Lost Farm Camp Part 27

Won't you extend your charity and spare me a few minutes more. Can't you 'phone to the hospital? I have something that will interest you, now that I know you have stock in the N. M. & Q."

"Well, Ross, as a physician I ought to say no, but as your friend, well, I'll listen, say ten minutes."

"Good!" exclaimed David, taking a piece of paper from the desk. "Now I'm going to swear you to secrecy."

"I'm sworn," said the Doctor. "Go ahead."

David made a hasty sketch of the Lost Farm tract and the first survey.

"Now here we are," he said. "First survey crosses the river here; second survey about five miles below. Up here," he continued, "is Timberland Mountain, and here is the creek crossing the line of the first survey."

He paused and glanced at the Doctor's face. "In that creekbed is a fortune in asbestos-miles of it. Now the original intention of the directors was to run the road round the base of the mountain and cross the creek here. You can see that the second survey would take the road through five miles below the mountain."

"Yes, I see," said the Doctor; "but why do they want to go away off there?"

"Well, Bas...o...b..knows that the mineral is on Lost Farm. He has tried to purchase the land, but it is not for sale. It belongs to my partner, a Mr. Avery."

"Right of eminent domain?" queried the Doctor.

"Of course, so far as the right-of-way is concerned, but that doesn't touch the asbestos. What I'm getting at is this. Bas...o...b..apparently controls the directors. He's an engineer and they leave the fine points to him. Now he can easily swing the road to the second survey and-_bang!_ There goes the market for the asbestos. It won't pay to cart it five miles to the road."

"Does the second survey cover accessible territory for road building?"

asked the Doctor.

"No," replied David. "It's one of the worst pieces of swamp-land I ever saw."

"I see. So Bas...o...b..is using that to bluff you into selling?"

"That's about it."

"And the stockholders pay for his little idiosyncrasies, hey?"

"They will if he has his way."

The Doctor studied the sketch closely for a moment. "You've got this thing correct?" he asked finally.

"Not to a scale-but approximately correct," replied David.

"Hu-m-m!" The Doctor leaned back and looked at his companion, but there was no gleam of recognition in his expression. Presently he arose. "Will you let me have this sketch for a few days?"

"Certainly," replied David.

"Of course, I'm not a practical railroad man," said the Doctor, as he folded the paper and slipped it in his memorandum book, "but I don't see why the N. M. & Q. shouldn't have the asbestos tonnage. Do you?"

"No, I don't;-that is, if the directors are made alive to the fact that the stockholders know what they want and intend to have it."

"That's it. I won't promise anything, but you might drop a line to your partner and tell him to sit tight till he hears from you. Now you've had enough business for a month. Take a drive this evening and keep away from downtown till you hear from me. I'm going to produce this paper at the next meeting and get my name in print as a practical railroad man, which isn't so, but I'm not averse to a little advertising."

"I didn't know men of your-your profession did that kind of advertising," said David.

"My son, if you knew some of the stunts physicians do to keep themselves before the public, you'd-well, you might smile and then again, you might not."

Dr. Leighton drew on his gloves, settled his coat-collar with a shrug of his corpulent shoulders, and departed.

CHAPTER XIX-PIRACY

Not until nearing the middle of September did the intense heat wavering over the hoof-marked asphalt of the streets give way to the refres.h.i.+ng coolness of the light breezes that preceded the infrequent and gentle rains of early autumn.

David chafed at his monotonous routine of morning walks, afternoon drives, and "Evening Transcripts." The tang of the air, coming briskly round a corner, set his pulses throbbing with a desire "to pack his kit and trek," anywhere, so long as it would take him away from the tunnel-like walls of brick and brownstone and the geometrical accuracy of gra.s.s-plot, curb, and sidewalk. At times this desire to flee from the questionable "advantages" of civilization to the unquestionable sanity and freedom of the forest became unendurable, especially when October's crisp, invigorating mornings wakened him to gaze across the cl.u.s.tered chimney-pots to where the river rippled, bronze-cold, in the early sun.

