O'Neil's return to Omar was triumphal. All his lieutenants gathered to meet him at the pier and the sincerity of their welcome stirred him deeply. His arrangements with Illis had taken time; he had been delayed at Seattle by bridge details and the placing of steel contracts. He had worked swiftly, and with such absorption that he had paid little heed to the rumors of Gordon's latest activities. Of the new venture which his own success had inspired he knew only the bare outline. He had learned enough, however, to arouse his curiosity, and as soon as the first confusion of his arrival at the front was over he asked for news.
"Haven't you read the papers?" inquired "Happy Tom." He had attached himself to O'Neil at the moment of his stepping ashore, and now followed him to headquarters, with an air of melancholy satisfaction in mere physical nearness to his chief.
"Barely!" O'Neil confessed. "I've been working twenty hours a day getting that steel under motion."
Dr. Gray said with conviction: "Gordon is a remarkable man. It's a pity he's crooked."
"I think it's dam' lucky," declared Tom. "He's smarter than us, and if he wasn't handicapped by a total lack of decency he'd beat us."
"After the storm," explained Gray, "he moved back to Hope, and we thought he'd made his last bow, but in some way he got the idea that the Trust was back of us."
"So I judged from the little I read."
"Well, we didn't undeceive him, of course. His first move was an attack through the press in the shape of a broadside against the Heidlemanns. It fairly took our breaths. It appeared in the Cortez Courier and all over the States, we hear—a letter of defiance to Herman Heidlemann. It declared that the Trust was up to its old tricks here in Alaska had gobbled the copper; had the coal tied up under secret agreements, and was trying to get possession of all the coast-range passes and defiles—the old story. But the man can write. That article caused a stir."
"I saw it."
"Naturally, the Cortez people ate it up. They're sore at the Trust for leaving their town, and at us for building Omar. Then Gordon called a mass-meeting, and some of us went up to watch the fireworks. I've never seen anything quite like that meeting; every man, woman, and child in the city was there, and they hissed us when we came in. Gordon knew what he was about, and he was in fine voice. He told them Cortez was the logical point of entry to the interior of Alaska and ought to have all the traffic. He fired their animosity toward the Trust, and accused us of basely selling out to it. Then he broached a project to build, by local subscription, a narrow-gauge electric line from Cortez, utilizing the waterfalls for power. The idea caught on, and went like wild-fire: the people cheered themselves hoarse, and pledged him over a hundred thousand dollars that night. Since then they have subscribed as much more, and the town is crazy. Work has actually begun, and they hope to reach the first summit by Christmas."
Slater broke in: "He's a spell-binder, all right. He made me hate the Heidlemanns and detest myself for five minutes. I wasn't even sure I liked YOU, Murray."
"It's a wild scheme, of course," continued the doctor, "but he's putting it over. The town council has granted him a ninety-nine-year lease covering every street; the road-bed is started, and things are booming. Lots have been staked all over the flats, property values are somersaulting, everybody is out of his head, and Gordon is a god. All he does is organize new companies. He has bought a sawmill, a wharf, a machine shop, acres of real estate. He has started a bank and a new hotel; he has consolidated the barber shops; and he talks about roofing in the streets with glass and making the town a series of arcades."
Slater half smiled—evidence of a convulsive mirth within.
"They've picked out a site for a university!" he said, bitterly. "Cortez is going to be a seat of learning and culture. They're planning a park and a place for an Alaskan World's Fair and a museum and a library. I've always wondered who starts public libraries—it's 'nuts.' But I didn't s'pose more than one or two people got foolish that way."
O'Neil drew from his pocket a newspaper five days old, which he unfolded and opened at a full-page advertisement, headed:
CORTEZ HOME RAILWAY
"This is running in all the coast papers," he said, and read:
"OUR PLATFORM:
No promotion shares. No construction profits.
No bonds. No incompetence.
No high-salaried officials. No monopoly.
No passes or rebates. No graft.
"OF ALASKA, BY ALASKA, FOR ALASKA."
There was much more of a similar kind, written to appeal to the quick-profit-loving public, and it was followed by a violent attack upon the Trust and an appeal to the people of Seattle for assistance, at one dollar per share.
"Listen to this," O'Neil went on:
"Among the original subscribers are the following:
"Hotels and saloons of Cortez ..... $17,000
City Council .......................15,000
Prospectors......................... 7,000
Ladies' Guild of Cortez .............. 740
School-children of Cortez............. 420"
Tom grew red in the face and gave his characteristic snort. "I don't mind his stringing the City Council and the saloons, and even the Ladies' Guild," he growled, "but when he steals the licorice and slate-pencils from the kids it's time he was stopped."
