THE RAPIDS

BY

ALAN SULLIVAN

AUTHOR OF "THE INNER DOOR, " ETC. 

THE COPP CLARK CO. , LIMITED

TORONTO

Copyright, Canada, 1922, by

THE COPP CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED

TORONTO, ONTARIO

_The Copp Clark Press_

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I. CLARK DISCOVERS ARCADIA II. ARCADIA WAKES UP III. PHILADELPHIA HEARS ABOUT ARCADIA IV. PRELIMINARIES IN ST. MARYS V. THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA VI. CONCERNING IRON, WOOD AND A GIRL VII. THE BISHOP'S GARDEN PARTY--AND AFTERWARDS VIII. IRON IX. CONCERNING THE APPREHENSION OF CLARK'S DIRECTORS X. CUPIDITY VS. LOYALTY XI. CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION, ALSO HIS DIRECTORS XII. LOVE AND DOUBT XIII. THE VOICE OF THE RAPIDS XIV. AN ANCIENT ARISTOCRAT VISITS THE WORKS XV. CLARK CONVERTS TORONTO XVI. GOLD, ALSO CONCERNING A GIRL XVII. THE GIRL IN THE CANOE XVIII. MATTERS FINANCIAL XIX. THE WEB OF LACHESIS XX. THE CAR OF PROGRESS HALTS XXI. THE CRASH XXII. THE MASTER MIND AT WORK XXIII. CONCERNING THE RIOT XXIV. DESTINY XXV. THE UNCONQUERABLE SPIRIT EPILOGUE

THE RAPIDS

I. --CLARK DISCOVERS ARCADIA

Amongst the few who knew Robert Fisher Clark at all well, for therewere not many of them, there was no question as to his beliefs. It wastoo obvious that his primary faith was in himself. Nor is it knownwhether, at any time, he gave any thought or study to the character ofthose with whom, in the course of his remarkably active life, he cameinto association. Always it appeared that there was laid upon him theresponsibility of doing things which did not occur to the ordinary man, and he went about them with such supreme confidence and unremittingenthusiasm that he infused into his followers much of his communicablezeal. It appears now that Clark weighed a man by appraising the degreeto which he contributed to the work in hand, and automatically setaside those whom he considered contributed nothing to his object. Hewas the most unattached personality it is possible to imagine. Whatever passion or reaction he may have experienced was always amatter for him alone, and something that he underwent in the remotenessof an astonishingly exclusive brain. That he experienced them iswithout doubt, but they were revealed in the intensity of action andthe quick resiliency of renewed effort. 

It was not known, either, whether he believed in chance, or in thosetiny eventualities which so often impress a definite color onsubsequent years. The trend of his mind was to move forward ratherthan back, and it is questionable if he gave much thought to secondcauses. The fruit dangled before his eye even as he planted the vine, and if this induced in him a certain ruthlessness it could only bebecause those who are caught up in high endeavor to reach the mountaintops must perforce trample many a lowland flower beneath their eagerfeet. 

And yet it was chance that brought Clark to St. Marys, chance that heshould be in a certain train at a given time, and above all it waschance that he should overhear a certain conversation, but it was notby any means chance that he should interpret the latter as he did. 

The train was lurching over an uneven track that wound through thewoods of western Ontario when, staring thoughtfully out of the windowat the tangled bush, he caught from across the aisle the drift of talkthat was going on between two strangers. 

"And so, " said one of them, "the thing went smash for lack of just twothings. "

"And what were they?"

"Some more money and a good deal more experience. "

Clark raised his head ever so slightly. Money and experience--the lackof them had, to his personal knowledge, worked disaster in a widercircle than that of St. Marys. He had heard of the place before, butthat was years ago. Presently one of the strangers continued. 

"It was after the railway came that the people in St. Marys seemed towake up. They got in touch with the outside world and began to talkabout water power. You see, they had been staring at the rapids foryears, but what was the value of power if there was no use to which toput it? Then a contractor dropped in who had horses and tools but nojob. "

"So that's what started it?"

"Exactly. The idea was small enough to begin with and the town justwanted power for light and water works, so they gave the contractor thejob, borrowed a hundred and thirty thousand dollars, and got thenecessary land from the Ottawa government. I've an idea that if thoserights ever get into experienced hands you'll hear a good deal more ofSt. Marys than you ever heard before. "

"And then?"

"The town went broke on the job. Mind you, they had a corkingagreement with the government and a block of land alongside the rapidsbig enough for a young city. The mistake was they hadn't secured anyfactory. Also they needed about five times as much money. "

The other man smiled reflectively. "The old story over again. "

"That's about it. Credit ran out and the work stopped and things beganto rust, and now St. Marys has gone to sleep again and does a littlefarming and trade with the Indians. "

"In fact, it's a sort of rural tragedy?"

"Yes. You'll see the half-finished ditch just before we cross thebridge. I'm afraid St. Marys has that kind of a sick feeling thatgenerally knocks the stuffing out of a municipality. Come on, let'shave some lunch. "

The two disappeared toward the dining car, but Clark did not stir. Hiseyes, which were gray and keen, still fixed themselves contemplativelyon the ragged wilderness. His lips were pressed tight, his jawslightly thrust out. Water rights--industries--unlimited power--landfor an industrial city; all this and much more seemed to hurl itselfthrough his brain. Presently he took a railway folder out of his bagand examined one of those maps which invariably indicate that therailway which has published the folder owns the only direct routebetween important points and that all other lines meander aimlessly incomparison. He noted, although he already knew it, that St. Marys, Ontario, was just across the river from St. Marys, Michigan; that LakeSuperior flung itself down the rapids that roared between, and that tothe south the country was fairly well settled--but to the north thewilderness stretched almost unbroken to the sub-arctics. 

A quarter of an hour passed when a long whistle announced the approachto the town. At the sound a new light came into the gray eyes, thetraveler closed his bag with a snap and began to put on his coat. Justat that moment the porter hurried up. 

"This isn't Minneapolis, sir. "

Clark drew a long breath. "I know it--have changed my mind. I'm forSt. Mary's now. "

He stepped off almost before the train came to a halt and lookedcuriously about. 

"Good day, " he said to the nearest man. "Will you please tell me whois mayor and where I will find him?"

Now it happened that the individual to whom this query was addressedwas none other than Bowers, the town solicitor, for Bowers had a habitof deserting his office about train time and surveying new arrivalsfrom a corner of the platform with the lurking hope of unearthingsomething which might relieve the monotony of days which were not onlywearisome but unprofitable. When the stranger spoke to him, the lawyernoticed that he was of medium height with a strong barrel-like body andrather sloping shoulders. His face was smooth, his jaw somewhat heavy, his eyes exceedingly keen, and he carried with him an indefinable airof authority. He observed, also, that the voice had in it somethingpeculiarly clear and incisive. With a little thrill and a suddenflicker of the flame of hope, he pointed down the street that led tothe river. 

"Filmer is the mayor and his store is at the second corner down. Hisoffice is just behind. "

The stranger nodded and strode briskly off. Presently Bowers heardanother voice. 

"Who's that, do you suppose, commercial?"

The lawyer wrinkled his brows. "In a way, yes, but in another way, no. That fellow isn't selling anything, he's a buyer. "

As the stranger approached Filmer's store, he noted that it was thelargest building in sight, as well it might be. It was the localemporium, and so successfully had Filmer managed his business that theHudson Bay Company saw nothing inviting in competition. From a plow toa needle, from an ax to a kettle, from ammunition to sugar, Filmer hadall things, and what he had not he secured with surprising promptness. He had been mayor so long that his first term was now almost forgotten. By ability, courage, and fairness he was easily the leader in thecommunity. Broad and strong, with a ruddy, good natured face, a finetenor voice, a keen sense of humor and repartee, he was universallypopular. No one had known Filmer to complain or repine, though theremust have been moments when he longed for touch with those of his owncaliber. His was the case of a big man who though bigger than hissurroundings accepted them cheerfully. Thus, when Filmer looked up andsaw the stranger standing at his office door he was conscious of acurious feeling of anticipation. 

It was noted in the store that when the murmur of voices, a mingling ofthe stranger's penetrating tones and Filmer's fuller, richer note, hadlasted for a moment, the mayor got up and banged the door shut, afterwhich there drifted out only a suggestion of conversation. It was notuntil an hour later that the door opened and the two came slowly out, the stranger as brisk as ever. Filmer was pulling thoughtfully at hisglossy black whiskers. Both paused on the wide front step. 

"Then at eight this evening, Mr. Clark?" said Filmer. 

"At eight, " answered the stranger, staring keenly at the river. 

"Won't you come and stay with me while you are here, it's just ascomfortable as the hotel?" Filmer laughed softly. 

Clark shook his head. "Thanks, I'll have too much to do while I amhere. I'd better be alone. " And with that he set off walking smartlyup the long rambling street that led to the abandoned power canal. 

He progressed steadily with quick energetic steps, an alert andsuggestive figure amidst a scene of placidity. Up the uneven plankwalk he went, noting with a swift, sidelong glance the neat white houseof Dibbott, the Indian agent, a house that thrust its snowy, woodenwalls and luxuriant little garden close up to the street. On his left, still further west, was the home of Worden, the local magistrate. Thiswas a comfortable old place by the river, with a neglected fieldbetween it and the highway. Scattered here and there were stores, small buildings with high, wooden fronts, in the upper part of whichlived the proprietor and his family. On the right, street after streetstarted intermittently northward and died, houseless, at the railwayline, beyond which lay the unbroken bush. Still further up was theCounty jail, set four square in a large lot that had been shorn oftrees. It was of gray stone, massive and forbidding and iron barred. Clark stopped here for a moment and looked back at St. Marys with itsflaming maples and its scattered roofs from which rose plumes of light, gray smoke. His eyes half closed as though in some suddenintrospection, till, turning abruptly, he struck off over a road thatled across a mile of level land and came presently to the grave of theindustrial hopes of the town. It was an ugly scar in the face of thehelpless earth. 

Climbing the half completed embankment, he looked west, where throughthe clearing he could see the waters of Superior, then down stream tothe tail of the rapids that roared half a mile further on. It came tohim that nothing is so ugly as a well meant effort which has been leftunfinished. Where he stood there had, a year or so before, been littlerivulets which, escaping from the mighty flood of the rapids, lostthemselves in thickets of birch, hemlock, and cedar, and tinkled andleaped musically to the lower stretches of the river, whilst greattrout lay winnowing their currents of white water. But of this beautythere was now but a disordered gash, a hundred feet wide and a thousandfeet long, where rusting tools were scattered amongst mounds ofsplintered rock that lay in piles just as the blast of dynamite hadleft them. An untidy ruin, thought Clark, who had his own ideas of howthings should be put away. 

But he was, nevertheless, intensely interested, scanning it allshrewdly. He picked up fragments of stone, and, breaking them, examined their texture with the utmost care. Once or twice he walkedalong the top of the unfinished embankment throughout its entirelength, running a keen eye over the outlines of the excavation. Afterhalf an hour which concluded with one long concentrated stare, hepushed on deliberately through the soaked and tangled undergrowth tillhe came to the edge of the rapids themselves. Here he sat on a rockand looked long and earnestly, and so motionless was he that, after alittle while, he seemed to blend completely with earth, sky, and water. 

Immediately at his feet the rush of the river grasped at the roughshore as though to pluck it into the deeps, and here were eddies inwhich he could see the polished stones at the bottom. But further out, where the full weight of water began to be felt, were the first of thegreat, white horses that stretched to the other shore, a tossing, leaping, irresistible herd. Under the great bridge at his right, theriver took its first dip, a smooth and shining slope, streaked withtiny furrows of speed that wrinkled like waving metallic lines. Belowthat came the rapids in their first fury, with scattered cellars intowhich the flood swept to uprear itself in a second into pyramids offorce and foam. This seemed to fascinate Clark, and he peered withunwinking eyes till a sharp clatter just over his head caused him tolook up. Still he did not move his body, and a kingfisher on a branch, after regarding him for an instant with bright suspicious eyes, flunghimself into the air and hovered over a nearby eddy with an irregularflapping of quick, blue wings. Then, like a bullet, he dived into theflashing stream immediately at Clark's feet, and emerged with diamonddrops flying from his brilliant plumage and a small, silver fishcurving in his sharp, serrated beak, till, a second later, he dartedinto the covert with his prey. The bird had dared the rapids and foundthat which he sought. Clark's gray eyes had seen it all, and he smiledunderstandingly. 

The mayor, after the departure of his visitor, stood thoughtfully infront of the store, while his eye followed the stranger's figuredreamily up the street, and stood like one who has that whereof toponder. It is true that he had offered to accompany the new comer onhis pilgrimage, but equally true that Clark had politely but definitelydeclined, and it was something new for the mayor to have his suggestionthus put aside. In this case, however, he felt no resentment, andpresently strolled to the house of Worden, the magistrate, where hefound Worden, a large man with a small, kindly face, sitting in hisstudy which immediately faced the lawn. On the other side was theriver. Worden was apparently dividing his time between an unfinishedjudgment, for which there seemed no pressing demand, and a satisfyingcontemplation of the great stream which here was flecked with foam fromthe tumult above. 

The mayor sat for some time talking to him, surrounded by tiers ofhomemade shelves packed with law books, along whose tattered, leatherbacks Worden had a habit of running a tobacco-stained forefinger whilehe relighted a pipe which seemed in continual need of attention. Thetalk was long and earnest. The mayor's cigar went out with a smell ofvarnish where it lay on the edge of the judge's desk, but the two wereso interested that they did not notice it. 

Presently Filmer got up and Worden followed him to the porch expressingentire approval of all that had been discussed, and, as Filmer struckacross to the street, he returned to his study and gazed at thejudgment with apparent contempt. 

From Worden's, the mayor walked across to the jail and sought outManson. The latter was in his small office which seemed crowded withits single occupant's bulk, and adjoined the high forbidding walls ofthe jail itself. In St. Marys the chief constable was a man of place, and the jail an edifice that at times took on a singular interest, andif such a capacious establishment as it actually was might seemsuperfluous in Arcadia it must be remembered that in seasons of theyear the lumberjacks rolled in from the northern parts with six months'wages and a great thirst that demanded to be quenched, and a perfectlynatural and well meaning desire to offer combat at sight, which theygenerally did. Then, too, there were fugitives from justice whoslipped across the river by night in canoes, and miners from the silvercountry far to the west, and sometimes crime was also the product ofisolation. 

Manson, a tall man, broad, dark, and heavy voiced, seemed by naturedesigned to meet just such contingencies. Outwardly he was the epitomeof authority and inwardly he had a mind as stiff as his back. In hisown domain he was as Jove on Olympus, and when he moved abroad he was aperambulating reminder of the strong arm of the law. The jail wasconveniently arranged to hold the court room on an upper story, so thatManson could pop a prisoner up out of his cell to be tried andsentenced, and pop him back forthwith, and all the time the unfortunatewas, so to speak, one of the family and continually under the paternaleye. 

Had a listener been outside the door, he would have gleaned that themayor's visit was, in this case, not as amicable as that just made toWorden. He talked long and arduously, but every now and then Manson'sdeep bass boomed out heavy with argument, and his massive fist crashedponderously on the table. Presently Filmer drew a long breath and, stepping out on the trim gravel path, glanced up quizzically at thechief constable who looked as though enthroned on his own doorstep. 

"Mr. Mayor, " came the deep voice, "I don't take any stock in yourscheme. It's no good and there's a nigger in the fence somewhere. Iwas right before, and I am right this time. "

Filmer laughed softly. "Well, John, you're a hell of a good jailer, weall admit that, but I don't put you down as any permanent prophet. However, you will come, won't you?"

Manson nodded, a nod which said that though he would come it could notaffect his fixed opinion, whereupon the mayor laughed again, and setoff to finish his afternoon pilgrimage, and it is but fair to followhim a little further since he was a shrewd man, active and courageous, and though he did not know it, the result of the various visits he madethat day was to be imprinted indelibly on the history of St. Marys. 

Banishing Manson from a mind which was already busy with his next move, he retraced his steps as far as the cottage of Dibbott, the Indianagent, who at this hour of the day, might have been found movingmountainously in his long garden and pottering amongst his perennials, smoking an enormous pipe which he regretfully laid aside only in orderthat he might eat. 

Now, since the citizens of St. Marys were, without their knowledge, about to enter upon a period of great importance, glance at Dibbott, not the least of them, as his small, blue eyes caught the approachingfigure of the mayor. Six feet when he straightened, his shoulders werebent, but still broad and strong. His face was fiery, not only fromhis full blooded habit but also from long canoe voyages. He was aplacid man--placid yet at times suddenly choleric, and he regarded St. Marys and his own particular plot of land with an undying and tranquilaffection. Dibbott's position was, in a sense, enviable, for he stoodas administrator between the government and the local Indian tribes, inwhose eyes he was the representative of authority. 

Year after year he made official visits of visible grandeur to thesettlements of his wards, journeying in a great canoe in the middle ofwhich he rested enthroned, the brim of his hat pulled far down over ascarlet, sunburnt nose, a steady wisp of smoke from his big pipefloating back into the face of the laboring Indian behind him. It maybe that it was in the silence and mysterious appeal of these journeysthat Dibbott got the dignity which sat so naturally on his great, grayhead. 

The mayor liked the old man, and Dibbott knew it, so they talkedamicably while Dibbott, turning every now and then in surprise, pushedout his full red lips as though rising to a fly, and darted quick, little glances as Filmer unfolded his story beside a late phlox. Andwhen the mayor concluded, Dibbott did not move but began to rumble in adeep, throaty, ruminative voice something that sounded like one hundredand thirty thousand dollars at six per cent. 

On his way back to the office, Filmer saw Bowers' lean figure acrossthe street. He crooked a masterful finger. "Come here!"

The lawyer came over very deliberately and the two went on together. 

"There is a man up at the rapids who says he's ready at any time totake over the town canal debentures. "

Bowers looked up startled. "Will you please repeat that very slowly. "

"It's true, " chuckled Filmer, "and I am calling a town meeting forto-night. I haven't time to give you the details now, but be on handat eight o'clock. He's made a perfectly straight proposal and I don'tsee how we can lose on it. I never met a man just like him. "

"Did he come in on the train this afternoon?"

The mayor nodded. "Yes--said he was going on to Minneapolis, butdecided to stop over and make this offer. "

"Then I saw him at the station, " answered Bowers thoughtfully. "Ithought he was a buyer. Do you reckon we can rope him in?"

Filmer drew a long breath. "Looks to me as if he would rope himself inthe way he is going. He won't need any help from us. "

"What did you make of him personally?"

"I didn't get very far, " said Filmer deliberately, "except that hestruck me as the sort of man who gets things done. Look here, I'veseen Dibbott and Worden and Manson. Will you go and see the Bishop andask him to come to-night?"

"The Bishop went away this morning. "

"Damn!" said the mayor explosively. "I wanted to get his opinion aboutClark, that's his name, Robert Fisher Clark. Well, so long. "

He went on to his store where he was overtaken by Clark who had trampedback from the rapids. The visitor was muddy and no longer immaculateand there was a trace of fatigue on his face, but he looked as cheerfuland determined as ever. At that moment the village crier passed up thestreet swinging a raucous bell and announcing in stentorian tones thata meeting would be held in the town hall that night at eight o'clock toconsider matters of prime importance to the citizens at large. Thecrier tramped on, and Filmer glanced up inquiringly. 

"Won't you change your mind and come to the house with me? It is asafe bet you'll be more comfortable. "

Clark shook his head. "Thanks, but I've got to speak in two hours andthere's a good deal to think of. "

Meantime rumors of many things had begun to spread through St. Marys. The magistrate, as soon as the mayor left him, naturally told Mrs. Worden all about it and Bowers would not have dreamt of keeping such athing from his wife, so had stuck a card on his office door saying hewould be back in ten minutes and went home for the afternoon, afterwhich Mrs. Worden and Mrs. Bowers strolled over to see Mrs. Dibbott andwere in close conversation amongst the perennials, appealing now andthen to Dibbott in order that there might be no mistake about it. Downin Blood's barber shop, Jim Blood had, as might be expected, the mostdetailed information, for Clark had gone in there on his way to thehotel and, sitting down, remarked "shave please" and at the end, without another word, gave Jim fifty cents and walked out. And if youadd to all this the sound of the crier's bell mellowing softly up thelong street, it will be understood that the excitement was considerablyintensified. Even Filmer, as he ate supper, did not say much, but kepthis gaze on the lid of the teapot as though it were a Pandora's box inwhich bubbled marvelous things that might be vomited any moment. Butat heart Filmer was not anxious. It was not his habit. Of all men heknew best the folk of St. Marys, so he doubted not at all, and as amatter of fact St. Marys had for mayor a much bigger and wiser man thanit ever suspected. 

There may be communities now such as St. Marys was twenty-five yearsago, but one goes far to find them. Electricity has altered theirdistinctive character. The traffic of half a continent glidedmajestically past these wooded shores, with the deep blast of whistlesas the great vessels edged gingerly into the Government lock across theriver to be lifted to Superior, and another farewell blast as theypushed slowly out, and lastly a trail of vanishing black smoke as theydwindled westward to the inland sea. For seven months this processionpassed the town but never halted, till the people of St. Marys feltlike the farmer who, in mid field, waves a friendly hand to a speedingtrain. 

As a result folk knew each other to a degree which some would callinsufferably well, and yet they did not weary. It was a curiouscondition in which life had few secrets and yet an ample privacy. There was, as it happened, little to secrete, and simultaneously therewas no straining of hospitality. In these close quarters each wasaware that the others knew what he or she could reasonably do, and, innatural consequence, did it with grace and simple ease. For yearsbefore the railway pushed up from Sudbury, the outer world was broughtinto touch when the bows of the bi-weekly steamer bumped softly againstthe big stringers of Filmer's dock, and papers and letters were thrownon a buckboard and galloped to the post office where presently thecommunity gathered and talked. 

