The Impostor Part 43

The offer was made and accepted quietly, and when a rough draft of the arrangement had been agreed upon, Graham nodded as he lighted another cigar.

"You may as well take hold at once, and there's work ready now," he said. "You've heard of the old St. Louis mills back on the edge of the bush country. Never did any good. Folks who had them were short of dollars, and didn't know how they should be run. Well, I and two other men have bought them for a song, and while the place is tumbling in, the plant seems good. Now, I can get hold of orders for flour when I want them, and everybody with dollars to spare will plank them right into any concern handling food-stuffs this year. You go down to-morrow with an engineer, and, when you've got the mills running and orders coming in, we'll sell out to a company if we don't want them."

Witham sat silent a s.p.a.ce, turning over a big bundle of plans and estimates. Then he said, "You'll have to lay out a pile of dollars."

Graham laughed. "That's going to be your affair. When you want them the dollars will be ready, and there's only one condition. Every dollar we put down has got to bring another in."

"But," said Witham, "I don't know anything about milling."

"Then," said Graham dryly, "you have got to learn. A good many men have got quite rich in this country running things they didn't know much about when they took hold of them."

"There's one more point," said Witham. "I must make those thirty thousand dollars soon, or they'll be no great use to me, and when I have them I may want to leave you."

"That's all right," said Graham. "By the time you've done it, you'll have made sixty for me. We'll go out and have some lunch to clinch the deal if you're ready."

It might have appeared unusual in England, but it was much less so in a country where the specialization of professions is still almost unknown, and the man who can adapt himself attains ascendency, and on the morrow Witham arrived at a big wooden building beside a pine-shrouded river. It appeared falling to pieces, and the engineer looked disdainfully at some of the machinery, but, somewhat against his wishes, he sat up with his companion most of the night in a little log hotel, and orders that occasioned one of Graham's a.s.sociates consternation were mailed to the city next morning. Then machines came out by the carload, and men with tools in droves. Some of them murmured mutinously when they found they were expected to do as much as their leader who was not a tradesman, but these were forthwith sent back again, and the rest were willing to stay and earn the premium he promised them for rapid work.

Before the frost grew Arctic, the building stood firm and the hammers rang inside it night and day until when the ice had bound the dam and lead the fires were lighted and the trials under steam again. It cost more than water, but buyers with orders from the East were clamouring for flour just then. For a fortnight Witham s.n.a.t.c.hed his food in mouthfuls, and scarcely closed his eyes, when Graham found him pale and almost haggard when he came down with several men from the cities in response to a telegram. For an hour they moved up and down, watching whirring belt and humming roller, and then, whitened with the dust, stood very intent and quiet while one of them dipped up a little flour from the delivery hopper. His opinions on, and dealings in that product were famous in the land. He said nothing for several minutes, and then, brus.h.i.+ng the white dust from his hands, turned with a little smile to Graham.

"We'll have some baked, but I don't know that there's much use for it.

This will grade a very good first," he said. "You can book me the thousand two eighties for a beginning now."

Witham's fingers trembled, but there was a twinkle in Graham's eyes as he brought his hand down on his shoulder.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I was figuring right on this when I brought the champagne along. It was all I could do, but Imperial Tokay wouldn't be good enough to rinse this dust down with, when every speck of it that's on you means dollars by the handful rolling in."

It was a very contented and slightly hilarious party that went back to the city, but Witham sat down before a shaded lamp with a wet rag round his head when they left him, and bent over a sheaf of drawings until his eyes grew dim. Then he once more took up a little strip of paper that Graham had given him, and leaned forward with his arms upon the table. The mill was very silent at last, for of all who toiled in it that day one weary man alone sat awake, staring, with aching eyes, in front of him. There was, however, a little smile in them, for roseate visions floated before them. If the promise that strip of paper held out was redeemed, they might be materialized, for those who had toiled and wasted their substance that the eastern peoples might be fed would that year, at least, not go without their reward. Then he stretched out his arms wearily above his head.

"It almost seems that what I have hoped for may be mine," he said.

"Still, there is a good deal to be done first, and not two hours left before I begin it to-morrow."

CHAPTER XXVI

REINSTATION

A year of tireless effort and some anxiety had pa.s.sed since Witham had seen the first load of flour sent to the east, when he and Graham sat talking in their Winnipeg office. The products of the St. Louis mills were already in growing demand, and Graham appeared quietly contented as he turned over the letters before him. When he laid down the last one, however, he glanced at his companion somewhat anxiously.