Murray agreed. "I think we are about done with Gordon. He has led his ace."
"I'm not sure. This is a kind of popular uprising, like a camp-meeting. If I went to Cortez now, some prattling school-girl would wallop me with her dinner-bucket. We can't shake Gordon loose: he's a regular splavvus."
"What is a splavvus, Tom?" inquired Dr. Gray.
"It's a real peculiar animal, being a cross between a bulldog and a skunk. We have lots of 'em in Maine!"
O'Neil soon found that the accounts he had received of Gordon's last attempt to recoup his fortunes were in no way exaggerated. Cortez, long the plaything of the railroad-builders, had been ripe for his touch: it rose in its wounded civic pride and greeted his appeal with frantic delight. It was quite true that the school-children had taken stock in the enterprise: their parents turned their own pockets inside out, and subscriptions came in a deluge. The price of real estate doubled, quadrupled, and Gordon bought just enough to establish the price firmly. The money he paid was deposited again in his new bank, and he proceeded to use it over and over in maintaining exorbitant prices and in advancing his grandiose schemes. His business took him often to Seattle, where by his whirlwind methods he duplicated his success in a measure: his sensational attack upon the money powers got a wide hearing, and he finally secured an indorsement of his scheme by the Businessmen's Association. This done, he opened splendid offices and began a wide-spread stock-flotation campaign. Soon the Cortez Home Railway became known as a mighty, patriotic effort of Alaskans to throw off the shackles of oppression.
Gordon perfectly understood that something more than vague accusations were necessary to bring the public to his support in sufficient numbers to sweep him on to victory, and with this in mind he laid crafty plans to seize the Heidlemann grade. The Trust had ceased active work on its old right-of-way and moved to Kyak, to be sure, but it had not abandoned its original route, and in fact had maintained a small crew at the first defile outside of Cortez, known as Beaver Canon. Gordon reasoned shrewdly that a struggle between the agents of the Trust and the patriotic citizens of the town would afford him precisely the advertising he needed and give point to his charge of unfair play against the Heidlemanns.
It was not difficult to incite his victims to this act of robbery. On the contrary, once he had made the suggestion, he had hard work to restrain them, until he had completed his preparations. These preparations were simple; they consisted in writing and mailing to every newspaper of consequence a highly colored account of the railroad struggle. These mimeographed stories were posted from Seattle in time for them to reach their destinations on the date set for the seizure of the grade.
It was an ingenious publicity move, worthy of a theatrical press-agent, and it succeeded beyond the promoter's fondest expectations—too well, in fact, for it drove the Trust in desperation to an alliance with the S. R. & N.
The day set for the demonstration came; the citizens of Cortez boldly marched into Beaver Canon to take possession of the old Heidlemann workings, but it appeared that they had reckoned prematurely. A handful of grim-faced Trust employees warned them back: there was a rush, some rough work on the part of the aggressors, and then the guards brought their weapons into play. The result afforded Gordon far more sensational material than he had hoped for: one citizen was killed and five others were badly wounded. Cortez, dazed and horror-stricken, arose in her wrath and descended upon the "assassins"; lynchings were planned, and mobs threatened the local jail, until soldiers were hurried thither and martial law was declared.
Of course, the wires were burdened with the accounts; the reading public of the States awoke to the fact that a bitter strife was waging in the north between honest miners and the soulless Heidlemann syndicate. Gordon's previously written and carefully colored stories of the clash were printed far and wide. Editorials breathed indignation at such lawlessness and pointed to the Cortez Home Railway as a commendable effort to destroy the Heidlemann throttle-hold upon the northland. Stock subscriptions came in a deluge which fairly engulfed Gordon's Seattle office force.
During this brief white-hot campaign the promoter had been actuated as much by his senseless hatred of O'Neil as by lust of glory and gain, and it was with no little satisfaction that he returned to Alaska conscious of having dealt a telling blow to his enemy. He sent Natalie to Omar on another visit in order that he might hear at first hand how O'Neil took the matter. But his complacency received a shock when the girl returned. He had no need to question her.
"Uncle Curtis," she began, excitedly, "you ought to stop these terrible newspaper stories about Mr. O'Neil and the Trust."
"Stop them? My dear, what do you mean?"
"He didn't sell out to the Trust. He has nothing to do with it."