There was no telephone to jangle, no electric light and no waterworks, but in the soil of St. Marys were springs of sweet water, and throughthe windows came the soft glow of lamplight as evening closed in, andthe shuffle of feet on the porch announced the visitor. It was fromthe river and the close encircling forest that St. Marys took on itsatmosphere. The maple bush was full of game, and the beaver builttheir curving dams in tamarac thickets within three miles of thevillage. It was a common thing to kill Sunday's dinner in a two hoursstroll from Filmer's store, and, at the foot of the rapids where theIndians pushed their long canoes up to the edge of the white water, there were great, silver fish for the taking. The ducks halted for arest on their way north and within a stone's throw of the Bishop's big, square house, the geese used to alight in a cornfield, sometimes on aSunday morning. On such occasions the Bishop experienced keenembarrassment, for he was a good shot and a good sportsman. Inspringtime the Indians would come up from the settlement with mink andotter which they traded at Filmer's store for bags of brown sugar, and, these, being silently transported to the bush, would shortly reappearas quantities of genuine Indian maple sugar, which Filmer's clerks soldto Filmer's friends with absolute gravity, the nature of the thingbeing perfectly understood on both sides of the counter. As to localexcitement, there was twice a year the County Court and, while it mightbe said that there was not in all this much for young people to do, they had, nevertheless, camping trips and cruises in big Mackinaw boatsalong the shores of Lake Huron, and snow shoeing expeditions in winterthat took them straight into a fairyland where they built roaring firesof six foot logs and feasted royally in the ghostly recesses of thesnow burdened woods. All this and much more had the folk of thevillage, and everything that went to make up a sweet, clean, uneventfullife. And then into this Arcadia dropped one day a stranger, with anamazing experience of the outer world, a kaleidoscopic brain, anextraordinary personal magnetism and a unique combination of drivingforce and superlative ambition. 

Is it surprising that even though ignorant of Clark's characteristicsthe people of St. Marys filled the town hall that night?

II. --ARCADIA WAKES UP

It was a large room with bare floor, painted walls and a flatsounding-board of a ceiling. Across the end was the platform, andimmediately above the platform table hung a large brass lamp whichcould be lowered by a chain that ran along the ceiling and down theadjoining wall. Around the main walls and between the windows weresmaller lamps in wire brackets, which burned with a steady, yellowlight, and occasionally gave off a thin trickle of smoke that filledthe room with the sharp odor of soot. On the platform sat Clark andFilmer on either side of the table, and on the table stood an enormousjug of water and one glass. 

At five minutes past eight the hall was crowded. Manson was there, sitting in the front row, and leaning forward on his heavy oak stickwhich seemed a very bludgeon of authority. Beside him sat his wife, small, slight and gentle, the very antithesis of her dark andformidable husband. Manson's eyes roved from Filmer to Clark and backagain to Filmer, but the two looked over his head and seemed no whitdisconcerted. A little further back were the Dibbotts, the formerturning his big gray-coated body, and every now and then surveying thegrowing audience with his small blue eyes, while his lips pushed in andout, which was in Dibbott a certain sign that he was thinking hard. Mrs. Dibbott, tall, slim, and square shouldered, turned her kindlycapable face toward Clark, and felt the first intimation of that keeninterest he always roused, especially in the women who met him. Heseemed so alert, such a free agent and, it must be confessed, sodisgracefully independent of the gentler sex. Then there was Belding, the young engineer who had had charge of the town's work at the canal. It was not Belding's fault that the money ran out, but he had ceasedoperations with an unshakable sense of personal blame that, of late, worked poisonously in his brain. There were also the Bowers, and Mrs. Bowers' ample and genial person was full of a pleasurable glow, for ifthe mayor's plan went through they would have at last a roof over thefront porch on which she spent so many hospitable summer evenings. Bowers himself already saw in Clark a possible and important client, and his brain was full of half formulated propositions. 

At seven minutes past eight the mayor began to speak. He had beensomewhat at a loss just how he might introduce Clark, for, as a matterof fact, the only information he had about the visitor was what thevisitor himself had volunteered. But here, as always, Clark'stremendous personality had expressed itself. Filmer glanced at hisalert but motionless figure, and perceived that the other was a man ofmuch greater experience and power than himself, and in this the mayorwas subject to exactly that influence which Clark was in the habit ofexerting without any effort whatever. So thus reinforced, and mindfulas well that the half yearly interest and sinking fund payments wouldbe due on the town debt in three months, he fastened an authoritativeeye on Manson, the town pessimist, and commenced. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I have asked you to come here to-night becauseit seems that there is now an unexpected opportunity to secure greatbenefit for the town. You are all aware that we tried to do somethingand failed, and that the result was an increase of one hundred andthirty thousand dollars in the debt of St. Marys. " At this pointManson rammed his oak stick against the floor with disturbing effect. The mayor glanced at him with a smile and went on. "I do not wish toput before you the proposal Mr. Clark makes to the town, he will dothat himself. I can only say that I have gone into it very carefullywith him, and that I am satisfied that it is more than fair to us, andthat I believe he is in control of the necessary money to carry out hisplans. If he does not carry them out we are no worse off, and if hedoes it will put St. Marys definitely on the map. He will speak forhimself and I hope you will give a careful hearing, for I don't believesuch men get off the train every day. "

Clark was on his feet at once and began to talk in a curt, incisivetone of great penetration. Behind it there moved a suggestion ofsomething quite new to the folk of St. Marys. The moment offered noopportunity to analyze this, but it held them motionless with attention. 

"I have come, " he said, "to make you a proposal which has already beenput before Mayor Filmer, and which I am glad to tell you meets with hisapproval. I appreciate the opportunity, and with your coöperationgreat things will yet be done in St. Marys. Now I am going to ask thattwo windows be opened and that you listen with me for a moment. "

There followed an instant of universal surprise shared by the mayor, after which Clark gathered Dawson and Belding with his magnetic eye, and the two pushed up the windows nearest them. The cool night airbreathed in and set the big oil lamps flickering, but with it therecame the dull monotone of the rapids. Clark leaned slightly forward, and, smiling, began to speak again. 

"What you hear is a voice in the wilderness, and, ladies and gentlemen, you have heard it for years. I, too, have heard it, but for somethingless than eight hours, and there is a difference in our hearing and Iwant to make that difference clear to you. I listen with a stranger'sears, being a stranger, and therefore not accustomed to that voice, Idetect in it something which possibly some of you may have recognized, but certainly none of you have fully appreciated. "

There followed a little silence during which Mrs. Dibbott, her eyestwinkling with intense pleasure, nodded to Mrs. Worden. Herimagination was already at work, and, of them all, she first caught thesubtle trend of Clark's address. 

"It is hardly necessary for me to remind you that your town has made acertain brave attempt and failed completely in its venture. " ("Hear!Hear!" from Manson. ) "This attempt was from the outset bound to fail. "At this point Manson stamped approvingly, and Clark's gray eyes restedon his big frame for a moment while the least suggestion of a smiletraversed his lips. "The reason is very simple. You lacked experiencein such undertakings. You partly heard the voice but only partly, forto answer it fully and successfully you must answer it in millions andnot in thousands of dollars. "

At this point he paused impressively, while there spread through theaudience the dun colored reflection that the entire town, ifobliterated, could be rebuilt for much less than a million, and sodefinite was the reaction that the speaker proceeded to intensify it inhis next remarks. 

"You have at present, as the result of this ill-fated enterprise, aliability of one hundred and thirty thousand dollars--I think it is. "He turned inquiringly to Filmer who nodded, and with him the entiremale section of the audience. There was no question about thosefigures. 

"This liability imposes a heavy tax upon an unproductive community, although if you were producers it would be a bagatelle. As againstthis liability you have, as assets, a certain piece of property andcertain water rights secured from the Dominion government, rights whichthough at present very limited, might be made the basis of furtherexpansion. And that is all you have--a debt, and against it somethingthat is of no use to you. "

A chilled surprise trickled through the town hall and Filmer himself, who had been quite unaware how Clark would state his case, began tothink that the thing had gone far enough, when the penetrating voicewent on. 

"Now as to the town itself. I have failed, after a careful survey, tofind any evidence of growth. I have seen no new buildings, nor, underthe conditions which at present exist and which there is nothing youcan do to change, do I see any reason for growth. You do notmanufacture or import anything. You have, so to speak, to live on eachother, so why should any one come here to settle down?"

Although Clark had said several striking things, there had not beenanything which went as straight home as this. All had watched thegreat procession which passed up and down the river, and wondered whythe population of St. Marys remained so stationary, but never had theinescapable truth been thrown so blatantly in their faces as by thismagnetic stranger whose clear voice announced those truths which eachhad been secreting in his heart year after year. They began to wonderwhy a man of his type should be interested in the town. But the factthat he was interested clothed him with a still more compellingattraction. Visions of a decaying and moss covered settlement werefloating through their minds when the voice took on a new note. 

"The condition I have touched on is due to lack of threethings, --experience, money and imagination, and in such isolated pointsas this there is little opportunity to acquire any of the three. Thereis in the rapids unlimited power. It must be developed, and developedon this side of the river. The age of electricity has come. But letus ask ourselves what is the use of power unless there is somepractical purpose to which to put it. There is but one answer. Largeworks--enormous works must be established at the rapids; works thatwill utilize all the power that is developed, and draw their rawmaterial from the surrounding country. I have an idea that you mayconsider the district to the north and west a wilderness, but, gentlemen, you are mistaken. I firmly believe it to be a veritablereservoir of wealth. "

Here Clark stopped, glanced thoughtfully at Filmer, and poured out aglass of water, while the entire audience took an imaginary journeyinto the bush to the north in an attempt to discover the reservoir ofwealth. This resulted in numerous quiet smiles, each of which died outwith a look at the intense earnestness on the speaker's face. Therewas a certain amount of fur, it was admitted, but the trapping wasfalling off. There were scattered patches of spruce for pulp wood, butso far as most of them knew the land was poor and rocky and there hadbeen no discovery of valuable mineral. However, silently concludedClark's hearers, the man might know, and probably did know a good dealmore than he said, and just as this opinion was gaining ground, thespeaker struck an inspiring note and came to his point. 

"Now for my proposal. I believe in the future of this country, in itslatent wealth and its possibilities, and I am prepared to take on thetown's uncompleted enterprise and assume its one hundred and thirtythousand dollars of liability. Gentlemen, what I have in mind goesfurther than any of you have ever imagined, and it needs more millionsthan you have conceived. Millions will be forthcoming. In thefinancial markets of the world, capital must be assured of certainfundamentals. These fundamentals established, there is no difficultywhatever in securing as much money as may be required. That is myexperience, and if you accept my proposition St. Marys will, within ayear, begin to feel the influx of money which is seeking investment. Within that year you will hardly be able to recognize your town. Yourproperty, your houses, your farm products will greatly increase invalue, and local trade will experience a remarkable impetus. If youask what are these basic industries which will mean so much, I needonly point out that I am assured of an ample supply of pulp wood forvery large mills which I propose to erect, and there is, without doubt, iron ore in these hills of yours. This is only a part of my plan. "

Again Clark paused, playing with all his power on those who had alreadygrasped something of his vision. Ore had never been found in that partof the country, though innumerable prospectors had toiled through thehills in search of it, but now it seemed that the folk of St. Marys hadcast aside their difference and unbelief, and were becomingincorporated in the speaker's high assurance. A little murmur ofenthusiasm arose, to be hushed instantly. 

"I only want your coöperation. I do not ask that you put in onedollar. There is ample money for the purpose, and I tell you franklythere is no room for yours. It is not my intention to bring in for thepurposes of the work anything the town itself can supply, and the moreyou can organize to supply amongst yourselves, the better pleased I andmy associates will be. All I hope is that you participateintelligently and profitably in that which will shortly take place. And first of all it will be my duty and pleasure to supply the townwith water and light on terms to be arranged with your council. Thiswill be the smallest and to me the least profitable of ourundertakings, but I regard it as an obligation to the town. Ladies andgentlemen, a new era is dawning for St. Marys. Have I your support?"

Had he their support? There followed a moment of half dazed silenceduring which Filmer's blood flushed up to his temples, and Clarkfinished his glass of water and sat down with a swift glance of hisgray eyes that seemed to take in the entire assembly. As thoughgalvanized by an electric shock, the folk of St. Marys rose to theirfeet and began to cheer. The ladies' handkerchiefs were in the air, with a babel of voices both small and deep. Mrs. Dibbott, her eyesdancing, caught those of Mrs. Worden and nodded vigorously, her cheeksflushed, for to men and women alike the invigorating, magnetic appealhad gone home. Then above the clamor Manson's deep bass becamegradually audible. 

He was leaning forward, gazing straight out at the two on the platformand booming his utter unbelief in all he had heard. Clark, it struckhim, did not know what he was talking about, and who was Clark anyway?Had a single man in the room ever heard of Clark before that afternoon?The town had made one blunder, and it would be wise to keep out ofanother. 

Thus far he got when the astonishment of the audience becametransformed into indignation and boiled over. Clark had not moved andindeed only smiled in an absolutely friendly way, but now there wereshouts that Manson sit down. He was putting the town in an unfortunateand undesirable position. Finally, Belding and Worden dragged himexpostulating into his chair, whereupon Dibbott and Bowers veryearnestly, and with much applause, expressed what the meeting reallyfelt. After which the resolution was put calling upon the town councilto confirm the agreement, and without any delay whatever. And thisbeing carried unanimously with cheering, the meeting broke up andstreamed down the wooden stairs with much trampling of feet, while Mrs. Dibbott asked Mrs. Bowers if she had noticed that every one was sointerested that the two windows which were opened had not been closedagain in spite of the fact that three lamps had been blown out. Allthis time the visitor sat still, a satisfied light in his eyes, andwhen Dibbott and the rest asked to be introduced, the mayor exclaimedthat the speaker of the evening was so occupied with momentous mattersthat he was obliged to postpone the pleasure of meeting them for a dayor two. This, of course, added to the spell of fascination cast by theremarkable stranger. 

A day or two later, he was to disappear as suddenly as he came, but inthe meantime he avoided the people of St. Marys and was extremely busy. To his room at the hotel there had mounted a small procession ofvisitors, mostly lumbermen, who, being for a few moments admitted tothe shrine of mystery, reappeared with their eyes more bright and theirlips pressed tight. They had been discussing business matters, andthis was for the present about all they would say. The town council, without a dissenting note, accepted Clark's proposal, and the latterbecame a legal debtor for one hundred and thirty thousand dollars andthe owner of the abandoned works, and so simply and smoothly was thebusiness carried out that to the council there seemed something magicaland portentous in the transaction. 

That afternoon Clark sent for Belding, and the young engineer came withan expectant thrill. By this time St. Marys was aware that the visitorwent to no one, but every one came to him. It was typical of methodswhich he adopted from the very first, so that almost immediately hispersonality, which was entirely new to this remote community, began tosuggest every phase of power and authority. 

Belding had brought his plans and blue prints with him, and spread themon the small bedroom table. Followed a little silence, broken by acrisp interrogation. 

"How much power have you figured on developing?"

"Five hundred horse power. "

"Capable of any expansion?" Clark's lips took on a quizzical curve. 

"Yes, to one thousand. "

To this there was no comment. Belding himself rather liked the soundof a thousand horsepower. It seemed well rounded. 

"Your water rights, I mean my water rights, " went on Clarkthoughtfully, "permit the use of water for such works as I may erect. "

"Yes, " the engineer hesitated a moment and added, "sir. "

Clark smiled almost imperceptibly, that is his face expressed an inwardamusement because a number of tiny lines wrinkled into being at thecorners of his gray eyes, and his lips pushed out ever so slightly. Presently he forgot all about the plans, and stared out of the windowwhere the first leap of the rapids was just visible. 

"And your technical experience, Mr. Belding, tell me about that. "

Belding told him, and did his best to dilate on work that now seemed ofa minor character. There was that about Clark which curiouslyminimized the young man's accomplishments. 

Clark nodded once or twice. "Do you owe any money?"

"No, sir. " Belding's voice roughened a shade. 

Came one of the stranger's rare and unmistakable smiles. "Forget allabout these plans and start new ones. I have no use for a thousandhorsepower, or five thousand, or ten. We will begin with twentythousand. I say begin with that. Now listen. You are appointed mychief engineer. I said last night I did not wish to import that whichthe town can furnish, and I mean it. But being my engineer you aremine, and no one else's. The plans you will make are for me, and mealone, as is all information connected with them, and I may tell youthat my engineers carry out my plans and not theirs. Your positionwill be highly confidential, more important than you can at presentimagine. You will be the repository of much that many people wouldlike to know, but I will do whatever talking is necessary. "

There were a few added instructions after which Belding went downstairsin a somewhat dazed condition. Then, suddenly, he remembered that nomention had been made of salary. Turning back he rapped at Clark'sdoor. 

"There is one thing we did not discuss, " he said a little awkwardly. 

"What's that?"

"What are you willing to give me a month. I'm apparently engaged andI'd like to know where I stand. "

Clark laughed shortly. "My invariable practice is to pay every cent myemployees can earn; the more I pay the better I like it. Good evening. "

Later that afternoon the engineer walked thoughtfully up to the powercanal. It seemed incredible that it should no longer be abandoned. Staring at this uncompleted effort, he felt infused with a hot andoverwhelming loyalty. Whatever was good in him he would put into thework. He did not dream of the magnitude of his coming trust, but had asensation that the curtain was about to rise on a new scene. He was, perhaps, more than the rest impressed with the visitor's force andhypnotic power which seemed prophetic and almost mystical. Then hisglance, wandering down stream, caught a trace of smoke where theafternoon steamer was disappearing round a bend. 

Clark had gone off by the afternoon boat, explaining to Filmer that hedesired to get a glimpse of some other parts of the country. Now hesat immovably in a corner of the deck, wrapped in a thick overcoat andspeaking to none. In his hand was a copy of the town agreement. Heran over it musingly till he came to the clause which set forth his newobligations, and at this point his lips tightened a little. Had he atthat moment been able to realize every worldly possession he had hemight have cleared up twenty-five hundred dollars but certainly notfive thousand. A glint came into his eyes as he read. The agreementset forth in Bowers' best phraseology that Robert Fisher Clark ofPhiladelphia, financier, --and at the sound of the last word Clarksmiled a little, --hereby undertook to spend in various works not lessthan three million dollars in the next five years, failing which histitle to the town's former holdings would automatically lapse. 

The vessel moved smoothly on. Reviewing the last few days with perfectplacidity, he sent his mind back to other notable occasions whensuccess had been snatched from him, it seemed, at the very last moment. The review did not depress him. He was not of that kind, but wasfilled rather with a new and inflexible determination. 

The dream and the vision broadened. As the vessel swung into the longturn that leads round the first big bend, he glanced back and caughtthe wide white line of foam below the spidery bridge. As he gazed thewooded ground to the north of the rapids seemed to be covered withgreat stone buildings whose walls lifted like mystic battlements in thegreen wilderness. He saw railways plunging into the forest and heardthe rumble of trains that drew up to his phantom factories. He saw theriver and the lakes furrowed with ships that came to St. Marys withforeign cargoes and, charged full with his products, turned their slimbows to distant lands. All this and much more passed in royalprocession before his thoughtful eye. Then something seemed to leapthrough his brain and he stood erect, masterful and undaunted. 

"And now, " he said to himself with a touch of grim humor, "now perhapsI'd better find some money. "

III. --PHILADELPHIA HEARS ABOUT ARCADIA

Follow Clark a little further, for he was making history. He did notthink of this but had merely set a determined face toward his guidingstar. The vision was still clear and sharp when he reachedPhiladelphia, reinspired by a series of swift calculations that were asswiftly stowed away for suitable use in his retentive brain. Therewere also three names--Wimperley, Riggs, and Stoughton. 

The morning after he arrived he went to see the first of his prospects. Wimperley was the auditor of a great railway system, and when Clark'sname was brought in he looked up from his desk and announced shortly:"Busy, can't see him, " which was really what Clark expected. 

Now the influence by which Clark forced and carried out this interviewwith Wimperley need not be succinctly described, nor the half amused, half resentful surrender with which Wimperley finally said, "Show himin, " but it is indicative of that power of hypnosis which Clark couldexert at will, and by means of which, time and time again, he dissolvedantagonism into support and the murky solution of criticism into theclean precipitate of confident reassurance. Wimperley knew perfectlywell that, once admitted, Clark would convert him to his own presentbelief, whatever that might be, and that under Clark's magneticpersuasion he would shortly find himself treading a totally unexpectedpath. 

"Good morning. I'd like to have fifteen minutes. " Clark was inwardlyamused, but he spoke with perfect gravity. 

Wimperley drew a long breath. He knew what could happen in fifteenminutes. "What's the scheme now?"

"Power and pulp, " said Clark briefly, and, turning to a large railwaymap on the wall laid a finger on the point where Lake Superior fallsinto Lake Huron. 

"Go ahead. "

"I have acquired the right to develop any desired quantity of energy. This can be done for eighty dollars a horsepower. The country to thenorth is full of pulp wood, but the people up there don't know it. "

Wimperley felt a throb of interest. The power question in Philadelphiawas up at the moment, but it was power developed from coal and it camehigh. 

"What else?" he said evenly, "and how do you know it?"

"Seven different lumbermen have offered to contract for ten thousandcords a year. That's all I had time to talk to. The point is thateach has individual knowledge of good stands of timber in his ownlocality but the thing has never been collated. Now look here, " wenton Clark, with a new light in his gray eyes--"there's power and wood;excellent transportation; iron ore--without question--in the hills;limestone at hand; cheap labor; no local competition, and--"

"Wait a minute, " struck in Wimperley hastily and pressed a bell. 

"Telephone Mr. Riggs and Mr. Stoughton and see if they can come overfor a moment, " he said to his secretary, then, turning to Clark, "better wait for them. "

Silence fell in the office. Both men were thinking hard. Wimperley, beginning to be resigned, had, in a burst of revolt, visualized Riggsand Stoughton as those most likely to help with the barricade whichClark was already beginning to shatter, and Clark, his face asimperturbable as ever, marveled not at all at his own influence, butwas busy reviewing the strategic moves which were to convert the twofor whom he waited. Presently they entered, shook hands with a certainstiffness and sat down. A glance at Clark revealed the reason forWimperley's summons. They, too, had in former years come under thespell. 