"If it were not for Aunt Elizabeth, I'd go to-morrow," he said, as he returned from his shower one morning, ruddy from head to foot with vigorous toweling. "By Jove, I know what I'll do. I'll get hold of Wallie and have it out with him. That ought to be exciting enough to satisfy me for a day or two at least. I'm getting altogether too healthy to stand this sort of life. I need room to move round in-town's too small for me."

As he dressed, he noticed his rifle standing in the corner. Its soiled and worn canvas case looked grim and businesslike, contrasted with its quiet-colored and orderly surroundings. As he knotted his tie carefully, he caught the reflection of the rifle in the gla.s.s. Without waiting to put on vest or coat, he strode to the corner, stripped the case from the gun, and eyed it enthusiastically. A faint smell of wood-smoke came to him. He balanced the rifle in his hands and then raised it to his shoulder abruptly, sighting at a particularly ghoulish looking chimney-pot. He c.o.c.ked the Winchester, centred the bead on the unoffending chimney-pot, and without dreaming that the rifle was loaded, pulled the trigger.

The prisoned roar of the explosion of the heavy .45 stunned him for a moment. "Great Caesar! And that thing's been loaded ever since-ever since-well, I guess I was a bit off to leave a cartridge in that gun.

Heavens! I hope Aunt Bess isn't frightened."

But his aunt's white face in the doorway was a silent accusation that brought him to her as shamefaced as a reprimanded schoolboy.

"Davy! Davy! what did you do?"

"I'm awfully sorry. It was stupid and foolish of me, but I couldn't resist the temptation to sight at one of those chimney-pots-and I had no idea the rifle was loaded."

"I didn't know what had happened, David."

Her tone implied more than she was aware of, as his countenance showed.

He flushed and looked away from her, as the full meaning of her remark came to him.

"Don't worry, Aunt Bess. It's nothing like that; simply a superabundance of October air. Please go to your room. It's drafty here."

He finished dressing, glancing at intervals, toward the rifle, which he finally slid into the case and stood in the corner. Before going downstairs he went to the window and looked out, withdrawing his head with a boyish grin as he saw the shattered top of the chimney-pot.

"Hit it anyway," he said, as he came down to the dining-room.

After breakfast he went out, walking briskly toward town, unconscious, as he enjoyed the keen edge of the morning, that a troubled face had watched him from the drawing-room window until the intervening houses hid him from view.

When he arrived at Bas...o...b..s office he found that both Wallie and his father were out. Leaving a note he betook himself to a bookstore and made several purchases, which he addressed and carried to an express office.

Then he idled along the street, gazing casually at the store windows.

Finally he stopped at a display of sportsmen's supplies and entered the shop. After an overhauling of the many-colored coats submitted to his exacting inspection, he selected a heavy fine-textured garment, fawn-colored, and with an edging of tiny blue squares. He again entered the express office, where an obliging but mystified clerk waited upon him, asking his companion at the desk if "Swickey" was a Polish name or what? David overheard the question and said quite seriously, "No, young man, it's Andalusian for gypsy."

On his way to Bernard, White & Bas...o...b..s offices, he paused frequently, engrossed with the plan he was formulating, which was to make Wallie a point-blank offer to join him, eliminate the elder Bas...o...b..from the Northern Improvement Company, and work the proposed plant together with the capital already subscribed. "It looks like piracy, but from what Dr.

Leighton tells me, old man Bas...o...b..is on his last legs financially, and that means-well, Bessie is used to luxury; besides, Wallie's not half bad if he would only brace up and dig in. Perhaps the old man will be glad to sit back and let Wallie go ahead when he finds that he can't swing it himself. I'll do it for Bess, anyway, and probably get sat upon for offering."

"Well, here goes," he said, as he entered the corridor of the office building. "It smells like bribery and looks like corruption, but I'll risk it."

As he waited for the descending elevator, Wallie Bas...o...b..entered the street door.