"What?" Gordon's incredulity was a challenge.
"He sold to an Englishman named Illis. They seem to be amused by your mistake over there at Omar, but I think some of the things printed are positively criminal. I knew you'd want the truth—"
"The truth, yes! But this can't be true," stammered Gordon.
"It is. Mr. O'Neil did try to interest the Heidlemanns, but they wouldn't have anything to do with him, and the S. R. & N. was going to smash when Mr. Illis came along, barely in time. It was too exiting and dramatic for anything the way Mr. O'Neil found him when he was in hiding—"
"Hiding?"
"Yes. There was something about blackmail, or a secret arrangement between Mr. Illis and the Yukon River lines—I couldn't understand just what it was—but, anyhow, Murray took advantage of it and saved the North Pass and the S. R. & N. at the same time. It was really a perfectly wonderful stroke of genius. I determined at once that you should stop these lies and correct the general idea that he is in the pay of the Trust. Why, he went to Cortez last week and they threatened his life!"
Mrs. Gordon, who had listened, said, quietly: "Don't blame Curtis for that. That bloody affray at Beaver Canyon has made Cortez bitter against every one connected with the Heidlemanns."
"What about this blackmail?" said her husband, upon whose ear the word had made a welcome impression. "I don't understand what you mean by O'Neil's 'saving' the North Pass and his own road at the same time—nor Illis's being in hiding."
"Neither do I." Natalie confessed, "but I know you have made a mistake that ought to be set right."
"Why doesn't he come out with the truth?"
"The whole thing is secret."
"Why?"
Natalie shrugged hopelessly, and Gordon lost himself in frowning thought.
"This is amazing," he said, brusquely, after a moment. "It's vital. It affects all my plans. I must know everything at once."
"I'm sorry I paid so little attention."
"Never mind; try it again and be diplomatic. If O'Neil won't tell you, question Appleton—you can wind him around your fingers easily enough."
The girl eyed him with a quick change of expression.
"Isn't it enough to know that the Trust has nothing to do with the S. R. & N.?"
"No!" he declared, impatiently. "I must know the whole inside of this secret understanding—this blackmail, or whatever it is."
"Then—I'm sorry."
"Come! Don't be silly. You can do me a great service."
"You said you no longer disliked Mr. O'Neil and that he couldn't harm you."
"Well, well! Must I explain the whys and wherefores of every move I make?"
"It would be spying if I went back. The matter is confidential—I know that."
"Will you do as I ask?" he demanded.
Natalie answered him firmly: "No! I told you what I did tell you only so that you might correct—"
"You rebel, eh?" Gordon spoke out furiously.
It was their first clash since the marriage. Mrs. Gordon looked on, torn between loyalty to her husband and a desire to protect her daughter. She was searching her mind painfully for the compromise, the half-truth that was her remedy for every moral distress. At length she said, placatingly:
"I'm sure Natalie will help you in any way she can, Curtis. She isn't rebellious, she merely doesn't understand."
"She doesn't need to understand. It is enough that I direct her—" As Natalie turned and walked silently to the window he stifled an oath. "Have I no authority?" he stormed. "Do you mean to obey?"
"Wait!" Gloria laid a restraining hand on his arm. "Perhaps I can learn what you want to know. Mr. O'Neil was very kind—"
Her daughter whirled, with white face and flashing eyes.
"Mother!" she gasped.
"Our loyalty begins at home," said Gloria, feebly.
"Oh-h! I can't conceive of your—of such a thing. If you have no decency, I have. I'm sorry I spoke, but—if you DARE to do such a thing I shall warn Mr. O'Neil that you are a spy." She turned a glance of loathing on Gordon. "I see," she said, quietly. "You used me as a tool. You lied about your feeling toward him. You meant harm to him all the time." She faced the window again.
"Lied!" he shouted. "Be careful—that's pretty strong language. Don't try me too far, or you may find yourself adrift once more. I have been too patient. But I have other ways of finding out what I wish to know, and I shall verify what you have told me." He strode angrily from the room, leaving Natalie staring out upon the bleak fall scene, her shoulders very straight, her breast heaving. Gloria did not venture to address her.
Fortunately for the peace of all concerned, Gordon left for Seattle on the next steamer. Neither of the women believed that Natalie's fragmentary revelation was the cause of his departure; but, once in touch with outside affairs, he lost no time in running down the clues he had gathered, and it was not long before he had learned enough to piece the truth together. Then he once more brought his mimeograph into use.
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