"Now, " said Wimperley briefly. 

Clark recapitulated, and the three listened, their faces devoid ofexpression save when their eyes involuntarily sought each other. 

The voice went on vibrant and compelling. "We can turn outseventy-five thousand tons of pulp a year at a profit of six dollars aton. There is an abundance of hard wood for veneer mills. I have fivehundred acres of land adjoining the power canal; it is crossed by theTranscontinental Railway; I have been to Ottawa and am promised a bonusof ten thousand dollars a mile for such railways as we may build. Thebalance of the cost will be met by the sale of lands thus developed, and thus the railways will not mean any permanent investment on ourpart, but we will, nevertheless, own them. I am also authorized todivert from the rapids any water I may require for power. I have beento see the Provincial Government and am promised exclusive control ofany mineral or lumber areas applied for. The market for pulp is verygood and will shortly be better owing to the exhaustion of areas whichhave been cut over too long. I have virgin country which ispractically inexhaustible. The town has transferred to me its entirerights and holdings. I have all the fundamentals for the making of agreat industrial center. As to the money--"

"Yes, " put in Riggs with a suggestion of breathlessness in his voice. 

"Philadelphia has millions waiting for investment--you know it, I knowit, and this is the opportunity. We will be dealing with naturalproducts in a simple and natural way. The district supplies the powerand the raw material; the outside and neighboring country, the market. We supply the brains. "

"What does this cost you personally?" hazarded Stoughton a littleuncertainly. 

"A hundred dollars in traveling expenses, and I have assumed a hundredand thirty thousand of town debentures at six per cent. If you don'twant it there are others who do. "

Wimperley looked up. His face had taken on a new expression. Hecaught Riggs' eye and his lips formed the word "cheap. "

The latter nodded. There was a slight flush in his otherwise sallowcheeks. Then he put a series of searching questions which wereanswered by Clark with a wealth of detailed information which it seemedwas impossible to have been collected by one man in the course of a fewdays. After which the three went to the big map and, turning theirbacks on Clark, traced out railway lines and steamship routes and thegeneral transportation situation, and all the while the latter satquite motionless, while his eyes regarded the group across the roomwith a look at once hypnotic and profound. These were telling moments, during which unseen forces seemed to move and stretch themselves inhidden potency. 

Presently came Wimperley's voice. "How much money would be necessaryfor the first year's operations?"

"About a million, possibly more. "

"And how, " demanded Stoughton, "do you propose to get it?"

"I am not going to get it, " replied Clark with extreme placidity; "youare. "

Came a joint laugh from the three at the map, not hearty or contagious, but burdened with that negative humor with which men sometimes accept asituation which holds them helpless and at the same time summons alltheir power to meet it. 

Stoughton drew a long breath. "Well, " he said slowly; "I suppose weare. "

There followed an hour's conference. Clark did not display a trace oftriumph but poured out the contents of his extraordinary brain. Amillion to start with and after that more millions as the occasiondemanded. These were his requirements and the rest could be left tohim. And it might be noted that the prospect did not cause the othersmuch anxiety, for as the undertaking unfolded with communicable power, they perceived more fully than ever that he was in actuality dealingwith fundamentals, and fundamentals were things they were not afraid tocommend to financial circles. Thus was sown in this Philadelphiaoffice the seed which was destined to propagate itself so amazingly. 

When it was all over, Clark went back to his hotel, and wrote a shortletter to a woman saying that he had interesting business on hand andhoped to see her soon. The letter was to his mother. 

IV. --PRELIMINARIES IN ST. MARYS

Snow was on the ground and the river crisping with tinkling sheets ofspreading ice when Clark again reached St. Marys and withcharacteristic energy laid his first plans. These were to supply thetown with water and light, and the fact that the well remembered publicpromise was thus to be redeemed reassured the citizens as nothing elsecould have done. It was true that heavy work was impossible beforespring, but Belding, on instructions, deposited with the town councilan imposing set of blue prints which showed water pipes and electriccircuits radiating through every part of the town. 

It was a week or so later that one day in the office Belding looked upas though he had been called and caught his chief's penetrating gaze. 

"Are you engaged, Belding; I mean to be married?" There was a twinklein the gray eyes. 

"No, sir. "

"Want to be?"

"No, sir. "

"Anything to think of except the work?"

Belding shook his head. He had already learned never to show surprise. 

"Then suppose I share your quarters for the rest of the winter. Ican't stand that hotel any longer. "

The engineer flushed. Already he had put Clark away in the corner ofhis mind as one not comparable to any man he had ever met. Hisdirectness, his versatility, the suggestion of power that lay behindpower, --all these Belding had found in him. And this was a little likebeing asked to share quarters with the Pope. 

"I'm afraid you won't be very comfortable, sir. " Belding had the useof a big house, but it was hard to heat. 

"I'll be better off than where I am, " said Clark, and that settled it. He had apparently conceived for the young man as much liking as hecared to show for any one. Presently he laughed. 

"You're wondering why I asked whether you were going to be married. "

"I am--rather. "

"Well, it's only because I feel a bit superfluous to any one in thatcondition. "

"Then you're not married yourself?" said Belding involuntarily. 

Clark's eyes hardened. "No, " he answered with extreme deliberation, "Iam not, I am too busy. " Presently his mood changed and he addedprovocatively, "But you're doomed, I see it in your face. "

Belding smiled. "I haven't met her yet. "

"It isn't a case of your meeting her; it's the other way on. You maynever know it, but she will. "

Belding glanced at him, puzzled. This was not the Clark he knew tenminutes ago. And just then the other man pulled himself up. 

"I think I'd move that mill about a hundred feet west, " he went on, bending over a drawing. "It will shorten the head race and save money. "

The engineer nodded and drew a long breath. He had expected to get aglimpse of the inner man, but the door was banged in his face. 

That winter was, for him, an adventure in regions fascinating andremote. It is probable that at the time there was not on the NorthAmerican continent a man more highly endowed than Clark with gifts ofsheer psychological power. Belding, young in his world, could notrecognize it as such, but he fell the more completely under thewizard-like spell of his companion's imagination. The days, shortenedby late sun and long nights, passed with early journeys to thetemporary office which Clark had built at the canal, where theycompiled endless surveys and plans in which the scope of the future wasgraphically depicted. On these miniature spaces factory shoulderedagainst factory and mill against mill. The canal doubled in size, and, stupendous as it all seemed, Belding could see no reason why thesethings should not shortly exist. It was vastly different from formerdays. 

As the weeks passed, he began to get Clark in clearer prospective. Itbecame forced on him that this hypnotic stranger had no desire exceptthat of creation. It seemed that his supreme determination was to winfrom the earth that which he believed it offered, and express himselfin steel and stone and concrete, in the construction of great buildingsand in the impressive rumble of natural power under human control. There was talk of many things, colored by keen, incisive comments fromthis man of many parts, but never once did he put forward the subjectof wealth or the means of its amassing. The possession, or at leastthe direction, of great sums was imperative to him, but he valued themonly for what they could achieve, and Belding always got the sensationof his new approach to subjects hitherto deemed well worn, and thatremarkable mixture of impatience and intuitive power whichcharacterized his analysis. Again there were evenings when Clark didnot want to talk, but slipped off to the piano. Then the engineer sawanother man within the man, one who, plunged in profound meditation, sat for hours, while his strong yet delicate fingers explored the keys, interpreting the color of his mood and drawing, as it were, from somemystical source that on which the subtle brain was nourished. Andthese were periods which the other soon learned were not to beinterrupted. 

They were constantly asked out and entertained with old timehospitality, Clark being the object of supreme curiosity in St. Marys, and more often than not he slipped away early, leaving Belding on duty. It was on these occasions that the contrast between his chief andothers stood out most prominently, there being nothing, it seemed, thatany one could do for him. His principal desire was to be let alone. 

It was one night at the Wordens' that Belding caught what he took to beevidence of a heart that was fastidiously concealed. Clark, in frontof the fireplace, was listening to the judge dilate on the ancienthistory of St. Marys, and that of lost and silent tribes who oncepaddled along the shore and lifted their delicate bark canoes aroundthe tumbling rapids. Worden was a wise, old man with a certain gentledignity, and his wife, a dainty, middle-aged lady with slowly grayinghair and kindly eyes. 

"There was a good deal of bloodshed about, " ruminated the judge. "Ofcourse the Jesuit got here first and performed the mysteries of theHost in front of the natives. There were Indian wars and a good dealof torturing went on up on your property, Mr. Clark. Then the Frenchand English traders shot each other from behind trees, where Iunderstand you are going to build your pulp mill, and the survivorstook the furs and struck off for Montreal in canoes, a matter of somesix hundred miles. After that the Red River Company and the Hudson Baygot at loggerheads. "

"In short, " put in Clark, "I've picked out a veritable battle ground. By the way, who is this, if I may ask?" He lifted a photograph fromthe mantel. 

Mrs. Worden smiled proudly. "Our daughter, Elsie. She's seventeen nowand we won't see her for two years. She's in the West with her aunt. "

"Oh!" said Clark. His brows pulled down and he scanned the print withclose attention. "She has imagination I take it. "

"Too much for her own comfort, " remarked the judge. 

Clark did not answer but dropped into one of those thoughtful silenceswhich, while they did not seem to exclude, made it nevertheless appearpresumptuous to rouse him. 

"Too much imagination, " he repeated presently. "Is that possible?"Then, after another long stare, "It's a very unusual face. "

Mrs. Worden looked very happy. "We're going to take great care ofElsie when we get her back. She had this long, delightful invitationand we let her go because we thought she'd see more than she could in|St. Marys, but she writes that it's even quieter. "

"The old St. Marys is nearly at an end and your daughter will find foodfor her imagination when she gets back. May I show this to Mr. Belding?"

The young man took the photograph with a queer sense of participationin something he did not understand. He saw a broad, low forehead, masses of soft and slightly curly hair, eyes that looked beautifullyand wistfully, out from beneath finely arched brows and a mouth thatlacked nothing in humorous suggestion. Puzzling for an instant what itwas that had attracted his impersonal chief, he heard the latter sayinggood night with customary abruptness. 

"Come along, Belding; we've got a long day ahead of us. The directorswill be here to-morrow. "

The judge was vastly interested. "So St. Marys is in actual touch withPhiladelphia?"

"Very much so, and in about two years St. Marys will loom very large inPhiladelphia. Good night and thank you. "

The wind was stinging and they drove home rather silently. Arriving atthe big house, Clark went to the piano and played for a moment. Themusic ceased as suddenly as it began and, warming himself at the greatstove in the hall, Belding heard a short laugh and an exclamation. "Too much imagination, " exploded Clark. The tone was one of utterincredulity. At that the young man felt curiously truculent. Elsiewas only seventeen, while Clark was certainly not less thanthirty-five. Then the latter reappeared, rubbing his chilled fingers. 

"The piano is too stiff with cold to talk. By the way, Worden wastalking about the bishop. What bishop?"

Belding told him what he knew. "He's an Irishman and a fine man. Heworks this part of his diocese from St. Marys in the summer. One hearsall kinds of stories about him from the woods and the islands. He'sgot a sense of humor and is a good sportsman, but I've only met himonce or twice. Just now he's over in England raising money to buy asmall yacht to navigate himself when he's traveling on duty, andweather won't stop him if he gets it. You'll see him next spring. "

Clark seemed interested. "I don't know many parsons but that doesn'tdescribe them to me. A sportsman and a sense of humor, eh? It soundslike a hunting parson. I thought they were all dead. "

"This one isn't. "

"St. Marys begins to offer more than I expected, " smiled his chief. "Are you going to bed, or will you sit here and freeze to death?"

Riggs, Stoughton, and Wimperley came up next day. Clark met them atthe station, where a bitter wind was droning down from the north, andBelding, by engineering of a high order, made room for them at hisquarters. Then they drove out to the canal, and with Clark climbed theicy embankment while the latter expounded the situation. 

"There, " he said cheerfully, "will be the first power house, and theremill number one. "

Riggs, a small thin-blooded man, peered at the glassy landscape. "Splendid, " he chattered, while Stoughton pulled his fur collar overhis ears and set his back to the wind. 

"Up at the north end, --you can see it better if you step a little thisway--will be the head gates. That railway trestle--you see thattrestle don't you, Wimperley?--"

Wimperley pulled himself together, but his feet had lost all feeling. "Yes, any one could see that. "

"Well, that will be replaced by a steel bridge at the railway'sexpense. We propose to widen the canal at that point to one hundredfeet at the bottom, and now--" here he seized the unfortunate Stoughtonand swung him so that he faced into the chilling blast--"I want topoint out the booming ground for logs. "

Stoughton muttered something that sounded like strong condemnation ofall logs, but Clark did not seem to hear him. 

"They'll come round that point, swing into the bay and feed down thisway to the mill. You get that, don't you?"

They all got it, at least so they earnestly assured the speaker whostood with his overcoat half unbuttoned, his cap on the back of hishead and apparently oblivious of the temperature. This frigid anddesolate scene had no terrors for him. Beneath the icy skin hediscovered its promise. 

"There'll be two booms--one for pulp wood and the other for hard woodfor the veneer mills. You make hard wood float by driving plugs oflighter wood into both ends of the log. And now, if you'll step downthis way, I'll show you where the dredges will start work. "

"Look here, " said Riggs in a quavering voice, "what's the matter withmy cheek? I can't feel it. "

Clark glanced at him and shook with sudden laughter. "Only a bit offrost bite, --perhaps we'd better go back to the office. It's a pity, though, "--here he hesitated a little--"there's quite a lot more to see. "

Whereupon Riggs and the other two at once assured him that unless theysought shelter forthwith they would flatly refuse to authorize theexpenditure of any more money whatever in a country as blasted as this. After which they repaired to the office, where Belding waited with hisblue prints and Clark outlined the possible future. As he put it, these developments were only possible and depended on what that futuremight bring forth. But as he talked, Belding, for one, knew that thewhole magnificent program had been definitely determined in thatastonishing brain. 

They drove back in the open sleigh and the horses, chilled in the cold, sent the snow flying about their ears. There was but little talk andit was not until they drew abreast of a stone building that Stoughtonspoke. 

"Nice jail you've got here, " he remarked with a grin. "Looks as ifthey had been expecting our crowd. "

Clark laughed. "It's the home of the only pessimist I have found inSt. Marys. "

"Then let's drop in and convert him. " Stoughton was feeling warmer, and the keen, dry air and brilliant sun affected him like wine. 

There was an instantaneous shout of approval, and three school boys inthe shape of the three most influential men of Philadelphia rolledhappily out of the sleigh. Riggs turned with mischief in his eye and abright red patch on his cheek. 

"Come on, Clark; we need something like this after the dose you havegiven us. "

At the trampling of feet, Manson looked out of the window, then steppeddeliberately to the door. The next minute Clark was busy introducing. "Mr. Manson, this is Mr. Wimperley, auditor of the Columbian RailwayCompany; Mr. Riggs, president of the Philadelphia Bank, and Mr. Stoughton, of the American Iron Works. We're all cold and castourselves on your mercy. They've had enough power canal for to-day. "

Manson waved them in with just the gesture with which he motioned aprisoner into the dock. It was the only gesture he knew. His brainwas working with unwonted rapidity, and he glanced questioningly atClark, but the face of the latter was impassive. The visitors groupedthemselves round the big box stove that was stuffed with blazinghardwood. 

"Lived here long, Mr. Manson?" hazarded Riggs, stretching his thinfingers to the heat. 

"All my life, gentlemen, and I don't want anything else. "

"You haven't been in jail for that time?" put in the irrepressibleStoughton. 

The big man relaxed to a smile. "I've been in charge here for the lasttwenty-five years, and I like it. "

The three glanced at him with a sudden and genuine interest. The manwas so massive; his hair so black, and, at the age of fifty, stillunstreaked with gray. His face was large and strong, with a certainJovian quality in cheek, ear, and chin. He suggested latent physicalpowers that, if aroused, would be tremendous. 

"Find it pretty quiet?" went on Stoughton. 

"Yes, but that's what I like. "

"Then you don't entirely approve of our plans up at the rapids? Atleast, so Mr. Clark tells me. "

Manson's glance lifted and went straight into Clark's gray eyes. 

"No, I don't believe in them, if, " he added, "I can say so withoutoffense. "

Riggs stripped off his heavy fur coat, and turned his back to the stove. 

"Just why, may I ask?"

"Well, I have a feeling you'll spoil St. Marys. It's just right as itis. We haven't much excitement and I reckon we don't want it. We'recomfortable, so why can't you let us alone? I like the life as it is. "

"You'll live faster after we get going, " chuckled Wimperley. 

"Perhaps, but we won't live so long. I've had a lot of men through myhands who tried to live faster, and it didn't agree with them--not thatI'm meaning--" The rest was lost in a riot of laughter, out of whichWimperley's voice became audible. 

"If things go as we propose and expect, the people of St. Marys willprofit very considerably, --there will be remarkable opportunities. "

"Meaning that, --" a new light flickered in Manson's black eyes for afraction of a second and disappeared. 

"Meaning that during the transformation of a village into a city anumber of interesting changes take place. "

"Maybe, but such things can't affect me very much. "

"Well, possibly not, but I've an idea they will. I'm afraid we can'tlet St. Marys alone, Mr. Manson, and a little later on you'llunderstand why. This land, for instance, between us and the river, isvacant. "

Manson's eye slowly traversed the two hundred yard width of the openfield that lay just south of the road. It was perhaps half way betweenthe rapids and the center of the village. 

"Yes, I think Worden owns it, but I know that no one wants it. "

"Ah!" said Stoughton with a little laugh; "and now we must be gettingon. Good-by, and thank you for saving our lives, even if you have hada crack at our project. "

There was a sound of laughing voices on the porch and a jangle ofsleigh bells that dwindled toward the village, but Manson did not seemto hear them. He stood blocking up the window, his hands thrust deepin his pockets, staring at the vacant lot across the street. 

Dinner that night cost Belding much searching of soul. "There'll bethree more, " Clark had said, and forgotten all about it, but when thePhiladelphians sat down Belding's heart sank. On the table was a legof mutton, placed hastily by an agitated servant lest it freeze betweenkitchen and dining room. Even while Belding carved it the gravy beganto stiffen. Behind Clark was a glowing fireplace, ineffectual againstthe outside temperature, the windows were white with frost and thewhole house seemed to creak. 

"Have some mutton, " said the young man desperately. 

Riggs rubbed his thin hands. "Thanks, I'm very fond of mutton. Do youmind if I put on my overcoat? The floor seems a little cold. " Hedisappeared and returned muffled to the ears. 

"You'd better hurry up with your food, " said Clark soberly. "The humanstomach cannot digest frozen sheep. " He glanced at Wimperley andStoughton. "What's the matter with you fellows?"

The two visitors coughed and apologized and went in search of theirovercoats. Clark began to laugh. "And to think that you three aregoing back to furnaces and steam heat. Do you realize what Belding andI are going through on your behalf?"

They got through the meal somehow, but Belding was utterly abashed. The visitors played with the congealing mutton, poked at forbiddingpotatoes, absorbed large quantities of scalding tea and then hastenedback to the big stove. Belding felt a hand on his shoulder. 

"It's my fault. We should have let them go to the hotel. I supposewe're used to it, they're not. "

Presently, Wimperley began to yawn. "I'm going to bed. "

Riggs glanced apprehensively upstairs, where it was even colder thanbelow. "I'm going to sleep in my clothes. My God! pajamas on a nightlike this. Clark, what are you made of?"

In ten minutes the big stove was deserted, and Clark went from room toroom tucking in his shivering visitors. 

V. --THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA

It was not till spring came and the earth relaxed her stiff andreappearing bones that Clark really got to work, and then arrived thefirst battalions of that great influx which was soon to follow. Up atthe rapids men and machinery became visible as though by magic. Belding had a curious sensation as he saw the product of his formerplans well nigh obliterated in the larger excavation which now began totake shape. His earlier efforts took on their due proportion, and hesmiled at the contrast, reveling in his opportunity for the fullexercise of his ability. But it is probable that neither Belding norany others amongst the leading men who, in time, were gathered into theworks, realized to what a degree they were animated by the mesmericinfluence of Clark. 

By this time Bowers, another local appointment, was the legalrepresentative of the Company, and the repository of great intentionswhich he guarded with scrupulous fidelity. Clark was redeeming hispromise not to import that which the town could provide. And then hemet the bishop. 

He saw the broad-shouldered, black-coated figure contemplating a steamshovel that was gnawing at the rocky soil beside the rapids. Thebishop was a big man with a handsome head, well shaped legs adornedwith episcopal gaiters, and a broad, deep chest. It was universallyadmitted that a less ample breast could not have contained so great aheart. 

"Good day, sir. " Clark involuntarily lifted his hat. The bishop heldout a firm white hand. "I've heard of you, Mr. Clark, and am glad tosee that Mahomet has come to his mountain. It's a little like a fairytale to me. "

"I hope it may prove as attractive. "

"But I believe in fairies, we need them nowadays. "

Clark smiled. "I'm afraid that St. Marys doesn't believe in them asyet, but I'll do what I can. "

"I suppose you've met every one here in the course of the winter?"

"Most I think. As a matter of fact one hasn't much time. "

"That's a new thing in winter in the North. Now show me what's goingon, I'm vastly interested. "

There was nothing that could have suited Clark better, and the twotramped about for an hour. At the end of it they stood near the headof the rapids and watched a coughing dredge tear into the soft bottom. 

"I used to come up here to fish, " said the bishop thoughtfully, "andonce killed a six pound trout on a six ounce rod, but now you're doingthe fishing, and so it goes. Do you expect to begin operations in thewoods next winter?"

"Yes. "

"Then I'll need some more missionaries. You're making a lot of workfor me, but I like it. "

His companion glanced up with sudden interest. They both liked work. It had been evident for an hour past in the prelate's keen questions. It occurred to Clark that the influence of his own passion for creationpromised to affect a large number of people. But he had never dreamedof missionaries, and now the thought amused him. 

