The Depot Master Part 23

"Don't have to see him. He's made me an offer and I'll write and accept it."

"But you've got to have a selectmen's permit to move--"

"Got it. I went up and saw the chairman an hour ago. He's a friend of mine. I nominated him town-meetin' day."

"But," stammered Phinney, very much upset by the suddenness of it all, "you ain't got my price nor--"

"Drat your price! Give it when I ask it. See here, Sim, are you goin' to have my house in the middle of the road by day after to-morrer? Or was that just talk?"

"'Twa'n't talk. I can have it there, but--"

"All right," said Captain Sol coolly, "then have it."

Hands in pockets, he strolled away. Simeon sat down on a rock by the roadside and whistled.

However, whistling was a luxurious and time-wasting method of expressing amazement, and Mr. Phinney could not afford luxuries just then. For the rest of that day he was a busy man. As Bailey St.i.tt expressed it, he "flew round like a sand flea in a mitten," hiring laborers, engaging masons, and getting his materials ready. That very afternoon the masons began tearing down the chimneys of the little Berry house. Before the close of the following day it was on the rollers. By two of the day after that it was in the middle of the Sh.o.r.e Road, just when its mover had declared it should be. They were moving it, furniture and all, and Captain Sol was, as he said, going to "stay right aboard all the voyage." No cooking could be done, of course, but the Captain arranged to eat at Mrs. Higgins's hospitable table during the transit. His sudden freak was furnis.h.i.+ng material for gossip throughout the village, but he did not care. Gossip concerning his actions was the last thing in the world to trouble Captain Sol Berry.

The Williams's "Colonial" was moving toward the corner at a rapid rate, and the foreman of the Boston moving firm walked over to see Mr.

Phinney.

"Say," he observed to Simeon, who, the perspiration streaming down his face, was resting for a moment before recommencing his labor of arranging rollers; "say," observed the foreman, "we'll be ready to turn into the Boulevard by tomorrer night and you're blockin' the way."

"That's all right," said Simeon, "we'll be past the Boulevard corner by that time."

He thought he was speaking the truth, but next morning, before work began, Captain Berry appeared. He had had breakfast and strolled around to the scene of operations.

"Well," asked Phinney, "how'd it seem to sleep on wheels?"

"Tiptop," replied the depot master. "Like it fust rate. S'pose my next berth will be somewheres up there, won't it?"

He was pointing around the corner instead of straight ahead. Simeon gaped, his mouth open.

"Up THERE?" he cried. "Why, of course not. That's the Boulevard. We're goin' along the Sh.o.r.e Road."

"That so? I guess not. We're goin' by the Boulevard. Can go that way, can't we?"

"Can?" repeated Simeon aghast. "Course we CAN! But it's like boxin' the whole compa.s.s backward to get ha'f a p'int east of no'th. It's way round Robin Hood's barn. It'll take twice as long and cost--"

"That's good," interrupted the Captain. "I like to travel, and I'm willin' to pay for it. Think of the view I'll get on the way."

"But your permit from the selectmen--" began Phinney. Berry held up his hand.

"My permit never said nothin' about the course to take," he answered, his eye twinkling just a little. "There, Sim, you're wastin' time. I move by the Hill Boulevard."

And into the Boulevard swung the Berry house. The Colt and Adams foreman was an angry man when he saw the beams laid in that direction. He rushed over and asked profane and pointed questions.

"Thought you said you was goin' straight ahead?" he demanded.

"Thought I was," replied Simeon, "but, you see, I'm only navigator of this craft, not owner."

"Where is the blankety blank?" asked the foreman.

"If you're referrin' to Cap'n Berry, I cal'late you'll find him at the depot," answered Phinney. To the depot went the foreman. Receiving little satisfaction there, he hurried to the home of his employer, Mr.

Williams. The magnate, red-faced and angry, returned with him to the station. Captain Sol received them blandly. Issy, who heard the interview which followed, declared that the depot master was so cool that "an iceberg was a bonfire 'longside of him." Issy's description of this interview, given to a dozen townspeople within the next three hours, was as follows:

"Mr. Williams," said the wide-eyed Issy, "he comes postin' into the waitin' room, his foreman with him. Williams marches over to Cap'n Sol and he says, 'Berry,' he says, 'are you responsible for the way that house of yours is moved?'

"Cap'n Sol bowed and smiled. 'Yes,' says he, sweet as a fresh scallop.

"'You're movin' it to Main Street, aren't you? I so understood.'

"'You understood correct. That's where she's bound.'

"'Then what do you mean by turning out of your road and into mine?'

"'Oh, I don't own any road. Have you bought the Boulevard? The selectmen ought to have told us that. I s'posed it was town thoroughfare.'

"Mr. Williams colored up a little. 'I didn't mean my road in that sense,' he says. 'But the direct way to Main Street is along the sh.o.r.e, and everybody knows it. Now why do you turn from that into the Boulevard?'

"Cap'n Sol took a cigar from his pocket. 'Have one?' says he, pa.s.sin' it toward Mr. Williams. 'No? Too soon after breakfast, I s'pose. Why do I turn off?' he goes on. 'Well, I'll tell you. I'm goin' to stay right aboard my shack while it's movin', and it's so much pleasanter a ride up the hill that I thought I'd go that way. I always envied them who could afford a house on the Boulevard, and now I've got the chance to have one there--for a spell. I'm sartin I shall enjoy it.'

"The foreman growled, disgusted. Mr. Williams got redder yet.

"'Don't you understand?' he snorts. 'You're blockin' the way of the house I'M movin'. I have capable men with adequate apparatus to move it, and they would be able to go twice as fast as your one-horse country outfit. You're blockin' the road. Now they must follow you. It's an outrage!'

"Cap'n Sol smiled once more. 'Too bad,' says he. 'It's a pity such a nice street ain't wider. If it was my street in my town--I b'lieve that's what you call East Harniss, ain't it?--seems to me I'd widen it.'

"The boss of 'my town' ground his heel into the sand. 'Berry,' he snaps, 'are you goin' to move that house over the Boulevard ahead of mine?'

"The Cap'n looked him square in the eye. 'Williams,' says he, 'I am.'

"The millionaire turned short and started to go.

"'You'll pay for it,' he snarls, his temper gettin' free at last.

"'I cal'late to,' purrs the Cap'n. 'I gen'rally do pay for what I want, and a fair price, at that. I never bought in cheap mortgages and held 'em for clubs over poor folks, never in my life. Good mornin'.'

"And right to Mr. Williams's own face, too," concluded Issy. "WHAT do you think of that?"

Here was defiance of authority and dignity, a sensation which should have racked East Harniss from end to end. But most of the men in the village, the tradespeople particularly, had another matter on their minds, namely, Major Cuthbertson Scott Hardee, of "Silverleaf Hall." The Major and his debts were causing serious worriment.

The creditors of the Major met, according to agreement, on the Monday evening following their previous gathering at the club. Obed Gott, one of the first to arrive, greeted his fellow members with an air of gloomy triumph and a sort of condescending pity.

Higgins, the "general store" keeper, acting as self-appointed chairman, asked if anyone had anything to report. For himself, he had seen the Major and asked point-blank for payment of his bill. The Major had been very polite and was apparently much concerned that his fellow townsmen should have been inconvenienced by any neglect of his. He would write to his attorneys at once, so he said.

"He said a whole lot more, too," added Higgins. "Said he had never been better served than by the folks in this town, and that I kept a fine store, and so on and so forth. But I haven't got any money yet. Anybody else had any better luck?"

No one had, although several had had similar interviews with the master of "Silverleaf Hall."