vicious emphasis on the lastwords, and his expression gave added weight to his words.

  To do Hartwell simple justice, dishonesty had never for an instantassociated itself in his mind with Firmstone. He deemed him inefficientand lacking a grasp of conditions; but, brought face to face with aquestion of honesty, there was repugnance at the mere suggestion. Hisface showed it. Luna caught the look instantly and began to mend hisbreak.

  "I'm not questioning any man's honesty. But it's just like this. Why isit that a poor labouring man is always suspected and looked out for, andthose as has bigger chances goes free? That's all, and, man to man, I'masking you if that's fair."

  Luna's garrulity was taking a line which Hartwell had no desire toinvestigate, for the present, at least. He answered directly andabruptly:

  "When a man loses a dollar, he makes a fuss about it. When he loses athousand, he goes on a still hunt."

  Luna took his cue. He winked knowingly. "That's all right. You know yourbusiness. That's plain as a squealing pulley howling for oil. But Iwasn't telling you all these things because you needed to be told.Anyone can see that you can just help yourself. I just wanted to tellyou so that you could see that us labouring men ain't blind, even ifeveryone don't see with eyes of his own the way you're doing. You arethe first gentleman that has ever given me the chance, and I'm obligedto you for it. So's the men, too."

  Hartwell felt that, for the present, he had gained sufficientinformation, and prepared to go.

  "I'm greatly obliged to you, Mr. Luna, for the information you and yourmen have given me." He held out his hand cordially. "Don't hesitate tocome to me at any time."

  Hartwell had pursued the same tactics at the mine, and with the sameresults. He had carefully refrained from mentioning Firmstone's name,and the men had followed his lead. Hartwell made a very common mistake.He underrated the mental calibre of the men. He assumed that, becausethey wore overalls and jumpers, their eyes could not follow the peaunder the shell which he was nimbly manipulating. In plain English, hewas getting points on Firmstone by the simple ruse of omitting tomention his name. There was anot
her and far more important point thatnever occurred to him. By his course of action he was completelyundermining Firmstone's authority. There is not a single workman whowill ever let slip an opportunity to give a speeding kick to a fallingboss on general principles, if not from personal motives. Hartwell nevertook this factor into consideration. His vanity was flattered by thedeference paid to him, never for a moment dreaming that the bulk of thesubstance and the whole of the flavour of the incense burned under hisnose was made up of resentment against Firmstone, nor that the waningstores were nightly replenished at the Blue Goose. Had Hartwell remainedEast, as devoutly hoped by Firmstone, it is all but certain thatFirmstone's methods would have averted the trouble which was dailygrowing more threatening.

  Hartwell had occasionally dropped in for a social drink at the BlueGoose, and the deferential welcome accorded to him was very flattering.Each occasion was but the prologue to another and more extended visit.The open welcome tendered him by both Pierre and Morrison had whollyneutralised the warnings embodied in Firmstone's reports. He was certainthat Firmstone had mistaken for deep and unscrupulous villains a pair ofgood-natured oafs who preferred to make a living by selling whisky andrunning a gambling outfit, to pounding steel for three dollars a day.

  In starting out on the conquest of the Blue Goose, Hartwell acted on anerroneous concept of the foibles of humanity. The greatness of others isof small importance in comparison with one's own. The one who ignoresthis truth is continually pulling a cat by the tail, and this isproverbially a hard task. Hartwell's plan was first to create animpression of his own importance in order that it might excite awe, andthen, by gracious condescension, to arouse a loyal and respectfuldevotion. Considering the object of this attack, he was making a doubleerror. Pierre was not at all given to the splitting of hairs, but incombing them along the line of least resistance he was an adept.

  Hartwell, having pacified the mine and the mill, had moved to thesanctum of the Blue Goose, with the idea of furthering his benigninfluence. Hartwell, Morrison, and Pierre were sitting around a table inthe private office, Hartwell impatient for action, Pierre unobtrusivelyalert, Morrison cocksure to the verge of insolence.

  "Meestaire Hartwell will do me ze honaire to mek ze drink?" Pierreinquired.

  "Thanks." Hartwell answered the question addressed to him. "Mine isbrandy."

  "A-a-ah! Ze good discrimination!" purred Pierre. "Not ze whisky from zerotten grain; but ze _eau-de-vie_ wiz ze fire of ze sun and ze sweet ofze vine!"

  Morrison placed glasses before each, a bottle of soda, and Pierre'schoicest brand of cognac on the table.

  "Help yourself," he remarked, as he sat down.

  Sipping his brandy and soda, Hartwell opened the game.

  "You see," he began, addressing Pierre, "things aren't running verysmoothly out here, and I have come out to size up the situation. Thefact is, I'm the only one of our company who knows a thing about mining.It's only a side issue with me, but I can't well get out of it. Mypeople look to me to help them out, and I've got to do it."

  "Your people have ze great good fortune--ver' great." Pierre bowedsmilingly.

  Hartwell resumed: "I'm a fair man. I have now what I consider sufficientknowledge to warrant me in making some radical changes out here; but Iwant to get all the information possible, and from every possiblesource. Then I can act with a perfectly clear conscience." He spokedecidedly, as he refilled his glass.