"I see young Belding over there, " said the bishop as the engineerpassed with a transit over his shoulder. "Yes, my chief engineer. "

"A good chap and I'm glad he has the opening. I don't know that he'sgot much imagination, but a valuable man as I see him. I have anidea, " he added quizzically, "that you will supply all the imaginationthat is necessary. "

Clark laughed. "I hope to. "

"Had I not gone into the church I would have been a writer or anengineer, " said the bishop slowly. "They have always seemed kindredpursuits, and I should have liked to be able to point to somethingphysical and concrete and say 'I made it. '"

Clark was a little puzzled. He had it in mind that the bishop'sachievements would be, perhaps, more enduring than his own. He triedto put this into words. 

The big man shook his head. "I hope I am making my mark, but who cansay? You affect the color of men's lives and I try to reach thecomplexion of their spirits. " He paused for a moment, then added, "Butbetween us we ought to do something. Good-by, and I hope you'll cometo one of my garden parties. I hear you don't care for society, butyou'll like my strawberries, and in the meantime I trust that all willprosper. Even if St. Marys does not realize all this, does it matter?"

"Not in the slightest. "

The bishop strode off. A few paces away he halted. "I'm no Moslem butI'm very glad to meet Mahomet, " he called back; "good-by. "

In June the general manager, for as such Clark was now known, gave aluncheon at the works, which was to remain long in the mind of at leastone of the participants. By this time he himself was beginning towithdraw to that seclusion which added much to the fascination of hispersonality. When his guests arrived they were turned over to Beldingfor a tour of inspection, and then, filled with interest and surprise, sat down to the meal Clark had had prepared in the small marquee. Nowhe appeared himself, the genius of the place, and sat at the head ofthe table. 

Looking back at the curious relationship in which this man stood to thepeople of St. Marys, it seems that he liked them more than he cared toexpress, for the expression of any sentiment was strange to his lips. He could do much for them, and did it, while, at the same time, heasked nothing for himself. When not in action, Clark was particularlysilent, but when really in action he approached his subject withobvious joy and interest, and coupled with this was his naturalinstinct for impressive and dramatic situations. Something of this hadbeen recognized by Filmer and the others who came to lunch, so that, afterwards, when he threw out a hint, the only one on record, it metwith immediate attention. He was talking to Worden when his eye drewFilmer into the conversation. 

"I have been wondering whether any of you gentlemen have bought anyland?"

The effect was that of a stone thrown into a pool, and one could seethe ripples of interest spreading. But it was so unexpected that therefollowed a little silence, broken presently by a laugh from Filmer. 

"What land?"

Clark waved a casual hand north and east. "Any land over there. "

He got no immediate reply. The minds of his guests were traversing theflat fields in which cattle grazed, that lay between the rapids and thetown. 

"You have seen to-day something of what we propose to do, but only someof it, " he went on. "What's the present population of St. Marys?"

"About sixteen hundred, " said Filmer thoughtfully. 

"Well, gentlemen, assume that what you have seen is but the beginning, only the breaking of the ground. You may take it from me, you are safein that. The population of St. Marys, five years from to-day, shouldbe, --" here he paused for an impressive moment--"sixteen thousand, andin ten years, twenty-six thousand. Now where are those people going tolive? Mr. Manson, here, doesn't take me quite seriously, but you, Judge, can you answer me; or you, Mr. Filmer? A good deal of it willfall on your shoulders. "

"I don't doubt you, " answered the mayor, "but I can use all my money inmy business. "

"As for me, I'm a government official and haven't any, " added Worden, with a tinge of regret. 

"Money has been borrowed before this"--Clark's tones were distinctlyimpersonal--"the bank is good and so is the future of the town, as Isee it. "

"Why don't you buy some yourself?"

"I don't want any more money, " said Clark very simply, "but, gentlemen, I don't assume that every one feels that way. From this window I cansee farm lands that can be bought for forty dollars an acre on easyterms, and how would you feel if, after two or three years, it changedhands at a thousand? I merely mention this because I've seen it takeplace elsewhere. Now I'm not going to say that it's going to be wortha thousand, and I'm not persuading you. I never persuade any one, atleast, " he added with a little smile, "not in St. Marys. I only drawyour attention to the circumstances and leave the rest of it, ofcourse, to your own judgment. "

"Then you suggest that we buy?" came in Dibbott. 

"Nothing of the kind. It's a matter of indifference to me whether yougentlemen do the buying or some one else. All I can prophesy is, thatit's going to be done, but not by me or my associates. We have enoughto occupy our attention for some time to come. "

Manson edged a bit nearer. "The idea is that while you're investingmillions, we take no risk in investing hundreds, eh?"

"I made no such inference. You will remember that so far as St. Marysis concerned I have depended on the town for nothing since my firstproposal was accepted. "

Dibbott nodded. "That's right. I reckon we're going to be aresidential suburb to the works. "

Clark smiled a little. "I lean on just four things, and St. Maryssupplied none of them. "

"What are they?"

"Natural laws, physical geography, ample financial backing, and theneed of the world for certain manufactured products. And, " heconcluded quizzically, "you'd better forget that I said anything aboutland. "

There was something suggestively final about this, and presently thegroup moved off, loitering across the flat, untenanted fields. Mansonwas in the rear, decapitating daisies with his heavy oak stick. A fewminutes later Clark looked up and saw the chief constable's bulkfilling the doorway. He waited placidly. 

"Did you mean just what you said about that land?" Manson's voicesounded a little sheepish, "because I've got a bit saved up, and--"

"Mr. Manson, " struck in Clark, "you may approve of me personally, but Iknow that you don't believe in my project. You've been at no pains toconceal that and I respect you for it, but that being the case whyshould you, of all men, be interested in land? No, no, don't protest. I don't mind what you think and you've a perfect right to your ownopinion. What did I say about land? Did I advise you to buy?"

"No, but you evidently wondered why we didn't. "

Clark laughed outright. "I wonder at many things, that's my privilege, and anything I said just now is in contradiction to your judgment. Youstrike me as being a man of strong views, so by all means hold on tothem. "

But Manson's eyes were turned fixedly on the main chance and he couldnot look away. "Of course, I may be wrong, " he began awkwardly, "but--"

"And, of course, I may be too, and now you'll excuse me, I've a gooddeal to attend to. "

Very slowly the chief constable took his way to town. Like many whocame in contact with Clark he had conceived the impression of a strongand piercing intelligence that, while it gave out much, withheld more;and it was what he imagined was withheld that now piqued and stimulatedthe austerely masked project he had had in view ever since Clark'sdirectors had so breezily invaded his office months before. Mansonwas, in truth, an example of those who, externally impassive andunemotional, harbor at times a secret and consuming thought at variancewith all outward semblance, and, keeping this remotely hidden, feed itwith all the concentrated fire of an otherwise inactive imagination. That afternoon he quietly secured an option on a portion of the fieldsacross which he walked so stolidly, and, with this as a beginning, turned his thoughts to the acquisition of more and more land. Simultaneously his expressed views on the outcome of Clark's activitiesbecame more pessimistic than ever. 

Early that summer the streets of St. Marys were torn with trenches andthe glass fronts of the wooden stores trembled with the vibration ofblasting. The pipe lines followed exactly the route laid out by theblue prints Belding had long since deposited with the town council, andso well known was this route that the slightest variation would havebeen pounced upon instantly. Clark, it appeared, did not take muchinterest in the work, but turned it over entirely to the engineer, hisown imagination having moved to other things. 

New faces in the town ceased to create comment, and, what was more tothe point, mention of St. Marys began to appear in metropolitan papers. These were read with the peculiar thoroughness of those who, for thefirst time, found themselves of definite interest to the outside world. Simultaneously the air became full of prophecy, rambling and inchoate. The citizens had not yet come to regard developments as being in anyparticular their own. They had--for the best reasons--put no money in, but now began to profit by changed conditions. The works were still athing apart, a new and somewhat romantic area from which anything, however startling, might any day materialize. Sometimes a few Indianspaddled up to trade and, leaving Filmer's store, would slip silently upstream, and edging into the backwater at the foot of the rapids, laytheir paddles across the thwarts and stare silently at the greatstructures that began to arise. And this, in a way, was the attitudeof most of the folk of St. Marys. They were in it but not of it, andthe long somnolence of the past was too tranquil to be easilydispelled. But in spite of their indifference the masterful hand ofClark had set the town definitely on the industrial map. A littlelater, the water was turned on and rows and rows of electric lightsglittered down the streets. It was just about this time that Clarksummoned Belding and told him that he desired a house. 

This command was, in a way, so intimate that Belding looked foolish. "What kind of a house?" he said awkwardly. 

Clark leaned back in his chair. "You know how, years ago, the HudsonBay Company built block houses for their factors? Well, I want onesuch as the company used to build, and I expect to be ready to occupyit within six weeks. "

Belding had learned not to ask too many questions, so, for a momentthought hard. "Where?" he ventured. 

"You remember where the old Hudson Bay lock is, --just a hundred feetbeyond that. By the way, do you know how to build a block house?"

Belding got a little red. He had designed power houses and pulp millsand canals and head gates, but a block house baffled him. 

"In those days, " began Clark ruminatively, "they were places ofdefense. Two stories, the bottom one of stone so that the Indianscouldn't set fire to it. That part is eight feet high and hadloopholes. On top is the other story built of logs, and, by the way, Iwant my logs peeled and varnished, and with a pitched roof. That partoverhangs the other by about five feet all round, and that was to makeit possible to drop things on the Indians if they did get up to theloopholes. Got the idea? And, by the way, I want the Hudson Bay lockcleaned out and rebuilt just as it was before. No cement--but randommasonry and gates of hewn timber--they hewed everything a hundred yearsago--grass around it and a sign saying what it was and when. Fix it upand make a job of it--that's all, and make that block house basement offield stone--you can see why. "

Whereupon Clark turned to a pile of letters and telegrams and promptlyforgot all about Belding. 

In six weeks, to a day, he moved in, and it is a question whether anyof his subsequent achievements occasioned such interest in St. Marys. Old inhabitants were there who had memories of the Hudson Bay Companyand the thirty foot bark canoes that once voyaged from Lake Superior, and, treading the upper reaches of a branch of the rapids, slid intothe old lock and were let gingerly down while the crew held theirpaddles against the rough stone walls of the tiny but ancient chamber. 

Now the thing in its entirety had been recreated. The block house satsquat beside the lock, with its mushroom top projecting just as inyears before. Clark, it seemed, was, after all traditional, and notone who lived entirely in the future, and with this touch of romance hetook new attributes. His Japanese cook inhabited the lower storythrough which one entered to mount to the main floor. Inside the placerevealed the taste of the man of the world. It looked pigmy beside theenormous structures which began to rise hard by, but was all the morediminutively impressive. One passed it on the way to the works, andoften by night drifted out the sound of Clark's piano mingling with thedull boom of the rapids. For it would seem that these were the twovoices to which the brain of this extraordinary man took most heed. 

VI. --CONCERNING IRON, WOOD AND A GIRL

A year passed and the folk of St. Marys had not yet accustomedthemselves to drawing water from a tap and turning on the light with aswitch ere Clark began a frontal attack on the resources of the countryto the north. It was typical of his methods that he invariably usednew agencies by which to approach affairs which, in the main, differedfrom those already existing. Thus he called on many and widelyseparated individuals, who, answering his imperious summons, fellstraightway under the spell of his remarkable personality, and foundthemselves shortly in positions of increasing responsibility. Theybecame the heads of various activities, but, in a way, the secondaryheads, for Clark retained all kingship for himself. So it came that asmonths passed he was surrounded by a constantly increasing band ofactive and loyal retainers. 

Such was John Baudette, for whom Clark had sent to talk pulp wood, but, it is recorded, that Baudette's manner and bearing changed not at allwhen Clark stared at him across the big flat topped desk and remarkedevenly that he wanted pulp wood and was assured that there was an amplesupply within fifty miles. 

Baudette's hard blue eyes met the stare placidly. "Yes, there is pulpwood north of here. "

"I know it, because I've had some, " said Clark, "but I want fiftythousand cords next May and seventy-five thousand the year after. "

Baudette felt in a way more at home, but he had never contemplatedseventy-five thousand cords of wood. "Am I to go and take it?"

Clark laughed, then settled back with the shadow of a smile on hislips, and bent on the woodsman that swift inspection which discomfortedso many. It embarrassed Baudette not at all. He was rather small andof slight build, but he was constructed in the manner of a bundle ofsteel wire that enfolds a heart of inflexible determination. On casualinspection he did not appear to be a strong man, but his body was amass of tireless sinew. His eyes were of that cold, hard blue which isthe color of fortitude, his face clean shaven and rather thin; his jawslightly underhung, his lips narrow and tightly compressed. Indemeanor he was quiet and almost shy, but it was the quietness of onewho has spent his days in the open, and the shyness of a life which hasdealt with simple things in a simple but efficient way. The longerClark looked at him the more he liked this new discovery. Presently hebegan to talk. 

"I want a man to take charge of my forest department, and one who hasgot his experience at the expense of some one else. We need pulp woodin larger quantities than have been required in this country before. Next year we begin to grind wood that you will cut this winter. "

The little man neither moved nor took his eyes from Clark's face, andthe latter, with the faintest twitch of his lip, went on. 

"I'm satisfied that this wood exists in ample quantities and the restis up to you. You can have any reasonable salary you ask for. "

"Where are the timber limits?" Baudette said quietly. He was, apparently, uninterested in the matter of salary. 

Clark flattened out a big map of the district that obliterated thepiles of letters and telegrams. Baudette's eyes brightened. He lovedmaps, but never before had he seen one so minute and comprehensive. 

"That's compiled from all available surveys and records. It took threemonths to make it. I was getting ready for you. "

Baudette nodded. He was interested in how the thing was compiled, andhis eyes traced the birth and flow of rivers and the great sweep ofwell remembered lakes. Presently Clark's voice came in again. 

"Where's the best pulp wood? We've been getting it from everywhere. "

A lean brown forefinger slid slowly over the edge of the map. Clarknoted its delicacy and strength. It halted a moment at St. Marys, then, as though Baudette counted the miles, traversed the shore ofSuperior and turned into a great bay to the westward. At the belly ofthe bay the finger struck inland following a wide river, and halted ina triangle of land where the river forked. Baudette looked up andnodded. 

"Ah!" said Clark thoughtfully. "How much good wood is there?"

The forefinger commenced an irregular course during which it struckinto salients that followed up lesser and tributary streams. It hadenclosed perhaps five hundred square miles of Canadian territory whenit reached its starting point. 

"Four years' wood. " Baudette's voice was still impressive. 

The other man smiled as though in subdued mirth, and with a red penciloutlined the area. Following this his eyes rested contemplatively onthe lumberman who sat still focussed on the map. 

"Come back in two weeks, " he said suddenly. "Good morning. "

Baudette glanced at him, and went out so quietly that there was not thesound of a footstep. Clark's manner of speech and person had set himthinking as never before. Ten thousand cords of wood a year was theusual order of things, but of fifty thousand cords he had never dreamed. 

He had a new set of sensations which filled him with a novel confidencein his own powers. He was reacting, like all the others, to theintimate touch of a communicative confidence. He passed thoughtfullythrough the general office, noting as he closed the door that on abench near Clark's door sat Fisette, a French halfbreed whom he knew. He remarked also that Fisette's pockets were bulging, it seemed, withrocks. 

A moment later Fisette was summoned. He went in, treading lightly onthe balls of his feet, and leaning forward as though under a load on aportage. Clark's office always frightened him a little. The rumble ofthe adjoining power house, the great bulk of the buildings justoutside, the masses of documents, --all of this spoke of an externalpower that puzzled and, in a way, worried him. He halted suddenly infront of the desk. 

"Well?" said Clark, without offering him a seat, for Fisette was moreat ease when he stood. 

The half breed felt in his pockets. The other unrolled a duplicate ofthe map he had shown Baudette and held out his hand, in which Fisetteplaced some pieces of rock. 

At the weight and chill of them, Clark experienced a peculiar thrill, then, under a magnifying glass he examined each with extreme care, turning them so that the light fell fair on edge and fracture. Oneafter another he scrutinized, while the breed stood motionless. 

"Where do they come from?" he said shortly. 

The breed made a little noise in his throat, and his dark eyes restedluminously on the keen face. After a little he gathered the samplesand disposed them on the map, laying each in that corner of thewilderness from which it had been broken. He did this with thedeliberation of one who knew beyond all question. He had broughtmonths of hardship and exposure in his pocket. By swamp and hill, valley and lake and rapid he had journeyed alone in search of the gray, heavy, shiny rock of which Clark had, months before, given him afragment, with curt orders to seek the like. The small, angular pieceswere all arranged, and his chief stared at them with profoundgeological interest. Fisette did not move. He had looked forward tothis moment. 

"They're no good, " came the level voice, after a pause, "but you're inthe right country. Go back for another two months. You'll get it yet. It should be near this, " he picked up a sample. "Take what men youwant, or no, don't take any. I want you to do this yourself, and don'ttalk. Good morning. "

Fisette nodded dumbly. The moment had come and gone and he felt alittle paralyzed. 

"Here, have a cigar. "

He took one, such a cigar as he had never seen, large, dark and fatwith a golden band around its plump middle. He glanced at Clark, whoapparently had forgotten him, and went silently out. On the doorstephe paused, slid off the golden band and put it in his pocketbook, cupped a lighted match between his polished palms, took one longluxurious breath and started thoughtfully to town with worship anddetermination in his breast. 

Clark, from the office window, was looking down at his broad back in amoment of abstraction. At Fisette's departure he had suddenly plungedinto one of those moods so peculiar to his temperament. Beside thehalfbreed he seemed to perceive Stoughton, and with Baudette hediscerned the figure of Riggs, and so on till there were marshalledbefore him the whole battalion of those who were caught up in theonward march. He realized, without any hesitation, that shouldBaudette fail in his work, the magnificent bulk of the great pulp millwould be but a futile shell. And should the prospecting pick of thehalf-breed not uncover that which he sought, the entire enterprisewould lack its basic security. But it was characteristic of the manthat this vision brought with it no depression, but seemed rather topoint to ultimate success in the very blending of diverse elements thatstrove together towards the same end. 

Two weeks later, Baudette returned and looked questioningly at hischief. In very few words he explained that the fortnight had beenspent in the woods and that what he had said was correct. 

Clark listened silently. Here was a man to his liking. When thelumberman finished he again unrolled the big map, but this time insteadof the wavering red pencil line, there was the bold demarcation of amuch greater area, which Belding's draughtsman had plotted inprofessional style. In the middle of it was the territory Baudette hadpreviously indicated. 

"I thought we'd better be safe, and got this--from the Government. Goto the chief accountant in the outside office. Give him an estimate ofwhat money you need for the next six months--and get to work--Goodmorning. "

Baudette merely nodded and disappeared. There was too much in his mindto admit of expressing it, but, even had he felt conversational, therewas a finality about his dismissal that left no opening. He went awaycharged with a grim determination. Here was the chance he had beenwaiting for all his life. 

And Clark had, by this time, labelled Baudette as a valuable anddependable man. He forthwith forgot all about him, and went back tothe memory of Baudette's forefinger as it pushed its way up to theMagwa River. It flashed upon him that, in the course of a vehementlyactive life, he had built practically all things save one. At that hefell into a reverie which ended with the pressing of a button thatflashed a small red light on Belding's desk. A moment later he glancedkeenly at his chief engineer. 

"Belding, you have done railway work. What does a standard gauge roadcost in this country?"

"Where is the road to be built?" Belding displayed no surprise. Thetime for that had long passed, and, he silently concluded, thepresidency of a railroad would suit Clark admirably. 

"Up the Magwa River. "

"And the maximum grades?"

"Suitable for freight haulage to this point. We run with the water, "added Clark with one of his rare smiles, "you ought to know that. "

"About thirty thousand a mile, " answered Belding steadily, the troublebeing that when his chief's imagination took strong hold of him he wasapt to diverge from the point. 

"Then you will send out survey parties and get detailed estimates whenthe surveys are in. "

"How far is the road to run? The head waters of the Magwa are onehundred and fifty miles from its mouth. "

Clark's lips tightened a little. "As far as the pulp wood is good. Idon't care how far that is--and, Belding--"

"Yes, sir. "

"I have decided to double the size of the mill. Let me have plans andestimates for that too. "

Belding went on, his head swimming, and walked slowly toward the headgates through which Lake Superior flowed obediently to do Clark's will. It seemed now that his chief had reached the point where the god in themachine must make some grievous error. He was insatiable. Presentlytwo figures approached. One was Judge Worden, the other a girl. Theformer waved his stick. 

"We're going to see Mr. Clark. Elsie, this is Mr. Belding. "

The girl smiled and put out a slim hand. "I've heard all aboutyou--did you make all this?" Her brown eyes roved, taking in the greatsweep of rising structures. 

"In a way, yes, " he laughed, "that is I did what I was told. "

"Mr. Belding is chief engineer, " put in the judge assuringly. 

She nodded. "You told me. I--I think it's rather wonderful. Ifanything had to happen to the rapids, this is just right. "

Belding made no immediate answer. He was studying the girl's face, hersupple figure, and the intelligence that marked every expression. Itstruck him that she was meant to be some man's comrade. 

"I'm glad you like it, " he said a little awkwardly, "there's lots moreto come. "

The judge touched Elsie's arm. "That's what I want to hear about atthe block house, and I hope you'll have supper with us next Sunday, Mr. Belding. I hear you are too busy for a weekday diversion. "

Elsie smiled approval and they turned down the long embankment. 

Belding looked after them with a shade of resentment. She was, he haddecided, just like her photograph. In the distance he had seen Clarkwalking quickly towards his visitors. They met a hundred yards awayand Clark's eyes began to twinkle. 

"How do you do. I seem to know you quite well already. "

Elsie flushed. She had pictured Clark in her romantic brain, but thistrim figure resembled none of her expectations. 

"I'm very sorry, " he went on quickly, "that urgent business will keepme in the office all afternoon. I've just a few minutes. "

"Then we'll be off at once, " announced the judge. 