"We have got to fix up something soon," he said. "I have booked all the St. Louis can turn out for six months ahead, and the syndicate is ready to take the business over, though I don't know quite whether it would be wise to let them. It seems to me that milling is going to pay tolerably well for another year, and if I knew what you were wanting, it would suit me better."

"I told you I wanted thirty thousand dollars," said Witham quietly.

"You've got them," said Graham. "When the next balance comes out you'll have a good many more. The question is, what you're going to do with them now they're yours?"

Witham took out a letter from Dane and pa.s.sed it across to Graham.

"I'm sorry to tell you the Colonel is getting no better," it ran. "The specialist we brought in seems to think he will never be quite himself again, and now he has let the reins go, things are falling to pieces at Silverdale. Somebody left Atterly a pile of money, and he is going back to the old country, Carshalton is going, too; and, as they can't sell out to any one we don't approve of, the rest insisted on my seeing you. I purpose starting to-morrow."

"What happened to Colonel Barrington?" asked Graham.

"His sleigh turned over," said Witham. "Horse trampled on him, and it was an hour or two before his hired man could get him under shelter."

"You would be content to turn farmer again?"

"I think I would," said Witham. "At least, at Silverdale."

Graham made a little grimace. "Well," he said resignedly, "I guess it's human nature; but I'm thankful now and then there's nothing about me but my dollars that would take the eye of any young woman. I figure they're kind of useful to wake up a man so he'll stir round looking for something to offer one of them, but he is apt to find his business must go second when she has got it and him, and he has to waste on house fixings what would give a man a fair start in life. Still, it's no use talking. What have you told him?"

Witham laughed a little. "Nothing," he said. "I will let him come, and you shall have my decision when I've been to Silverdale."

It was next day when Dane arrived at Winnipeg, and Witham listened gravely to all he had to tell him.

"I have two questions to ask," he said. "Would the others be unanimous in receiving me, and does Colonel Barrington know of your mission?"

"Yes to both," said Dane. "We haven't a man there who would not hold out his hand to you, and Barrington has been worrying and talking a good deal about you lately. He seems to fancy nothing has gone right at Silverdale since you left it, and others share his opinion. The fact is, the old man is losing his grip tolerably rapidly."

"Then," said Witham quietly, "I'll go down with you, but I can make no promise until I have heard the others."

Dane smiled a little. "That is all I want. I don't know whether I told you that Maud Barrington is there. Would to-morrow suit you?"

"No," said Witham. "I will come to-day."

It was early next morning when they stepped out of the stove-warmed car into the stinging cold of the prairie. Fur-clad figures, showing shapeless in the creeping light, cl.u.s.tered about them, and Witham felt himself thumped on the shoulders by mittened hands, while Alfreton's young voice broke through the murmurs of welcome.

"Let him alone while he's hungry," he said. "It's the first time in its history they've had breakfast ready at this hour in the hotel, and it would not have been accomplished if I hadn't spent most of yesterday playing cards with the man who keeps it and making love to the young women!"

"That's quite right," said another lad. "When he takes his cap off you'll see how one of them rewarded him. But come along, Witham.

It--is--ready."

The greetings might, of course, have been expressed differently, but Witham also was not addicted to displaying all he felt, and the little ring in the lads' voices was enough for him. As they moved towards the hotel he saw that Dane was looking at him.

"Well?" said the latter, "you see, they want you."

That was probably the most hilarious breakfast that had ever been held in the wooden hotel; and before it was over, three of his companions had said to Witham, "Of course, you'll drive in with me!"

"Boys," he said, as they put their furs on, and his voice shook a trifle, "I can't ride in with everybody who has asked me unless you dismember me."

Finally, Alfreton, who was a trifle too quick for the others, got him into his sleigh, and they swept out behind a splendid team into the frozen stillness of the prairie. The white leagues rolled behind them, the cold grew intense; but while Witham was for the most part silent and apparently preoccupied, Alfreton talked almost incessantly, and only once looked grave. That happened when Witham asked about Colonel Barrington.

The lad shook his head. "I scarcely think he will ever take hold again," he said. "You will understand me better when you see him."

They stopped awhile at mid-day at an outlying farm, but Witham glanced inquiringly at Alfreton when one of the sleighs went on. The lad smiled at him.

"Yes," he said. "He is going on to tell them we have got you."

"They would have found it out in a few more hours," said Witham.