  "Then fire that glass-eyed supe of yours," Morrison burst out. "Younever had any trouble till he came."

  Hartwell looked mild reproach. Morrison was going too fast. There was apause. Morrison again spoke, this time sullenly and without raising hiseyes.

  "He's queered himself with the men. They'll do him if he stays. Theyain't going to stand his sneaking round and treating them like dogs.They----"

  "Mistaire Mo-reeson speak bad English, ver' bad." Pierre's words cut inlike keen-edged steel. "On ze odder side ze door, it not mek so muchmattaire."

  Morrison left the room without a word further. There was a look ofsullen satisfaction on his face. Hartwell smiled approvingly at Pierre.

  "You've got your man cinched all right."

  "Hall but ze tongue." Pierre shrugged his shoulders, with a slight waveof his hands.

  "Well," Hartwell resumed, "I want to get at the bottom of this stagebusiness. Fifty thousand doesn't matter so much to us; it's the thingback of it. What I want to know is whether it was an accident, orwhether it was a hold-up."

  "Feefty tousand dollaire!" Pierre spoke musingly. "She bin a lot ofmonnaie. A whole lot." Pierre hesitated, then looked up at Hartwell.

  "Well?" Hartwell asked.

  "How you know she bin feefty tousand dollaire hin ze safe?"

  "Mr. Firmstone advised me of its shipment."

  "_Bien!_ Ze safe, where she bin now?"

  "In the river."

  "A-a-ah! You bin see her, heh?"

  "No. The water's too high."

  "When ze wattaire bin mek ze godown, you bin find her, heh?"

  "I suppose so."

  "_Bien!_ Mek ze suppose. When ze wattaire mek ze godown, you not find zesafe?"

  To some extent, Hartwell had anticipated Pierre's drift, but hepreferred to let him take his own course.

  "It would look as if someone had got ahead of us."

  Pierre waved his hand impatiently. "Feefty tousand dollaire bin wholelot monnaie. Big lot men like feefty tousand dollaire, ver' big lot.Bimeby somebody get ze safe. Zey find no feefty tousand dollaire--onlypig lead, heh?" Pierre looked up shrewdly. "Ze men no mek ze talk 'boutfeefty tousand dollaire, no mek ze talk 'bout honly pig lead, heh?"

  "You think, then, the bullion was never put into the safe?" Hartwell hadhardly gone so far as Pierre. "In other words, that Mr. Firmstone keptout the bullion, planned the wreck, caused the report to be spread thatthere was fifty thousand in the safe, with the idea of either putting itout of the way himself, or that someone else would get it?"

  Pierre looked up with well-feigned surprise.

  "_Moi?_" he asked. "_Moi?_" He shrugged his shoulders. "I mek ze fact,ze suppose. You mek ze conclude."

  Hartwell looked puzzled.

  "But," he said, "if what you say is true, there is no other conclusion."

  Pierre again shrugged his shoulders impatiently.

  "_Bien!_ I mek no conclude. You mek ze conclude. Ze suppose mek zeconclude. She's bin no mattaire _a moi_. I mek no conclude." Pierre'swords and manner both intimated that, so far as he was concerned, theinterview was closed.

  Pierre was a merciful man and without malice. When he felt that hisdagger had made a mortal thrust he never turned it in the wound. In thisinterview circumstances had forced him farther than he cared to go. Hewas taking chances, and he knew it. Zephyr was booked to disappear.Others than Zephyr were watching the river. But Zephyr might escape; thecompany might recover the money. What, then? Only his scheme would havemiscarried. The recovery of the money would clear Firmstone and leavehim where he was before. Pierre's diagnosis of Hartwell was to theeffect that, if an idea was once lodged in his mind, an earthquake wouldnot jar it out again. Even in this event Pierre's object would beaccomplished. Firmstone would have to go.

  Hartwell made several ineffectual attempts to draw out Pierre stillfarther, but the wily Frenchman baffled him at every turn. And there thematter rested. Had Hartwell taken less of Pierre's good brandy, he wouldhardly have taken so freely of his sinister suggestions. As it was, themellow liquor began to impart a like virtue to his wits, and led him toclap the little Frenchman's back, as he declared his belief that Pierrewas a slick bird, but that his own plumage was smoothly preened as well.Followed by Pierre, he rose to leave the room. His eyes fell upon Elise,sitting quietly at her desk, and he halted.

  His outstretched hand had hardly touched the unsuspecting girl whenPierre caught him by the collar, and, with a twist and shove, sent himstaggering half-way across the room. Little short of murder was blazingfrom Pierre's eyes.

  "_Crapaud!_" h
e hissed. "You put ze fingaire hon my li'l Elise! _Sacremille tonnerre!_ I kill you!" Pierre started as if to carry out histhreat, but restraining hands held him back, while other hands and feetbuffeted and kicked the dazed Hartwell into the street.

  The safe guarding of Elise was the one bright spot in Pierre's veryshady career. To the fact that it was bright and strong his turning onHartwell bore testimony. Every point in Pierre's policy had dictatedconciliation and sufferance; but now this was cast aside. Pierre rapidlygained control of his temper, but he shifted his animus from the lust ofgain to the glutting of revenge.