"Not at all, if there's anything here to interest you, the place isyours. "

Elsie glanced at him curiously. She was conscious both ofdisappointment and of a certain invitational thrill. His assurance wasnot just what she had looked for, but yet it stimulated her thought. He was very different from every one else. Decision marked him and aflash that was breathless seemed to reach her. Imagination lay in hisquick change of expression and in the depths of the gray eyes. Thiswas the man who dreamed great dreams. 

"The next time you are up this way I hope you and your friends willcome to the block house. " He was looking at her with evident interest. "You may not like it, but, I think you will, --it makes a background forthis"; he pointed to the works, "and I find it restful. I live quitealone except for a Japanese cook, and, " he added with a laugh, "he'spart of the background. "

Elsie accepted and, for an instant, caught Clark's full glance. In afraction of time there passed between them a swift and subconsciousexchange of understanding that subsided almost ere it was born. Thenhe took off his hat and hastened towards his office. 

For a little while she did not speak, for she was filled with theperception that between herself and this stranger lay something theyheld in common. Could it be imagination?

"What do you think of Mr. Belding?" asked the judge reflectively as hestepped round a shattered boulder. 

Elsie started. "Why do you ask?"

The judge's brows went up. "Why shouldn't I?"

The girl pulled herself together with an effort. "I was thinking ofsomething else when you spoke, --he seems very nice indeed. "

"He has a good salary, a good position and a good future, " hazarded thejudge. "I'm glad you like him. "

Later that evening, Belding turned homeward, his work finished, and, walking close to the shore, looked across the black river to the blazeof light at the works. On one side and low down he made out the glowfrom the block-house windows. He could imagine Clark at the piano. 

But his chief had deserted the piano and given himself up to a rarehour of retrospect. He was under no misapprehension with regard to St. Marys. The town was growing in jerky spurts, as the old inhabitantstook on new courage, or new blood came in from outside. Filmer, whowith the exception of Bowers and Belding, was closer to Clark than anyof the rest, enlarged his store, and new shops began to appear nearerthe rapids. Manson's premises were populated with an assortment fromthe small army of laborers at the works, and a new hotel was underconstruction. But, in the main, it was only by stress of businessdemands that any expansion was made. The strangers, who constantlyappeared on the streets, ceased to be a cause of curiosity, and thefolk of St. Marys left it to them to start new enterprises. 

As to Clark, himself, he began to be almost invisible to thetownspeople. There was nothing, after all, to bring him to town. Others came to him. And ever the call of the rapids grew louder andmore dominant in his active brain. Others slept when he was awake, andhis imagination, caught up in a tremendous belief in the future of thecountry, explored the horizon for new avenues and enterprises, whilethe conclusions of his prophetic mind filled him with unfailingconfidence. He had now achieved the ability to arrive intuitively atresults reached by others after long and arduous labor. This facultywas one of his outstanding gifts, no less than his mesmeric andcommunicative influence. 

VII. --THE BISHOP'S GARDEN PARTY--AND AFTERWARDS

Some three miles down the river from the blockhouse and on the eastside of St. Marys lived the bishop. Of him it might be said that, likeClark's, his reputation extended far beyond the boundaries of thisnorthern district. But between these two, so alike in their magneticqualities, lay a substantial difference. Clark expressed himself inlarge undertakings and great physical structures, while the bishopworked in the hearts of men. 

It was the custom of this most amiable prelate to give a garden partyonce a year, to which came most of the adult population of St. Marys. The house, a square gray stone block, lay at the edge of the bush andaround it was a spacious lawn from which one could saunter through thevegetable garden and into the stable, and on this lawn, his handsclasped behind his back, his head bent forward in thought, the bishopmight often be observed, a modern St. Francis, plunged in profoundthought. 

Now, looking contentedly at the groups around him, he concluded thatnever before had his party been so well attended. Dibbott and Filmerand Bowers were there with their wives, and young Belding with theWordens. The Presbyterian minister and the Catholic priest wereadmiring the strawberries, and Manson's deep voice came from a clusterof men nearby. Most of the ladies wore spotless white dresses thatcrackled as they moved. In the study the bishop's desk was obliteratedby dishes of strawberries and cream, and at the front gate the hiredman took charge of the buggies and tethered the horses to the longfence of the pasture field. Three hundred yards away the riversparkled in a clear, light blue. It was all very bright and animated. Presently the bishop caught the young engineer's eyes and beckoned. 

"Mr. Belding, " he said, smiling, "I'm aware that you're very muchoccupied just now with important things, but I've been wondering, justthe same, if you'd help me with something. "

"What is it, Bishop?"

"I want a pro-cathedral, which is, as you know, that which does insteadof a cathedral. Every summer the church here seems to get smaller, andI believe I could fill a bigger one. "

Belding laughed. He, like the rest, knew that the largest church inthe country could not hold those who flocked to hear this golden voice. 

"How much money is available?" he hazarded, "and have you any idea whatit is intended to spend. What about plans?"

"That's just it, we have no money and, of course, no plans, but, considering the amount of building material you use every day, itstruck me that there might be laid aside enough to construct what Iwant without causing any hardship. "

Belding hesitated, but so friendly was the look on the bishop's faceand so quizzical the glance of the large brown eyes that he feltimmediately prompted to build a pro-cathedral. He felt a hand on hisshoulder. 

"History has it that not so very long ago a certain young engineerexpressed that which was highest in his nature by building a cathedral. Think it over. " And with that the bishop turned to the Indian agentwho was moving mountainously across the lawn. 

"Well, Mr. Dibbott, it seems just the other day when I arrived first inSt. Marys and drove under a green arch at Mr. Filmer's dock and theentire population met me. One couldn't achieve that now. Great thingsare happening. "

"You mean up at the works, sir?"

"Yes. I went over them again last week and had a short talk with Mr. Clark--a very remarkable man--though, I confess that so far I have notobserved him at church. I touched on that as a matter of fact. "

Dibbott's pale blue eyes opened a little wider. "And what did he say?"

"He said that from his point of view the church was too divided withinitself to impress him very forcibly. "

"Ah!" grunted Dibbott--"and then?"

"I came back at him with the fact that the church was naturally dividedby the moods of its followers. "

"It's so, sir, we all know it. "

The bishop cast an interested glance over the groups that now coveredthe lawn. He seemed not in the least depressed at the inward troublesof the church. Presently his eyes began to twinkle. "It's perfectlytrue. There are three schools of thought, that I've observed myself. "

"What are they?" said Worden, who had silently come up. 

"Platitudinarian; latitudinarian; attitudinarian, " came the answer, with a chuckle, then, turning to Filmer, who had stepped over to hearthe joke, he added, "What do you think of my boat?" and pointed to aslim, black, two-masted steam-yacht that lay anchored just off theshore. 

It was common knowledge that the bishop had spent part of a winterabroad collecting funds, and it was further admitted that it wasimpossible for him to visit the multitude of islands that lay in hischarge without some independent means of transportation, but St. Maryswas not yet aware that the trick had been turned. 

"She means three months' work, " went on the bishop thoughtfully, butwithout a shade of self-satisfaction, "and the biggest subscription Igot was a hundred pounds. The smallest was from the owner of a largesteamship line. He gave me one of the Company's official prayerbooks--and I never before felt about the prayer book just as I didabout that one. I was begging mostly in England, and traveled aboutlike a sort of mitered mendicant, addressing missionary meetings. Itwas the elderly ladies who did it, bless 'em. Then I went down toCowes in the Isle of Wight and you see the result. There she is, solidoak and teak, a compound engine, twelve miles an hour, and good, Ithink, for any sea, no matter how tempestuous. I won't care now ifthere is no railway connection in half my diocese. "

The others smiled and Filmer stroked his bushy, black whiskers. "You're going to be a regular sybarite, " he ventured. 

"No, " chuckled the bishop, "an anchorite. " And with that sent his mindup stream to the rapids and the activity at the works. "I'm interestedto see how much has been done here in what is really so short a time, only two years. It all seems to me so magnificent in its scope, and, as for Mr. Clark, who is evidently the center of the thing, one cannotbut admire his incredible energy. I understand we have to thank ourmayor for a good deal of it. Don't you agree with me, Mr. Manson?"

The chief constable, whose bulk had drawn up beside the others, shookhis head gloomily. His face and manner were, in spite of hissurroundings, still austere. 

"No, sir, I don't admire Mr. Clark. "

"But why?"

"Because, as I see it, he is only squandering the money of people whomhe has hypnotized. He's got no balance, and the only thing he caresabout is to spend--spend--spend. "

Filmer smiled meaningly. The bishop glanced at him puzzled, thenturned to Manson. 

"Then you're not in any way impressed?"

"Not in the least. "

"Well, " came the deep, rich voice, "I must confess that I am, not onlyby what he spends but also by the undeniable fact that he has filled mychurch and your jail. Perhaps they go together, " he added with acontagious grin. 

Dibbott looked slightly shocked, but the bishop went on after aneloquent glance at Filmer. 

"I found much that was admirable up there. It's true that we don't seeeye to eye in certain things that appear all important to me, butperhaps also that was to be expected. Now will you excuse me a moment?I see two friends out by the roadside who haven't on their partyclothes. "

His gaitered legs struck off across the lawn and Filmer's glancefollowed the powerful figure as it halted at the fence beside twoIndians who waited irresolutely while their dark eyes explored theanimated scene. The bishop, seemingly forgetful of all else, enteredinto an earnest conversation, during which a copper colored palm washeld out to him, and in the palm the group could see something smalland round that gleamed softly in the late afternoon sun. At that thebishop shook his head gravely and the palm was withdrawn, when therefollowed more talk in lowered tones, after which he vaulted the fenceand came slowly back, his lips compressed and a quizzical smile on hisbig handsome face. He shot a look at the group but said nothing. 

"What is it, sir?" asked Dibbott. 

"Something that touches our conversation, curiously enough. Those twoIndians have just paddled up from the settlement to ask me to bless asilver bullet, and they are parishioners of mine too. "

"Why?" put in Manson abruptly. 

"They say the bullet is to kill a wolf who is haunting the neighborhoodand is possessed by a spirit of a bad man who died there only recently. He apparently has an insatiable appetite for Indian children, though nodamage has been done as yet. It must have been a Unitarian spiritsince he is evidently a one idea wolf, " he pursued with a provocativegrimace at the stolid Manson who was of that persuasion. 

The others roared, but Manson, without a smile, held his ground. 

"Why a bullet that has been blessed?"

"They assure me it is the only kind that can kill an animal inhabitedby a spirit. " The bishop's hand stole up to his jaw, in a favoritegesture. "Our conversation suggested the matter of Mr. Clark. "

Filmer and the rest racked their brains in vain, then pleaded for light. 

"Well, " went on the deep voice, "these Indians profess the Christianfaith, yet they get into their bark canoes and paddle twelve milesagainst the wind and up stream with a petition that I do something thatis dead against that faith, I mean the blessing of a bullet to arm itwith supernatural power. Our friend, Mr. Clark, on the other hand, does not, so far as I know, profess any faith at all, though I shouldundoubtedly be asked to bury him should such a thing be unfortunatelynecessary, yet he does many things that I consider admirable withoutasking any blessing or unction or special recognition of any kind. Icannot see him, for instance, as a man who would use his friends forhis own advantage or their money for his personal profit. In fact, " hehesitated a little and then continued with that utter candor whichcharacterized his entire life--"what I hope for our church is that itmay so present its message and carry out its mission that it willultimately attract just the type of notable men as the one of which wespeak. And now, since this begins to border on a theologicaldiscussion, let us have some strawberries and cream. They are my ownberries, and the cream, Mr. Filmer, is the product of that excellentyearling you were kind enough to send me last summer. "

They moved into the study and were presently joined by Mrs. Dibbott andMrs. Worden. 

"We have seen the yacht, " said the latter enthusiastically, "and she islovely, but how do you pronounce her name?"

The Bishop's eyes twinkled--"Just now it's Z-e-n-o-b-i-a, but that'sthe name of a heathen queen and I don't believe the Synod would standfor it. Can you ladies suggest something more suitable? You know whather work will be. "

Mrs. Dibbott thought hard, and Mrs. Worden's gray eyes grew soft. Admirable women were these, staunch and loyal, the helpmates of menthrough lonely years that had passed in St. Marys. But too often themen did not realize this till the shadows lengthened. 

"She'll be a messenger, won't she?" said Mrs. Worden. 

"Of hope and comfort, if I can make her so, " he answered gently. "Ican regularly reach places now that it was very hard to get at before. "

There fell a little silence, while, to the rest came the picture ofthis wise man and true, cruising in storm and sunshine through themyriad islands of his diocese, with his good cheer and hisunderstanding heart and his great tenderness for all living beings. 

"May I make you a flag?" said Mrs. Dibbott presently. 

"Splendid, I haven't one. You might put on my crest. It's an Irishone with a complete menagerie of animals. "

"And some of the rest of us will provide the linen, " added Mrs. Worden, who was a famous housekeeper. 

"My dear ladies, your sex is really the backbone of ours and not themissing rib, " said the bishop who, when he was genuinely touched, oftenrelapsed into his native humor. "But what shall we call the boat? Ican't go on missionary voyages with an Indian pilot and a Scotchengineer in a slim, black, piratical looking vessel that flies the nameof a heathen queen. Even my gaiters wouldn't save me from beingmisunderstood. "

"Would the name 'Evangeline' do?" asked a gentle voice as Mrs. Manson, who had been listening intently, moved a little closer. She breathedthe word very softly and her large expressive eyes shot an uncertainglance at the broad back of her husband who stood just out of hearing. 

"Evangeline!" The bishop had a sudden thrill in his tones. "Evangeline she shall be, and may I prove worthy of my vessel. "

A little later the three ladies went together and rather silently downthe plank walk that led from the See House to the main road. Theireyes were on the tapering spars of the yacht that floated so gracefullya few hundred yards away. 

"I wonder, " said Mrs. Dibbott pensively, "if we really appreciate him. "

"Meaning the Bishop?" demanded Mrs. Worden. 

"Yes. He's a much bigger man than we realize, and he certainly gave upa great deal to come here. "

"The most eloquent preacher in Canada, isn't he, but after all, could asmaller man do his work?"

"Perhaps, in a sort of way, but, of course, not half as well. I think, too, that we have to remember he left the places where he met those ofhis own kind, and he must miss that. "

"But he loves his work. "

"Only some of it, " put in Mrs. Manson. "I heard him say so. He toldme he hated begging, and we all know he has to raise the money to runthe diocese as well as spend it. "

Mrs. Dibbott shook her head. "A bishop shouldn't have to beg, it'slowering. Don't you think so?"

"It would be to some, " said the little woman thoughtfully, "but itcouldn't lower our bishop. As for being isolated, of course he is, butso are the rest of us, and I shouldn't be surprised if it's the out ofthe way places that need the best men, and--goodness! here's Mr. Clark. "

Three pairs of very keen eyes fixed on a neat, rather thickset figurethat came rapidly toward them. It was but seldom now that Clark wasseen in town, and this invested him with more suggestiveness than ever. He stepped off the sidewalk with a somewhat formal salute as theypassed. Knowing that he would not pause, Mrs. Dibbott turned andlooked after him with a long satisfying stare. 

"Not a bit interested in us, " she remarked acidly. 

"Nor in any woman, I hear, " added Mrs. Worden. "There's no room forthem in his life. I mean in an emotional way. "

"How perfectly fascinating. I'd love to know him. "

The brisk steps behind them halted at the gate where the bishop wassaying good-by to his last guest. 

"I'm late, I'll not stay, " said Clark apologetically. 

"That's all the better for a chat. You're looking well. "

"I have to be well, Bishop, for my work, and you?"

"Perhaps it's the same in a rather less dramatic field. "

For a while the two walked with the mutual liking which able menexperience for each other when neither is animated by the desire forpersonal gain. In truth, the attraction was understandable. Thebishop responded easily to his guest's magnetic presence, and perceivedin him the focal power that energized each one of his successiveundertakings, while to Clark came the strength and benignity of thebishop's high and blameless spirit. They were doing each other good, and each silently acknowledged it. 

"You are accomplishing great things up at the rapids, Mr. Clark, " saidthe bishop presently. "I was very much impressed by what I saw lastweek. "

Clark nodded contentedly. "We're really only at the beginning of it, and the country about here has been only scratched so far. We're onthe doorstep, so to speak. "

"Then developments should increase?"

"In ten years St. Marys will be the center of great and widespreadactivities. The district can and will yield a greater variety ofnatural products than has been imagined. "

"You feel this?"

"I know it. "

The conviction in his voice was so impressive that the bishop paused. "Well, Mr. Clark, " he said after a moment, "like others I must thankyou for having made a remarkable improvement in our physical comfort. Even my friend Fisette down there, "--he pointed to the halfbreed'scabin that lay between the See House and the river--"even my friendFisette has electric light in his house. "

"Ah! Is that where Fisette lives?"

"You know him?"

"He works for me. "

"Then he's like most of my friends in St. Marys. The pulp mills aredoing well?"

"Their capacity will shortly be doubled. "

The bishop nodded and scanned the keen face with renewed interest. "Ihave heard it stated that the measure of a country's industrialprogress depends largely on the degree to which it produces steel andiron. Now I'm no student of economics, but the assertion seemsreasonable. Your countrymen across Lake Superior have, I know, enormous deposits, and of course there's not a question as to theirindustrial progress, but so far as I have ascertained there are none inthis region. I assume that you have considered the matter and I wouldbe interested to know your opinion. "

"I have reason to believe, " answered Clark, staring fixedly atFisette's vine-grown cabin, "that large deposits do exist within areasonable distance of St. Marys. You will understand, of course, thatthis is not an official statement, and I would be obliged if you wouldnot repeat it. I offer it, " he added with a glance of calm sincerity, "to reinforce my undertakings in your eyes. Your economic contentionis perfectly sound. "

"I'm very glad to hear it, and you need no justification and need haveno qualms. In fact, " here the bishop spoke slowly while his brown eyeslooked straight into the keen, gray orbs of his visitor, "you came uphere and did what you have done because you had to. Isn't that it?"

"Yes, " said Clark simply, "I had to. "

"Believe me, I quite understand. Now I wonder if you will understandwhen I say how happy I would be to see you sometimes at church. Itwould help me, and you too, and, I think, others as well. "

"I understand perfectly, " Clark replied gravely and in the mostfriendly tones possible, "but my entire mind and intelligence areintensely preoccupied. You will appreciate too that my imaginationplays no small part in my work. Every intellectual process and everymoment are demanded of me. "

"What I refer to is neither mental nor imaginative, it is spiritual, "said the bishop gently. 

"I am afraid that I am principally conscious of the works, for thepresent at any rate. "

The bishop sighed inaudibly, then the visitor felt a hand on his arm. "The wisest of all men once said that 'by their works ye shall knowthem. ' What better can I say to you?"

They parted a moment later, and Clark moved slowly down the plank walk. He was apparently deep in thought. Opposite Fisette's cabin he haltedas though to go in, but turned homeward. That night he stood long atthe blockhouse window, listening to the boom of the rapids and staringat the mass of buildings of his own creation. They were alive withlight and throbbing with energy. Below the power house the white waterraced away from the turbines and down the tail race, like a livingthing, to lose itself in the placid bosom of the river. Still furtheron rose the uneven outlines of still greater structures as yetunfinished, and the earth seemed, in the cool air, to be baring herancient bones to his drills and dynamite. Still staring, he rememberedthe bishop's words and a strange thrill crept through him. These werehis works, and how should he be known?

That night, too, there stood at another window another man who couldjust see the gleam of the rapids in the moonlight. Their softenedvoice came to him in stillness, and far across the water glinted thetrembling reflection of electric light at the works. Slowly into hisbrain the dull vibration wove itself like the low murmur of invisiblemultitudes. Whatever might be his own effort or labor, this stillreached him so often as he listened, as though it were a confused andunending appeal for help that would not be silenced. It was alwaysthere, compelling and well nigh immortal, and the persistent echo hadlong since entered into his heart where it stirred pitifully day andnight. The bishop dropped on his knees and prayed that he might bemade worthy for his work. 

There were two others to whom the voice of the rapids came clearly thatnight as they sat on the edge of the judge's lawn. Belding was verymuch in love. Months ago he perceived that Elsie was designed to besome man's comrade, and for months he had been constantly aware of anoval face and dark brown eyes. He saw them whenever he peered throughan instrument. But the only sign Elsie had given him was thespontaneous kinship of youth with youth. 

At the garden party there was little opportunity for talk and he hadeagerly accepted the judge's suggestion to spend the evening with them. Now Elsie was beside him at the water's edge. 

"I was up at the works again, with father, the other day. Aren't theywonderful?" she said, after a long pause. 

"Perhaps--I don't often think of them that way, though. "

"What a difference in two years!"

"I suppose so. " Belding was tired and he didn't want to talk shop. 

"I met Mr. Clark again, and he was charming. "

"Was he?"

She laughed. "I gathered from you at the garden party that he was awoman hater. "

"Did I say that?"

"Not exactly, but that he didn't care for women, he was too busy. "

"He never mentioned one to me, except his mother. "

"I can understand that, " said Elsie very thoughtfully. 

Belding felt a little restless. "You seem very interested. "

"I am. I never met any one like him. He seems to be two men, orseveral all rolled into one. You admire him, don't you?"

"Yes, tremendously, but he scares me a bit sometimes. "

"Why?"

"I have wretched moments in which it seems that he is riding for afall. Things are going so fast, too fast sometimes--and besides, I'mtired. "

She glanced at him swiftly, but in the glance he caught nothing of whathe sought. 

"If you're tired, " she said slowly, "what about Mr. Clark? He'scarrying the whole thing, isn't he, as well as creating it? Is thathis piano in the blockhouse?"

The young man nodded. 

"What does he play?"

"Nothing that I remember; he improvises. It rests him, I suppose. "

"Has he many friends?"

"I don't know that he wants many. "

"Then he sits there alone in the evenings and plays to himself, --Iwonder if it really is to himself? Don't you believe that somewherethere must be some one he is playing to, and that it's for some onehe's doing all that's going on?" Elsie spoke a little breathlessly andher eyes were luminous. "How old is he?"

"Perhaps between thirty-five and forty, I never asked--one doesn't askhim that sort of thing. He never struck me as being of any particularage. "

"But you're going to follow him always, aren't you, and help to see himthrough? He's following something too. "

"What's that?" said Belding a little stiffly. 

"His star. " The girl's voice was very soft. "Perhaps he'll neverreach it, but that doesn't matter, if he follows it. "

"Mr. Clark would differ with you there. "

"Would he, I don't know. Perhaps I understand him better than you do. "

Belding got up in swift discomfort. "It looks as if you did. "

Her lips curved into a smile. "Don't go yet. Doesn't it seem asthough all this were meant to be from the beginning, and isn't Mr. Clark in the grip of something bigger than himself?"

"It's pretty big if he is. "

"I know, but isn't he a prophet in the wilderness, the wilderness ofAlgoma, and he hasn't much honor except what a few of us give him?"

Belding looked at her strangely. This was a new Elsie, who seemedwistful--yet not for him. Her eyes were cloudy with thought and he hada curious sensation that he was at this moment far from herimagination. She turned to him. 

"Take me out in your canoe, now. "

He felt suddenly and inexpressibly happy. "Come along. "

She leaned back against the cushions while Belding dipped a practicedblade in the unruffled stream. The night was clear and the sky studdedwith innumerable stars. 

"Where to?" he said contentedly. 

She waved a slim hand towards the rapids. "As near as you can, thenround into the big bay. "

He put his back into his work and the canoe shot forward, reachingpresently those long foam-flecked swells that mark the foot of theturmoil. In ten minutes they were in the heel of the rapids and as faras Belding dared go with so precious a burden. Elsie felt the coldspray on her face and her eyes shone with delight. After a little shepointed northward and the canoe edged into the big bay that stretchedbelow, the works. 

The bulk of the pulp mill loomed darkly into the quiet air, and furtherup they could hear the rattle of machine drills hammering into thegreat sandstone ledges. Passing the pigmy lock of the old Hudson BayCompany, they floated a hundred yards from shore and immediatelyopposite the blockhouse. Here Elsie lifted her hand, and Belding, witha queer feeling of resentment, backed water. 

The upper part of the house was softly lighted and the windows wereopen. Its gabled roof seemed diminutive compared to the structureswhich were taking shape close by and, as they looked, there drifted outthe sound of a piano. Clark himself was invisible, but his finger tipswere talking to the glistening keys. Elsie listened breathlessly. This was the man within the man who now sat plunged in profoundmeditation. 

Presently the music ceased and Clark's figure appeared at the window. He was staring at the rapids, and it seemed that as he stared he set upsome mysterious communication that linked his own force anddetermination with their irresistible sweep. 

On the way back Elsie was very silent and it came upon Belding withdull insistency that whatever attraction he had hoped to have for thegirl had been merged in the fact that, for the present at any rate, hewas nothing more than a means of satisfying her sudden and, to him, fantastical interest in the man under whose dominant bidding the colorof so many lives was being modified and blended. 

VIII. --IRON

A year later a prospector was slowly pushing his way through thewilderness some seventy miles northward of St. Marys. It wasspringtime and the air was mild, but, while the ridges were alreadybare, great banks of snow still lay in the deep folds of the hillswhere the sun but touched them at noon hour. The endless lacework ofnaked branches now began to be feathered with tender green, andeverywhere the bush was alive with the voices of wild things whoseblood was stirred to mating by the soft caresses of the southerly wind. Thrusting through a patch of tangled undergrowth, the man reachedhigher ground and, advancing to a hillock, stood with his hat off andhis brown face steaming with sweat. 

He was of middle age, with short, sturdy frame, a broad face of pale, copper color, swarthy black brows and a small, stringy mustache. Hisfeet were enclosed in shoepacks, soggy with water, and he was otherwiseclad in the nondescript fashion of old bushmen. Around his shoulderswere strung a compass, binoculars and map case, and at his belt dangleda small ax and a prospector's hammer pick. He was torn, scratched, andin a general way disheveled, but the clear glance of the black eyes andthe easy grace of his pose proclaimed him fit for action. 

He stood for some time while his keen glance searched the countryahead--a frozen sea in which congealed billows of rock thrust up theirtumbled heads in a gigantic confusion. Here and there were moredefinite ridges that took a general trend, but for the most part it wasa chaos of rock and timber, slope and swamp, the refuse from theconstruction of a more attractive country which had been assembledelsewhere. 

Presently Fisette took out his compass, balanced it in the palm of hissinewy hand and glanced at the needle. As he glanced, this filament ofsoft iron began to tremble and swing. He stood fascinated. Slowly atfirst, but gradually with more active and jerky motions, the thingbecame possessed. It vibrated as though in doubt, then moved off incontinued restlessness. Not by any means could Fisette end thesevagaries. After a little, a slow light grew in his eyes, his strongface broadened into a smile and, snapping back the compass lid, hestrode down hill. 

A quarter of an hour later he was chipping the edges of a ridge ofblackish-gray rock from which he had stripped great rolls of damp, green moss. The rock lay exposed and glistening, its polished surfacescarred with the scratches of hard stones that once lay embedded in thefeet of prehistoric glaciers, but Fisette, screwing his bushy browsover a tiny magnifying glass and peering at the sparkling fragments inhis palm and balancing their weight, cared nothing for glaciers. Heonly knew he had found that which he had been seeking for more than ayear. 

There is no measuring device for joy, and no foot-rule one can lay onemotion, but it is questionable if to the heart of any man comesgreater lightness than to that of the one who by stress and endurancein the wilderness, upturns the treasure he has so arduously sought. These moments are few and rapt and precious, and they glowed in theslow brain of the half-breed Fisette as nothing else had ever glowed. It was true that he stood to do well and earn independence out of thisdiscovery, but he was conscious at the instant of a reward greater thanease and comfort and money to spend. He had backed himself, single-handed, against the wilderness, and he had won. Again heunrolled from a strip of caribou skin the fragment of ore Clark hadgiven him--the fragment he was to match--and laid it amongst the freshchippings at his feet. Only by size and shape could he distinguish it. 

Now it may be assumed that Fisette forthwith threw his tattered hatinto the air and gave way to noisy manifestations of joy. He didnothing of the kind, for in his hairy breast were combined thepractical side of his French father and the noiseless secrecy of anIndian mother. There was much to be done, and he went about it withvoiceless determination. First of all he blazed a jack pine whoseknotted roots grasped nakedly at the ridge, and marked it boldly withhis name and the number of his prospecting license and the date, whichlatter, he remembered contentedly, was the birthday of his youngestchild. 

This accomplished, he disappeared in the bush and two hours laterreappeared bending forward under a pack strap whose broad centerstrained against his swarthy forehead. And in the pack were a smallshed tent and his camping outfit. Making a tiny, smokeless fire of drywood, he cooked and ate, stopping now and again to listen intently. But all he heard was the chuckle of a hidden spring and the insolentfamiliarity of a blue jay, which, perched in a branch immediatelyabove, eyed the prospector's frying pan with a bright inquiring gaze. 

By noon of the second day Fisette had blazed the enclosing boundariesof three claims, along the middle of which for three quarters of a milehe had traced the ridge of ore, and when corner posts were in, heshouldered his pack and, stepping quietly to the river where his canoewas hidden three miles away, began his homeward journey. He paddledeasily, squatting in the middle like his ancestors, and feeling a newpleasure in the steady pressure of his noiseless blade. He did notexperience any particular sense of triumph, but when, six hoursafterward, he saw the glint of Lake Superior around a bend in the riverhe laughed softly to himself. 

IX. --CONCERNING THE APPREHENSION OF CLARK'S DIRECTORS

Move now to Philadelphia, long since linked with St. Marys by a privatewire, at either end of which sat the confidential operators of theCompany. The seed sown by Clark a few years ago had flourishedamazingly. Instead of the austerity of Wimperley's office there wasnow the quiet magnificence of the Consolidated Company's financialheadquarters, tenanted by a small battalion of clerks and officials. These were the metropolitan evidence of the remote activities in St. Marys. 

To thousands of Pennsylvanians this office was a focal point of extremeinterest. From it emanated announcements of work by which they werevitally affected, for Clark had come to Philadelphia at thepsychological moment and cast his influence on those who wereaccredited leaders in the community. He had said that millions waitedinvestment and he was right, for once Wimperley, Stoughton and Riggshad satisfied themselves as to the project and announced their support, money began to come in, at first in a slow trickle, but soon in asteadily increasing flood. 

It was recognized that time was required to bring to fruition thevarious undertakings so rapidly conceived, and Clark's shareholders hadin them a certain stolid deliberation, aided, perhaps, by a strain ofDutch ancestry. This kept money moving in a steady stream and in thedesired direction. From Philadelphia the attraction spread to outsidepoints. It was noticeable that, with the exception of Pennsylvania, other States did not evidence any appreciable interest. The thing wasa Philadelphia enterprise, and to this city from neighboring villagescame a growing demand for stock. 

Four years before this, St. Marys was practically unknown inPhiladelphia, but now at thousands of breakfast tables the morningpapers were hurriedly turned over in search of the closing quotation ofClark's various companies. These began to increase in number, andthere commenced that gigantic pyramid in which the various stories wereinterdependent and dovetailed with all the art of the financial expert. Daily, it might be said, the interest grew, until it seemed that thepotent voice of the rapids had leaped the intervening leagues and itsdull vibrations were booming in the ears of thousands. 

Moving in the procession was one whose training did not permit ofwholesale surrender to the cause. Wimperley was a railway man and had, in consequence, a keen eye for results. His normal condition of mindwas one in which he balanced operating costs against traffic returnsand analyzed the results. And Wimperley was getting anxious. Theprofits from the pulp mill, for there were profits, had gone straightinto other undertakings, and the god of construction who reigned at St. Marys demanded still further offerings. This was why Wimperley hadpersuaded Birch, one of the keenest and most cold blooded financial menin the city, to come on the board. Birch, he reckoned, would be thenecessary balance-wheel, and it was safe betting that he would notyield to the mesmeric influence of the man in St. Marys. Now Stoughtonand Riggs and Birch had met him in the Consolidated office, and througha pale, gray haze of cigar smoke Wimperley spoke that which was in hismind. 

"The thing is going too fast, " he concluded. "My God! How much moneyhas that man spent?"

Birch fingered a straggling gray beard. He was a tall man, lean andsilent, with a tight mouth, sallow cheeks and cold eyes. It was saidhe had never been caught napping, and his was one of those fortuneswhich are acquired in secrecy. He was neither companionable normagnetic but he was obviously shrewd and astute and created a sense ofconfidence which, though chilling, was none the less reassuring. Birch, like the rest, had met Clark, but now he put the vision of thoseremarkable eyes out of his head. 

"Seven millions and a half up to last Saturday. "

Stoughton made a thick little noise in his throat. He knew it wassomething over seven millions, but the figures sounded differently asBirch gave them. Then Wimperley's voice came in. 

"Had a letter yesterday, Clark wants to build a railway. "

"Why?" squeaked Riggs. 

"To bring down pulp wood from new areas which are not on the river. Hewants to open up the country generally--says it is full of naturalresources. "

"Is there any dividend in sight?" demanded Stoughton bluntly. 

Followed a little silence and the long thin fingers of Birch began anintermittent tap on the polished table. Presently Wimperley glanced upand smiled dryly. He had not known that Birch understood the Morsecode. "Birch has told you, " he said. 

Stoughton and the rest looked puzzled. 

"We can't pay a dividend if we let Clark build this railway. "

"Then why build it?"

"Clark claims it is necessary to secure a dependable supply of sprucefor the pulp mills, and hard wood for the veneer works. He reckons itwill cost two million, and says the Government will help--but perhapsthey won't. " He broke off, rather red in the face. 

"Do any of you fellows remember Marsham?" put in Birch quietly. 

Stoughton looked up. "Only too well, what about him?"

"Well, you know he's been gunning for me for years since that Alabamascrap in which he got knocked out. Now he's gunning for all of us. "

"Why?" demanded Wimperley. 

"Because I have the present privilege of being associated with you. Ihad it privately from perfectly reliable sources. Marsham's lookingfor a hole in the Consolidated, and if he finds one he's going to getbusy and you know what that means. So far we're all right becausewe've got the Dutch farmer behind us and his money is coming in, in agood steady trickle. It's our job to keep it trickling till we get outof the woods into which our prophet has led us. "

Wimperley nodded gravely. "That sounds good to me. But I've gotsomething else in my mind. "

"Well, " snapped Birch, "spit it out. "

"I've got to go back a bit to a day you'll all remember, except you, Birch. "

"The day of hypnosis?" suggested Stoughton. 

"I guess it was, if you like to put it that way. We were satisfiedwith what Clark told us and what we afterwards saw for ourselves, andwe found him three millions, then another and another and so on. Now, as it stands and as it goes, I don't see any end to this thing. It'slike throwing money into the rapids at St. Marys--a fresh sweep ofwater comes and carries it away. You see it glint for a moment andthere's apparently no bottom to the river. The trouble with Clark isthat he is not equipped with brakes. He can't stop. He's always theroof on one station and, at the same time, contracting for another onestill further on. We've got to do the braking, that's all. " He turnedto Riggs, "How about it?"

"Well, " said the little man out of the corner of his mouth. "It's ourfuneral just as much as Clark's. Why didn't we apply the brakes longago?"

"You know as well as I do. "

"I'm damned if I do. "

"It's just because we're better business men in Philadelphia than weare when we get to St. Marys, " grunted Stoughton reflectively. "We'reoutside the charmed circle down here, but when we get up there, " hewaved his hand, while the end of his cigar glowed like a miniaturevolcano, "we get locoed, the whole bunch of us. "

"And yet, " said Birch reflectively, "there's nothing the matter. "

Wimperley leaned forward. "Go on. "

"It's simple enough, we're not using Clark properly. "

"Isn't seven millions proper?" boomed Stoughton. 

"You don't get me, " Birch spoke in a thin dry voice totally devoid ofany emphasis. "The proper use of a man like that is the purpose forwhich nature designed him. He's an originator--but not an executive. Dividends don't interest him half as much as the foundations of a newmill. "

Wimperley shook his head. "That may be all right, but from my point ofview he has become dangerous. He surmounts our resolutions, the oneswe make when our pulse is normal. I have never seen him fail to carryhis point. Take the matter of this railway. I don't mind betting thatif we go up there to-morrow to kill that road we'll be committed to itin twenty-four hours. "

"I'll take that for a thousand. " There was a spot of faint color inBirch's hollow cheeks. 

Wimperley laughed. "I'm on. What about lunch and finish thisafterwards?"

But Stoughton sat tight. "You'll go too far. Suppose that Clark getson his ear and tells us to run the thing in our own way, and that he'llget out. As I see it, he holds the works together and represents theworks in the mind of every one who knows him. "

"Well, what if he does drop out? There's no living man who can't bereplaced. "

"Except one called Robert Fisher Clark. As a first consequence ourstocks drop on the Philadelphia exchange like a wet sponge. You canimagine the rest---you all know enough about the market, and, by theway, does any one happen to remember the various things we havepublicly said about that same individual?"

This was food for thought. Wimperley, dismissing the idea of lunch, sat down. The group became universally reflective, and for a littlewhile no one spoke. Stoughton threw away his cigar, rested his chin onhis hand and stared at the model of the pulp mill on Wimperley's desk. Wimperley's eyes wandered to the big map and again he saw Clark'sfinger sliding over its glazed surface. Riggs twisted his handkerchiefwith a puzzled look in his bright eyes, and Birch leaned back, stretching his long legs, while his tremulous lids began to flicker andhis lips moved inaudibly. To each man there seemed to come the rumbleof the mills, the wet grind of the huge stones against the snowybillets of spruce, and behind it all the deep tones of the rapids. Presently the voicelessness of Birch found speech. 

"As I said there's nothing to worry about--yet. Two of us might go upnext week. I'll be one, if you like--and put the brakes on--but not sothat he'll feel them. If we only get out of the coach and take thedriver's seat the thing will be all right. Trouble is we've sat toolong inside and wondered where we were. Wimperley is right. And don'tforget that Clark has something at stake too. "

It was all so even and sane that it acted like oil on troubled waters. Stoughton jumped up, remarking that now he could eat, while Riggs, remembering that six per cent. On seven millions of issued bonds wasfour hundred and twenty thousand, stared at Birch and marveled how hecould have managed to put it away in the face of such expenditure. Just as he was reaching for his hat, the door opened and a telegram wasbrought in. Wimperley took it carelessly. He was too full of reliefto be interested in anything else and experienced a gratified glow inthat he had spoken what was in his mind and been upheld. Then, glancing at the telegram, his face changed and he felt his templesredden. The message was from Clark, who now asked that seriousconsideration be given to the building of blast furnaces at St. Marys. He stood for a moment while the others glanced at him curiously. 

"What about that?" he jerked out, and gave the yellow sheet to Birch. 

Birch read it aloud slowly, and, after an impressive pause read itagain and still more slowly, the pink spots on his cheeks becomingbrighter, his hard dry tones still more cold and mechanical. When helooked up Stoughton had turned his back and, with shoulders up, wasstaring out of the window. Riggs was red and flustered. After amoment the little man found breath. 

"He's crazy, that's all. "

"Well, Wimperley?" Birch had not moved. 

"This is the last straw. It's a case of our getting rid of him beforehe gets rid of us, or the shareholders do. "

Birch turned to the window. "Well, what about it?"

Stoughton hunched his shoulders still higher. "Fire him, " he saidstolidly, then puffed his cheeks and breathed on the widow pane. Inthe fog he wrote "Fire him" with his forefinger, taking particular careto make it legible with neatly formed letters. The next moment bothfog and words evaporated. It flashed into Stoughton's mind that theyhad not lasted long. He swung round, "It's the only thing to do, but Idon't want the job. You can have it, Birch. "

The lean face changed not a whit. "I take my end of it. If I don't, Marsham will. "

"Look here, this isn't a one man job. " Wimperley's voice had barelyregained its steadiness. "This message settles, as I take it, ourviews of Clark. God knows we don't question anything but hissuitability for his position at the present stage of affairs. He's gotto be told the inevitable and we've all got to go up. There's no otherway out of it. We'll give him one or two of the smaller companies torun and the public needn't know anything about it. I remember thepoint you made, Stoughton. It's a good one and we've got to look outfor it. "

But Stoughton did not move. "I'll be damned, " he said softly, stillstaring at the roof lines of Philadelphia. "Blast furnaces!"

"You will, if you don't come up with us, " replied Birch acidly. 

"I suppose I will. When do we go?"

"Will a week from to-day suit?"

They all made it suit. After a contemplative moment Riggs asked:

"Will you let him know, Wimperley, and just what do you propose to say?You'll remember there have been other times when we contemplatedputting the brakes on, but we all got galvanized and the thing didn'twork. "

"I'd merely say that we four are coming up--that's all. "

Stoughton grinned a formidable grin in which there was a show of teethand an outthrust jaw. 

"That's enough, he'll know. "

They went off together, but rather silently, to lunch. On the way tothe street Stoughton asserted several times aloud, and with completeconviction, that he would be damned, while the rest began to experiencea carefully concealed regret for the victim of their mission. At theclub they sat aimlessly and played with their food, conscious that theywere observed and known by all as the insiders in one of Philadelphia'slargest investments. Then, too, they learned that that morning thestock of the Consolidated companies had leaped forward in one of thoseunexpected boosts for which it was noted. Wimperley and the rest ofthem had never gambled in it, but time and time again it moved asthough animated by the spread of secret and definite information. Justas they were about to rise Birch leaned forward and began to arrangepepper pots and salt cellars in a semi-symmetrical design. 

"This, " he said, "is all right and that, and that. These are out ofthe question. You get me?"

The others nodded. 

"No blast furnaces, " he went on almost inaudibly. "No railway--nofurther capital expenditure--and then we reach the melon of dividend, "here he touched his untasted cantaloupe. 

Now, just at this moment, Wimperley nodded energetically and laughedoutright, whereupon a man whose name was Marsham, who sat at anadjoining table, turned--for Wimperley did not often laugh--and sawBirch's long finger resting on the melon, and, since Marsham was, without the knowledge of the others, one of the largest operators, inConsolidated stock, that stock took a further jump just half an hourlater, and all through Pennsylvania there were farmers, mechanics, country doctors and storekeepers who read the news and rejoicedexceedingly thereat. 

The others went their way, and Wimperley walked back to his officeimmersed in profound contemplation. Feelings of personal injury weremixed with those of apprehension. How would the affair proceed afterClark had taken with him his unrivaled and intimate knowledge of theworks; for, and in spite of all the dictates of prudence, it seemedimpossible to think of the vast enterprise at St. Marys without itscentral pivot. 

X. --CUPIDITY VS. LOYALTY

And all this time the chief constable of St. Marys was speculating inproperty with steadily increasing success. So crafty was he that fewpeople in the town knew it. When the fourth year of Clark's régime wascompleted, Manson had made profits that astonished him. His purchasescovered both farm and town lands, and amongst the latter was a mortgageon the vine clad cottage of Fisette. But not a man in his circle wouldhave guessed that what prompted the acquisition of the Fisette mortgagewas Manson's remembrance of a friendly joke about a Unitarian wolf; ajoke which still lived and set up a minute but unceasing irritation. Now, at any time, Manson might be in a position to teach the bishop alesson. 

It fell on a day that he was at the head of the old portage leadinground the rapids. Here he had recently acquired an option on aconsiderable acreage, calculating that before long a new town wouldspring up in the shadow of the works, and, just as he pushed throughthe underbrush and came out on the gravel beach, he caught the flash ofa paddle a mile away. He was hot and breathless and, lighting his bigpipe, sat in the shade, his ruminative eye on the fast approachingcanoe. Twenty minutes later it touched the shore, and Fisette, leaningforward on the thwarts, surveyed him with black and lustrous eyes. 

Manson nodded. He did not speak at once. It was palpable that Fisettehad been prospecting, and always in the north country the returningprospector brings with him a peculiar fascination. He is the herald ofthe hitherto unknown. It was also understood that Fisette was workingfor Clark. 

The half breed brought the side of his canoe delicately against thesand and, stepping lightly out, began to unload, greeting Manson with alow-voiced "Good morning. " Ax, paddles, dunnage bag, shed tent, thesehe laid neatly and, last of all, a small sack of samples, the weight ofwhich, however he disguised it, swelled the veins in his temples. Hewas stooping to swing this on his shoulders when Manson spoke. 

"Sit down a minute and have a smoke. "

Fisette did not want to sit down. There was that in the sack and inhis brain which he greatly desired to evacuate in the proper place andat the earliest possible moment. But a little reflection demonstratedthat undue haste would be suspicious. Inwardly disturbed at the sightand manner of Manson, he laid the sack gently down. There came theslightest creak of metallic fragments. 

"Had a good trip?" hazarded the big man carelessly. 

"Pretty fair. "

"Pretty rough country up there?" Manson waved his arm northwest. 

Fisette grunted. "About the same over there. "

He glanced into the northeast. 

"Been rooting about for over a year now, haven't you?"

The halfbreed grinned. "Since I was so high. " He indicated a statureof two feet. 

"Come far this time?"

There was a little pause while Fisette sheared thin shavings of tobaccofrom a dog-eared plug. He rolled them into a ball between his tawnypalms, thoughtfully unpicked the ball, re-rolled it more loosely, abstracted a match from the inside band of his tattered hat and beganto suck wetly at a gurgling pipe. "What's that?" he said presently. 

"I asked you did you come far?"

"Guess not so far as it seemed. Pretty bad bush. "

Manson hesitated, then, in a flash, saw through the breed's assumptionof indifference. Clark had been looking for iron for more than a year. All St. Marys knew that. Now, glancing covertly at the angularprojectings of the bulging sack, the constable jumped to hisconclusion. Fisette had found it and was on his way to report andprove the discovery. 

"I often wonder, " he remarked casually, "what keeps you fellows going. I never met a prospector yet who gave in that he was licked, and mightyfew of them found anything. They always claim they would have had itif they could have stayed out a bit longer. Take iron, for instance. Fellows have gone out after iron for years right from here and they allthought they had it, but they didn't. There was Joe Lalonde and PeteNanoosh and the rest of them. Same story over again. There's no ironhere anyway. The country rock is wrong--a mining engineer told methat. "

Fisette did not move nor did his expression change. His insides seemedon fire. He would have given much to be on his way to Clark's office, but something in his Indian blood whispered warningly. Moments passed. Presently he got up a little stiffly. 

"I guess I'll go now. "

Manson yawned. "All right, I'm going that way myself. "

Sudden irresolution appeared on the brown face. "Oh, well, I guessthere's no hurry. " He sat down and took out his last match. 

The big man chuckled. "Look here, Fisette, I suppose you know I'vebeen buying property around town?"

"So?"

"Yes, and the other day I bought a thousand-dollar mortgage. It's theone on your land. I guess you remember it?"

A sense of uncertainty fell over the half-breed. He knew that he oweda thousand dollars and had owed it for years. Every six months he paidthirty dollars to a lawyer and forgot all about it for the next six. To his mind the document with the seals, beside one of which he hadtraced a painful signature, was a forbidding thing, typical of theauthority of pale faces over brown. Then, quite suddenly, heremembered that next year he would have to pay off the whole thousand, and, moreover, pay it to Manson. 

"Is that so? I guess you're quite a rich man?"

Manson smiled grimly. "No, not a rich man, but--" he paused, felt verydeliberately in his coat and, taking out a fat pocketbook, slowlyextracted a bill. It was for one hundred dollars. "I'll bet you thisthat there is no iron within seventy-five miles of St. Marys. " Hesmoothed the bill on his broad knee. 

The half breed gulped. Only once before had he seen so much money inone note, and that was after he had signed the mortgage. Clark gavehim fifty dollars a month and his grub, and had promised more if hesucceeded. He had found iron ore. It was good enough to win the bet, but was it good enough for Clark? and if it was not good enough forClark the mortgage would have to be met out of nothing. 

"Well?" came Manson's deep voice. 

Fine beads of sweat appeared on the dusky forehead. A sinewy handcrept toward the sack, but just as he touched it there arose within himsomething very old and vibrant and compelling. Slowly he yielded toit. He saw Clark's gray eyes and heard his magnetic voice. Hedistinguished his own voice given in promise, Clark had alwaysencouraged him, no matter how often he returned empty handed, and now, looking broodingly at Manson, the half breed perceived the type thatfor centuries had defrauded his ancestors with poor bargains andglittering worthlessness. All that was good in Fisette, all the savagehonor of that vanishing race whose blood flowed in his veins, all theunquestioning fidelity of his half naked forebears, rose in violentprotest. He might be sold out, but not by any means would he sell out. 

"Go to hell, " he Said thickly. 

Manson laughed awkwardly, slid the bill back into the fat pocketbook, and heaved up his great bulk. 

"Come on, I haven't got a hundred dollars to throw away. I suppose youthought I was in earnest. "

Fisette shook his head. Just at that moment he was harboring nosuppositions, but had determined to go home without stopping at theworks. He swung the sack over his shoulder. 

"Go ahead. "

Manson drew a long breath and stepped into the narrow trail. Behindhim came the half breed, the neck of the sack drawn tight and its sharpcontents drilling into his back. He was carrying two hundred pounds offreshly broken ore. He said nothing, but kept his black eyes fixed onthe figure just in front of him. A little further on he stumbled overa root, recovered himself with a violent effort, and at that momentheard with dismay a ripping sound close behind his ear. In the nextinstant the load spilled on the soft earth. 

Manson, twenty feet away, turned at the sound and stood staring until, his face lighting with a triumphant smile, he stepped back. He hadrecognized ore, and it looked like iron ore. Forgetting about Fisette, he moved nearer, his large dark eyes shining with excitement, and justthen came a blinding slap. Fisette had swung the empty sack hardagainst his face. 

"You don't come here. Stand still. " The half-breed was crouchingbeside the ore like a bear on its hind legs. 

"Won't I?" The constable smarted with pain and charged with suddenpassion. He came on, leaning a little forward, his great knotted handstwitching, his shoulders curved in a slow segment of power. When hewas within six feet, Fisette screamed like a cat and darted at histhroat. 

They fought silently with bare hands. Manson, heavier than the breedby fifty pounds, was reputed one of the strongest men in the district, but he was matched with an adversary who had drawn into himself theendurance of the wilderness and the quick resiliency of the youngspruce tree. Were it only a contest of sheer force, Manson had wonoutright. Now, as his veins swelled and his arms stiffened aroundFisette's pliant body, the latter seemed to convert itself into a massof steel springs that somehow evaded compression. With feet sinking inthe soft soil, crashing through the under-growth with no words but onlythe heart breaking gasp of supreme effort, they fought on. Once Mansonthought he had conquered as his hands, closing behind the breed's back, locked in a deadly grip, with great muscles contracted, but just as itseemed the breed's ribs must crack there came an eel-like wriggle. Theconstable's arms were empty and again he felt the lean brown fingers athis bull-like neck. Once more he strove for that crushing clasp and, as Fisette darted in, opened his arms wide, took the punishment of asavage blow in the face, and closing his embrace, enwrapped his enemyin a suffocating hug. It was to the death, for a brown thumb wasdigging into his thorax and he felt sick and giddy. 

Seconds passed. The violent expansion of Fisette's chest workedpalpitating beneath the great arms, and, just ere endurance reached itslimit and the trees began to swim before Manson's eyes, his littlefinger touched the haft of the sheath knife that hung at Fisette'sback. The touch ran through Fisette's laboring frame like fire, for hehad reached the point where the world seemed dipped in blood. SlowlyManson pushed down his hand, never relaxing his titanic embrace. Butthe instant his fingers closed on the knife the half breed's backcurved like a mighty bow, the thick fingers creaked, cracked andyielded, the deadly grip was burst asunder, and Manson, sick andstaggering, saw Fisette free and crouching in front of him, the knifein his hand and murder in his eyes. A moment later he looked up. Fisette was sitting on his chest, and running his thumb along the razoredge of the blade. There was a little blood at the corner of his mouthand his cheek was scratched. Otherwise he was undisturbed. 

"Well?" he grunted presently, staring through half-closed lids. 

Manson was pumping air into a laboring breast. 

"I'm licked, " he panted after a while. 

"Say that again. " The breed's eyes opened wider. 

Manson said it while his soul revolted within him, but he would getFisette later on. Then there gleamed in the breed's dark eyes aflicker of Indian fury, and Manson breathed an inarticulate prayer asthe knife approached his throat, until as though from a great distancehe heard a voice. 

"You not going to tell any one I find iron. You swear that or I killyou here. "

The constable's brain began to rock giddily. Fisette in his presentcondition would not hesitate to kill. He knew that. "I swear it, " hepanted unsteadily, "on my honor. "

Fisette bared his white teeth. "Your honor no good. You swear by Godand the Mother of God. "

Manson repeated it, his breath coming more steadily. He had been neardeath, but as he stared at his conqueror he felt a contemptuous pityfor him. Fisette had moved away and was fumbling in his pockets. Presently he looked up. "You got a match?"

Manson searched, while his relaxing muscles trembled like quicksilver. He found a match and held it out. 

"Now go to hell!" said the half-breed calmly, and recommenced theritual of smoke. 

XI. --CLARK EXPERIENCES A NEW SENSATION, ALSO HIS DIRECTORS

The Japanese cook pottered softly about in the square stone basement ofthe blockhouse, while, up above, his master sat at a table with hiseyes fixed on a small mountain of blackish-gray rock. He had givenorders to admit none. Fingering the pointed fragments he experiencedmore emotion than ever before in his kaleidoscopic life. He sat inprofound contemplation of that which prehistoric and elemental fireshad laid down for his use. There was in his mind no question ofstrangeness that it should be himself who had decided that the thingwas there and must be unearthed. It was the turning of another page inthe book of his own history, the beginning of that chapter which wouldbe the most fascinating of all. 

Methodically he searched his retentive brain for data about iron ore. It existed in Pennsylvania and Alabama and New York, and, nearer still, there was the great field of Northern Michigan. But in Canada therewere only the distant mines of Nova Scotia. He unrolled a greatgeological map and pored over it, finding here, as always, the greatestfascination. Within two miles of St. Marys there was an inexhaustiblesupply of limestone. He stared at the map with a queer but quiteinflexible consciousness that this moment was the one he had awaitedfor years and his faith had not betrayed him. He got up with suddenrestlessness and stood at the window. The rapids sounded clearly, buthis mind was not on them. Looking to the west he saw the sky stabbedwith the red streaks of flame from converters that were yet to be, andranks of black steel stacks and the rounded shoulders of great furnacessilhouetted against the horizon. He heard the rumble of a mill thatrolled out steel rails and, over it all, perceived a canopy of smokethat drifted far out on the clear, cold waters of the lake. Heremembered with a smile that his directors would shortly arrive, andworked out for their visit a program totally unlike that they hadmapped out for themselves. Last of all he went to the piano and playedto himself. At any rate, he reflected, he would be known as the manwho created the iron and steel industry in the district of Algoma. Andthat was satisfying to Clark. 

Still feeling strangely restless, he moved again to the window, andjust then Elsie and Belding walked slowly past the blockhouse towardthe tiny Hudson Bay lock. Involuntarily he tapped on the pane. Theyboth looked up and he beckoned. When they mounted to the living room, he met them with a smile. 

Elsie glanced about with intense interest. She had been there oncebefore, but with a group of visitors. This occasion seemed moreintimate. She surveyed Clark a little breathlessly and with anoverwhelming sensation that here was the nerve center of this wholegigantic enterprise. Belding felt a shade awkward as he caught theglance of the gray eyes. 

"Sit down and have some coffee. " Clark clapped his hands softly andthe Japanese cook emerged from below. Presently their host began totalk with a certain comfortable ease that gave the girl a new glimpseof what the man might really be. 

"The directors are coming up this week--that means more work for you, Belding. "

The engineer nodded. Then the other man went on with the fluentconfidence of one who knows the world. Persia, India, Russia, --he hadbeen everywhere. 

"But what brought you here, Mr. Clark?" put in the girl presently. Hereyes were very bright. 

He turned to her: "What would you say?"

"Was it destiny?" she answered slowly. 

"Yes, " he replied with sudden gravity and a strange look at her brighteyes, "I think it was destiny. "

Her heart beat more rapidly, and from Clark her glance moved to Beldingwho sat a little awkwardly. There was not more than fifteen yearsbetween them but Clark's face had that peculiarly ageless appearancewhich characterizes some men and lends them additional interest. 

"And now you'll stay?" added Elsie. 

"Don't you think there's enough to keep me?"

Belding roused himself with a chuckle but Clark went on thoughtfully. 

"Do you see much change in St. Marys in the last few years?"

"Before you came, " she said slowly, "it was just--just Arcadia. "

"Are you sorry to say good-by to Arcadia?"

She shook her head, smiling. "Not a bit; I am glad it's over, but Iremember father often talking about the old days long before any of uswere here. First there were just the Indians, and then the Jesuitpriests. They used to paddle up the Ottawa River to Lake Nipissing andthen down the French River to the Georgian Bay, and so up Lake Huronround the rapids and on into Lake Superior. After them came thetraders and then the Hudson Bay Company, but, " she concluded a littleapologetically, "you know all about that. "

"Yes, I know, and now what do the people of St. Marys think about theworks? Eh, Belding, what do you say?"

"They don't think very much, sir--they've got into the way of takingthem for granted. "

Clark laughed. "I think I know that too. But you don't take me forgranted?" Here he glanced provocatively at Elsie. 

The girl recovered herself with difficulty. She was only twenty-one, but beside this wizard it struck her that Belding looked immature. Clark had seized on her imagination. He was the dreamer and theprophet and as well a great builder under whose hands marvelous thingstook shape. Now she was filled with a sudden and delightful confusion, and Belding, watching her, remembered the night they had floatedopposite the blockhouse while Clark's music drifted across theunruffled water. He felt good for his own job, but very helplessagainst the mesmeric fascination that the older man might exert if hewould. And behind all this moved his intense loyalty and greatadmiration for his chief. 

"Then St. Marys has produced all you hoped for, Mr. Clark?" said Elsie. 

"I not only hoped but believed and worked. " The answer was vibrant andsteady. "Hope doesn't do very much nowadays without belief and work. "He glanced at the piano. "Won't you play something?"

She blushed and shook her head. "No, please do yourself. "

"I don't play in public and I never had a lesson in my life. "

"But this isn't public, " she countered; "I think it's--well--ratherprivate. "

He laughed, went to the piano and his fingers began to explore thekeys. The others sat motionless. Elsie's eyes were fixed, not onClark but on Belding, and in them was an unanswered question. Themusic was not anything she knew but the chords were compelling and sheperceived in them that which this strange personality could not or didnot put into words--his hopes, his courage, his inflexible will and thedeep note of his power. Suddenly she recognized in him a lonely man. Her heart went out and her eyes filled with tears. Presently he lookedover his shoulder. 

"The gods are good to me to-day. "

"Yes?" Her voice was very uncertain. 

"I've found something for which I've been looking for years past. "

Belding's brows furrowed. There was that in Clark's manner whichbaffled him. Elsie seemed more than ever dainty and desirable in thisunusual setting. Had Clark seen this too?

"I'm so glad. " The girl's eyes were very soft. 

The two went home rather silently. Elsie seemed to be in a dream, andBelding had no words for that which now worked poisonously in hisbrain, but just so often as he yielded to the sharp pang of jealousyjust so often did his faith in his chief rise in protest. 

The engineer had seen Clark in many moods and under many circumstances. There were times when only the driving force of the man had pulledthings through, and he was transformed into an agency that worked itsinvincible will. There was another thing. So far as Belding knew, Clark had no links, sentimental or otherwise, with the rest of theworld. No whisper had come from outside regarding his past, and it wasonly when he himself talked that any light was thrown upon his formeryears. He seemed, in consequence, to be enviably free and ready foranything. Unfettered by tradition or association, he was a pendulum, balanced to swing potently in either direction. And what darkenedBelding's horizon was the thought that Clark, at any moment, mightswing toward Elsie Worden. 

Two miles away, Fisette was at home with his children. He was tiredbut in no way worn out, and in his pocket was one single piece of orekept as a souvenir. Clark's check lay safely deposited in the bank andthe halfbreed's teeth gleamed when he thought of the mortgage. It wasonly a thousand dollars. Therese, four years and three days old, wason his knee. They were all very happy, though only Fisette knewexactly why. With eyes half closed, he contentedly examined the cracksin the big iron box stove and, since the night was cool, stuffed inmore wood. It was in the back of his head that he had done what somany men had failed to do, and soon, when Monsieur Clark gave the word, he would be known as the man who had found iron in Algoma. 

At the big jail, halfway between Fisette and Clark, Manson sat at hisdesk in his little square office. He was very sore and very stiff, andhowever savage he might feel about his defeat he could not but admirethe fierce loyalty of the halfbreed. It was what he would have likedone of his own men to do. Now, however he might ache, he had a glow inevery strained joint. There was iron in Algoma and not far from St. Marys. 

Deliberately he shut away all outside thoughts and put himself to this, perceiving what iron would mean to Clark, this new factor that mightupset every pessimistic opinion which he himself had voiced. He satbiting at his big black mustache, till suddenly his imagination leapedclear of St. Marys and took flight to Philadelphia. What would thediscovery of iron mean there? Instantly he saw a swift rise inConsolidated stock and neither Manson nor any man in St. Marys owned ashare of that stock. 

In two days he was on the train for Toronto, and, in three, was theowner, on margin, of two hundred thousand dollars' worth ofConsolidated shares. The broker through whom he dealt looked curiouslyat this new customer, the only man from St. Marys who had evidenced anyfinancial interest in Clark's enterprise, and, concluding that therewas more in the transaction than met the eye, bought forthwith forhimself. Then the two shook hands very cheerfully, the brokerpromising to watch Consolidated like a hawk, while Manson bulged withsatisfaction. He would be known as the only man in St. Marys who hadmade a fortune out of Clark's undertakings and that was satisfying toManson. 

On the journey back he sat for hours staring out of the windows. Hehad shaken free from the drowsiness of a former existence. His eyeswere open to the ease with which fortunes are made by those who do nothesitate but seize the opportunity. He thought rather compassionatelyof Worden, Dibbott and the rest, good natured but thick headed. What asurprise it would be for them. But not once did Manson imagine that hewas trading peace for anxiety, and the even tenor of his former waysfor the hectic restlessness of the speculator. 

As he boarded the train he noticed that Clark's private car was at theend, and inside saw Riggs, Wimperley and the rest. They were talkingvery earnestly, oblivious to anything that went on outside. Manson, watching them from under the brim of his hat, felt a surge ofsatisfaction. He guessed the momentous news which brought them, and, late that night, as the train plunged through the wilderness, lay awakein his berth thinking of many things, while the occupants of theprivate car talked till they were weary and leaden-eyed of that whichthey must do at St. Marys. They were caught up, all of them, insomething greater than they. Forces had been set in motion by theamazing brain of Clark which they might modulate, but could not, in anyway, entirely control. The moving finger was writing, and they could, like him, only follow its mysterious command. 

The private car swung along over the clicking rail joints and thedirectors glanced without interest at the country they traversed. Thelatter part of their journey was through a wilderness, wild andunpromising. At Sudbury they saw evidence of what science and energycould do in what was not long ago unbroken forest, and what wealth laybeneath the tangled roots of spruce and tamarac, but the scene did notimpress them. It was a single undertaking with a single object andvitally different from their own ramified efforts, and the desolationof the country in which it flourished only accentuated their ownmisgivings. They were tired before the train drew in to St. Marys anddecided to discuss nothing that evening. At the works station Clarkmet them. He was cheerful and debonair. 

"Hullo, Wimperley, glad to see you. Had a good trip? You andStoughton are coming to the blockhouse with me. The others are at thehotel. Sorry I can't put you all up. "

Birch put down his bag and held out a clammy hand. "What about it?"He shot a quick glance at Wimperley. 

The president of the Consolidated shook his head. "No, no, we're notgoing to put you out, and besides I can't trust these fellows alone. We'll all go to the hotel. See you first thing in the morning. Matterof fact, Birch talked business all the time and we're dog tired. "

Clark's lips pressed a shade tighter, then his eyes twinkled. Riggs, observing him closely, wondered whether he had interpreted theexpression which all four were stolidly endeavoring to mask. But socheerful was he and so apparently unconcerned with anything but theircomfort, that Riggs decided a difficult moment had been safely passed. Later at the hotel he asked the others. 

"Knew, " said Birch acidly, "of course he knew. The very fact that wehung together told him the whole thing. However, it might just as wellbegin that way. "

Wimperley laughed, a foolish little laugh that drew the older man'spuzzled glance. "There's something ridiculous about all this, " hetittered suddenly. "We're like a flock of sheep afraid of a dog. Weneed a ram. You'd better be the ram, Stoughton, you're the bulkiest. "

Stoughton grinned, but there was no humor in it. "It's going to take acomposite ram. We've got to put down our heads and bunt together. Riggs, you can snap at his heels and distract him. Good night. "

They met at the works after breakfast, and Clark, in a flood ofconfidence, announced the program. 

"I want this to be a real visit, " he said cheerfully; "it's some timesince you were all here together and there's a good deal to see. Whenyou get tired let me know. I've not forgotten the time I nearly frozeRiggs to death. "

As he turned to lead the way, Wimperley sent a swift signal to hiscompanions, Clark was to have his head for the time being. Birchnodded approvingly. This was one method of finding out a good deal hewanted to know. 

"Water lots, " said Clark, waving a hand toward the bay that cut inbelow the rapids. On one side of it spread the works and on the otherthe town of St. Marys. "Channel dredged through, and docks, you see, are commenced. "

"Why docks?" asked Stoughton patiently. 

"We'll be shipping our own products in our own vessels before verylong, I hope, " came back the clear voice. "Save a lot that way, --I'llshow you the figures. That's one thing I want to talk about later. Come on into the mill. Extensions are about completed. "

They went through the great building whose floor seemed to palpitatedelicately with hidden forces, and began to feel the slow fascination. They saw dripping logs snatched from the water by mechanical fingersthat cut them to length and stripped the brown bark till the soft whitewood lay round, naked and shining. They saw the wood ground implacablyby giant stones and emerge from a milky bath in a thick wet sheet thatslid on a hot drum and coiled itself in massive rolls. Power, controlled and manipulated, was the universal servant. The whole thingwas punctuated by keen remarks from Clark, who shot out answers toevery imaginable question with extraordinary facility. They walked upthe swiftly flowing head race while the general manager pointed out itsproposed expansion, and explained the pressing need for diverting morewater from the rapids. As they progressed it seemed there was alwaysmore to discover. They inspected great rafts of logs, fresh from thewaters of Lake Superior, then came to timber mills and machine shops. And with all Clark was supremely familiar. In the middle of it Riggsvolunteered that he was tired, so they trailed back to the privateoffice in the administration building, where Clark unrolled maps andpointed out colored areas of pulp wood which were tributary to themills, and had been compiled from the reports of his explorers. 

Suddenly Birch put out a long forefinger. "What's that?"

"That, " said Clark cheerfully, "is a railway. "

Birch looked puzzled. "I didn't know a road ran north from here. "

"It doesn't--yet--but it's something we'll have to consider very soonto bring in pulp wood. "

"Oh!" Wimperley's voice was a trifle indignant. 

"It's another matter to discuss when you feel like it, " went on Clarkimperturbably. "The road won't cost us anything. "

"Won't it? Then it will be the first thing we have touched of itskind. " Wimperley tried to speak lightly. 

"The Federal Government bonus will pay for one-third, the provincialbonus for another, which leaves us about seven hundred thousand to takecare of. There should be no difficulty in getting that out of the saleof lands we will develop. However, " he added evenly, "we needn't worryabout it just now. And, by the way, I had an inquiry yesterday forforty thousand horse power. Of course we haven't got it to spare, atleast not at the moment. Now will you excuse me for just a moment?"

He stepped into the general office and shut the door softly behind him. Wimperley glanced inquiringly at Stoughton. 

"You haven't done much ramming this morning!"

"No, I'm not just in the mood. How about you?" Stoughton turned toBirch. 

The latter did not reply. His cold eyes were taking in the severefittings of the private office, whose walls were covered with maps andblue prints. The truth was that the spell of Clark's extraordinaryintelligence was beginning to fall over them once more. It was soobvious that he was the center of the whole affair, and from him thereseemed to spread out into the wilderness long filaments over whichthere trickled an unending stream of information. 

"I didn't hear 'blast furnaces' mentioned either, " piped Riggs. 

"Cut it out for the present. The time hasn't come, but it will. "Stoughton got up and began to walk up and down. "We've got to hear allhe has to say. That's the wise thing. Let him talk himself out. Hecan't talk for ever. "

Riggs shook his head. "Can't he?"

"No, nor any man, and be continuously to the point; and if you get abit shaky and converted just think of dividends on seven millions. That's what we came here for. I don't care how much bluffing it costsor how many days it takes. We're here now and the only thing to do isto wait till Clark's well runs dry and then give our ultimatum. But upto that time we must do whatever he wants us to do. It's going to hurthim--that's unavoidable--it will hurt us a lot more if we don't carryour job through. " All of which was a long speech for Stoughton, so hesat down and was looking defiantly truculent when Clark came in smiling. 

"You fellows have had enough for to-day so I've arranged a fishing tripfor this afternoon. It's a good river, only six miles out, and I ownit. It's an easy drive. You leave right after lunch and won't see meagain till to-morrow. Rods and things are ready, and there's a Frenchhalfbreed at the camp to cook for you. What do you say?"

The suggestion came like sudden balm in Gilead. Stoughton's facecleared. "What's your biggest fish--trout, aren't they?"

"Well, " said Clark slowly, "I've never had time to fish myself, butpeople who come to see me like a day off. Four pounds and a half isthe record so far. "

It was a magic touch. Riggs and Wimperley were, like Stoughton, keenfishermen, and while Birch fished for only one prize, all felt alikethat here was a surcease after a trying morning. They could pullthemselves together. 

With this reflection moving in his brain, Stoughton felt a stab ofcompunction. 

"I wish you could come, old man, " he jerked out to Clark. 

"Thanks, " said Clark with a curious light in his gray eyes, "but Ithink I'd better not. "

Five hours later Wimperley sat under a spruce tree and gloated over hiscatch. Close by were the rest, each arranging a row of speckledbeauties on the cool green moss. They had caught some forty trout, thebiggest being a trifle over the record, and this was Wimperley's fish. He leaned back, feeling a long forgotten youth trickle into his veins. In front of him the stream dodged round great boulders and vanishedinto the woods, flecked with foam from the falls whose wash cametremulously through the wilderness. The sky overhead was translucentwith the half light of sunset and he felt a delicious languor stealingover him. For three hours Stoughton, Riggs and he had fished to theirhearts' content, while Birch climbed a ridge and speculated what such aforbidding country might reasonably be expected to bring forth. Closeby the stream, Fisette bent beside a small fire from which came odorsof fried bacon and fish that aroused in the Philadelphians a fierce andgnawing hunger. Presently they sat on a mattress of cedar and ate oneof those suppers the memory of which passes not with the years. It wasRiggs who spoke first, lying back on the boughs, his head on his arm, anew glow in his pale cheeks. He looked younger and rounder than he didsix hours previously, and, stretching luxuriously, he experienced thesympathetic impulses that detach themselves from a full stomach. 

"I suppose there's no way out of it?"

"None whatever, " grunted Stoughton, who was lining his basket with mossand objected to being thus recalled. "What the devil has this to dowith dividends?"

"Nothing, I admit, but why in thunder did we start this game anyway?Why couldn't we just take things easy and go fishing. We've all gotenough. "

Wimperley stretched his arms above his head in delicious fatigue. "Keep away from second causes; this is no place for them. Four yearsago you were meant to go fishing to-day in this very stream. Why worryabout it?"

"I'm thinking about one R. F. C. , " came back Riggs reflectively, "justlike the rest of you. "

"Well, " sounded the dry voice of Birch, "so am I. And all this is veryapropos. It illustrates the general condition of affairs, especiallythat mess of trout you had on the moss a while ago. We're all trout, we and the shareholders. You, Wimperley, are that five pounder. Weall rose to the fly of one R. F. C. , and we were all landed in the backwoods. There are more trout in that stream, and, if we stand for it, the fishing is still good, but I've got the sting of the fly still inmy gills. Also I'm thinking about one Henry Marsham. "

Stoughton nodded sagely. "That's right, but if you liked fishing, Birch, you wouldn't drag in shareholders in that churlish fashion. What about blast furnaces, Riggs? We haven't heard a whisper yet. Wonder what Clark is thinking of?"

"Oh Lord!" murmured the little man, "if we only had iron!"

Fisette, who was dipping his dishes in a pot of hot water, turned hishead ever so slightly. The others had either forgotten about him orconcluded that their conversation was beyond a half-breed. But not aword had escaped the sharp ears of the man who moved so silently besidethe fire. 'Iron!' They had iron, but apparently did not know it. Fisette felt in his pocket for the small angular fragment he alwayscarried, and was about to hand it to Wimperley, when again heremembered Clark's command. He was to say nothing to any one. So thehalf-breed, with wonder in his soul, laid more wood on the fire and, squatting in the shadow of a rock, stared at the stream now shrouded inthe gloom, and waited for what might come. 

"But there's none in this damned country, " blurted Stoughton, "so getback to Birch's picture of the shareholders on the moss. "

"Trouble is I can't get away from it. " Riggs' small voice was soplaintive that the others laughed, then dropped into a reverie whilethere came the murmur of the hidden stream and the small unceasingvoices of the dusk that blend into the note which men call silence. Very softly and out of the south drifted a melodious sound. 

"Six o'clock at the works, " drawled Birch, snapping his watch. "Doesthat suggest anything?"

An hour later two buckboards drew up in front of the hotel and the fourstepped down, a little stiff, but utterly content. As Riggs took hisbasket from Fisette, he coughed a little awkwardly. 

"Look here, you fellows, I'm going to send my fish to R. F. C. With ourcompliments. It's only decent. "

"Well, " remarked Birch reflectively, "you might as well. It's the onlycompliment we're paying this trip. "

A profound sleep strengthened their resolution, and when next morningClark announced that he had arranged a trip up the lake, they accededat once. In half an hour the company's big tug steamed out into LakeSuperior, and the four, wrapped in big coats, for the water was likeice and the air chill, waited for the hour when Clark should run dry. 

"You're going back this evening?" he said as the vessel rounded thelong pine covered point that screened the rapids from the open lake. 

Birch nodded. 

"We'll get through by this afternoon. There isn't any more to showyou. " Clark spoke with a certain quick incisiveness and his eyesseemed unusually keen and bright. 

"We've seen all we want to see. "

The other man glanced at him sharply and said nothing. Then, as thebig tug plowed on, the great expanse of Superior opened before them, agigantic sheet of burnished glass edged with shadowy shores, and a longisland whose soft outline seemed to float indistinctly on the unruffledwater. As they steamed, Clark told them of the giant bark canoes thatonce came down from the lake heavy with fur, to unload at the HudsonBay store at St. Marys, and disappear as silently as they came ladenwith colored cotton and Crimea muskets and lead and powder. He told oflonely voyageurs and the Jesuit priests who, traveling utterly alone, penetrated these wilds with sacrificial courage, carrying the blessedSacrament to the scattered lodges of Sioux and Huron. Then, shiftingabruptly, he talked of his own coming to St. Marys and the chance talkon a train that turned his attention to that Arcadia till, as themoments passed, he himself began to take on romantic proportions andappear in the imagination of his hearers as a sort of modern voyageur, who had discovered a new commercial kingdom. 

"These logs, " he said abruptly, "are from our limits. "

The others glanced over the tug's high bows and saw nearing them agreat brown raft towed by a small puffing vessel. 

"Pulp wood, --ten thousand cords there. It doesn't take long to chew itup at the rate we're going. I want to speak to Baudette. "

He motioned to the bridge and the big tug drew in slowly beside itssmaller brother, while he talked to a brown-faced man who leaned overthe rail and answered in monosyllables, his sharp eyes taking in thegroup behind the general manager. The tug sheered off and put onspeed, while Wimperley and the rest held their breath as they skirtedthe straining boom that inclosed the raft. Presently the high, sharpbow turned shoreward, steam was cut off and the tug made fast to thesheer side of a little bluff that rose steeply out of deep water. 

Clark stepped out on a narrow gang plank that just reached the land. "You fellows haven't seen this north country yet, and I'd like you toget something of it on foot. This is part of our concession securedfrom the provincial government and I want you to walk over just alittle of it. As directors you ought to. "

"Come on, " said Wimperley under his breath. "It's the last chapter, he's nearly dry. "

The trail was narrow and newly cut. Treading at first on smooth rock, the Philadelphians took it briskly, jumping over stones and logs andpausing now and then at vistas of the lake. They were a little shortof breath when the path dipped to low ground and struck straight acrossa tangled ravine. Here the bush was thicker, and the air warm andmoist. Gradually the four coats came off. 

"Hold on a minute, Clark, " panted Stoughton who was beginning to sweat. 

"It's better over here, come along. "

But if it was better they did not notice it. Wimperley stumbled over aroot and plunged one hand up to the wrist in slimy mud. Riggs wasbreathing hard and his nostrils dilated, but he plugged doggedly on. Birch, now very red in the face, stepped close behind Stoughton, hischeeks stinging from the swish of branches released by the man justahead. Stoughton, his heart pumping, was in the lead, and desperatelytrying to catch the steadily progressing figure of Clark. He feltalmost like murder. Ten minutes more and the Philadelphians had lostall traces of refinement. Wimperley's trousers were torn at the kneeand his white, scratched skin showed through. Riggs had dropped coatand waistcoat beside the trail, his collar was off, his small bodytired and twisted, and from his lips streamed language to which he hadlong been a stranger. Birch had lagged far behind but plowed on with acold determination. He was breathing audibly through his nose, hiswatch chain was dangling on a cedar branch a quarter of a mile back, asharp pain throbbed in a barked shin and his boots were full of water. Still in the lead was Stoughton, who, regardless of all else, had putdown his head and was crashing heavily through the underbrush like ayoung bull moose answering the call of his distant and amorous mate. Clark was quite invisible. Presently the four halted. Humanity hadgone its limit. Birch dragged himself up and they stared at each otherwith furious eyes. 

"Lend me a handkerchief, " panted Riggs. 

Stoughton felt in his pocket, pulling one out with a cascade of pineneedles, when from three hundred feet ahead came a voice:

"I'm where we stop, you fellows, come on up. "

"That's just where he is. " Birch's difficult speech had something init that was almost deadly. "He's asked for it and he's going to get itright here. Come on. "

They trailed slowly up, a small, bedraggled, indecent procession, lostto everything except utter weariness and a spirit of cold revenge. InStoughton's heavy heart was the thought that Clark had unexpectedlymade their job vastly easier than they anticipated. The latter was ona little knoll that rose roundly from the encircling bush. He seemedcool and comfortable, and this stirred them to deeper anger. Hisfeatures were expressionless, save that his lips twitched ever soslightly. The Philadelphians dropped and lay limply, and there wassilence for perhaps five minutes when Birch lifted a haggard face andspoke. 

"Look here, Clark, I don't know the reason for this fool expedition, none of us do, but it serves well enough to lead up to the point ofother fool expeditions on a larger scale. "

"Yes?" said Clark with a lift in his voice. 

"It does. Now I'd like to go back about four years when you said thatthree millions would do you. In between now and then is a long storyand I haven't got breath to tell it, but to-day you've had seven andwe're deeper in the woods than ever we were. "

"Go ahead, I'm following you. "

"The long and the short of it is that we've had enough. "

"Of me?" The voice was very quiet. 

"Yes, damn it, of you; that is, in your present position of generalmanager. You can have one or two of the subsidiary companies but notthe whole darn thing, and--"

"The point is, " cut in Wimperley, "that we're afraid of you. We've notpaid a dividend and, as things go, there's not any likelihood that weever will. It's not easy to talk like this, and don't think weunder-estimate what you've done. No other man I know of could havedone it, but there's a limit to the money available in the State ofPennsylvania for this business--and we've reached it--that's all. "

"And if you want to know what's upset the apple-cart, " chirped Riggswith a little shiver--for they were all taking turns by now--"it's thatfool proposal to build a railway through this ungodly wilderness. " Thelittle man glanced about him with visible abhorrence. 

"And a blast furnace without any ore, " concluded Stoughton heavily. 

Clark's eyes wandered round the group while through his whole body rana divine thrill. He had very swiftly interpreted the purpose of thisofficial visit. The directors wanted to get rid of him but funked thejob, and now he experienced a certain contempt for their helplessness. He had a vivid sense of the dramatic and this tramp had been carefullythought out. The opportunity was made and it was for them to use it. He drew a long breath, conscious that here was the moment which comesbut seldom in the lives of men. It was only five years ago that, practically penniless, he had overheard a conversation in a train. 

"Ore?" he said coolly without changing a muscle. "Why, you're sittingon five million tons of the best ore I ever saw. "

A blue jay lit on a branch over his head and looked impudently down. No one spoke. Presently Wimperley scratched at the moss with his heel, bared a strip of rock and stared at it as though he had hurt it. Stoughton rolled over and shot side glances at Clark, whose eyes werefixed on the jagged horizon. 

"What?" whispered Riggs. 

"The discovery was made some days ago by one of our own prospectors, but I could not speak definitely until the various analyses werecompleted. It is excellent ore and will smelt well. There islimestone within two miles of the works. The coke, of course, willhave to be brought up. '"

"I'll be damned!" murmured Stoughton in a voice husky with reverence. 

The others spoke not at all, but peered blinkingly at Clark as thoughhis recumbent body were hiding more wonders from them. PresentlyWimperley, who knew something of ore, bent stiffly forward, picked up afragment of rock and, after a long scrutiny, nodded slowly. 

"This exposure is about half a mile long, " said the quiet voice. "Itcrops out there and there, " he pointed to neighboring ridges, "andthere's more beyond that, if you'd care to walk over. "

But no one cared. The Philadelphians were too lost in fatigue andastonishment. After a little Riggs commandeered the rest and the fourbegan to roll back great blankets of moss, just as Fisette had done theweek before, and everywhere beneath lay iron ore. Clark watched themwith a suggestive smile till, after a little, Birch sat down panting, his hands stained with soil. 

"Well?" he demanded, "how about it?"

"It was something more than three years ago that the first prospectorwent in, " commenced Clark thoughtfully, "and I reported at the timethat it was definitely stated by those who ought to know that there wasno iron in the country. Geological maps showed the same thing, but itstruck me there was too much guess work about them, so we began to makemaps of our own. A month ago we got into iron formation and soon aftercame the discovery. I felt all along that the stuff was there, butcould not say anything officially till the analyses were completed. Wecan lay this ore down at the workers for two dollars a ton. And now, "he added in a voice that suddenly changed into sharp and rising tones, "do I get my blast furnace?"

The effect on the group was extraordinary. They had sat motionless, oblivious to fatigue and mosquitoes, while Clark spoke. Their brainswere flooded with the knowledge that this meant ultimate permanence tothe works. It meant rails and plates and all iron and steel products, and these were made doubly possible by the enormous reserve of powerstill available in the rapids at St. Marys. They glanced into thewoods as though there were still mysterious treasures waiting to berevealed at a wave of the hand of this magician. 

Presently Wimperley straightened up. He had been going through astrange searching of soul while his gaze wandered from the glisteningrock at his feet to Clark's keen face. He began to perceive clearlyfor the first time the prodigious potentiality of this man who wasequally masterful in Philadelphia and the back woods. He saw to whatwide scope this enterprise could expand if only this restless andprophetic spirit might be wisely steered by men of colder brains andmore deliberate resolution. But Clark, after all, was the creator. 

"Yes, " he said half aloud, "you get your blast furnace. "

The Philadelphians took to the homeward trail with backward glances andsomething of regret lest the archaean foundations of that mountain ofore might shift over night. There was no sense of fatigue now. Birchskipped over logs in wayward abandon and laughed like a schoolboy whenClark picked a heavy gold watch chain that dangled from an overhangingbush. Riggs' thin legs were being scratched by the sharp samples withwhich he had stuffed his trouser pockets, but he felt them not, andStoughton's choler had given way to a profound contemplation out ofwhich he periodically breathed the conviction that he would be damned. Wimperley was already organizing a new company--an ironcorporation--and hazarding shrewd guesses as to the effect thisdiscovery would have on the outstanding stock. The result, heconcluded, would be most inspiring. 

They lunched on the tug, an admirable meal, while the vessel vibratedgently and through the open portholes came the swish of bubbling waterand a flood of sunlight. Then Riggs made a little speech and they alldrank Clark's health, promising him continued support and such money ashe needed to make steel rails. The threatening specter of Marsham hadvanished utterly. 

The answer was characteristic. There was no mention of anything thespeaker had contributed, but just the voicing of his unalterable faithin a country which so far had never failed to produce whatever theindustry required. It was a pleasure for him to work for directors andshareholders who had so practically demonstrated their confidence. Hesaid this with a smile which was absolutely undecipherable, then dranktheir health in water which was his only drink---declined one ofWimperley's cigars, for he did not smoke--and inquired quietly if hewas to get his railway as well. Whereupon he was immediately assuredthat he would get anything he asked for. 

That evening the Philadelphians left in the private car. They wererather quiet, being caught up in contemplation of a new vision. As thetrain pulled out Clark waved a hand to the group on the rear platformand returned thoughtfully to the blockhouse where he began to write. The letter was to his mother. He told her that he had been too busyfor correspondence of late, and had just concluded a very satisfactoryand official visit from his directors. In consequence, he would now bebusier than ever. He stared at his own signature for a moment, thenopened a window and stood peering out toward the river. The moon wasup, and he caught the snowy gleam of foam at the foot of the rapids. Their voice seemed very clear and very triumphant that night. Theysang of providence--or was it destiny?

His mind turned reflectively to Elsie Worden, experiencing as yet nothrill but just a growing and satisfying attraction. All things seemedpossible tonight. He had never given much thought to women, beingimpatient with what seemed to him their artifice and slight power ofinsight. So often the women who were esteemed most praiseworthy, werealso the least intelligent, and lacked that spark which to himsignified vision. In past years he had had a rooted belief that thestandard wife was a burden who not only robbed one of mobility, butalso demanded her portion of all moments, however individual, absorbedor tense they might be. In such circumstances there was nothing aroundwhich he could build a mental fence and call it his own. 

It is possible that in such periods as these, when Clark gave himselfup to taking soundings, as it were, in the sea of his destiny, hedistinguished in his own nature that curious duality of sex which makesit possible for certain rare individuals to self satisfy theiremotional appetites, and that it was this which had kept him single andunfettered. If he had a craving he could forthwith produce that whichappeased it. He luxuriated in the revelations of his own perception. To him the inarticulate thing became vocal with possibilities. He wasconscious of no unsatisfied need. And yet, for all of this, the visionof the girl, Elsie, began to blend with his thoughts. 

XII. --LOVE AND DOUBT

Some three months later Belding was walking slowly down the main streetof St. Marys. He felt fagged and the sun was hot. Just as he reachedthe Dibbotts' white gate he heard a clear voice from behind the clumpof azaleas that screened the cottage from the road. 

"Come in, Mr. Belding. "

He lifted the latch and saw Mrs. Dibbott in a white dress on the porch. She seemed cool and restful. 

"Sit down here. My, but you look tired!"

"I am, " he admitted, mopping his face. 

"Then sit where you are and have some elderberry wine and cookies. They're right from the oven. "

He sighed with relief and began to munch contentedly. He had not knownhow tired he was, and Mrs. Dibbott's cookies were famous. 

"You look played out, " she went on sympathetically. "How's ElsieWorden?"

"Well. But I don't see very much of her nowadays. "

"Why?"

"Work. " His brain was fermenting with half completed plans andcalculations. He might as well lay it to that. 

"Well, why don't you two get married? You will be old before yourtime. "

Belding shook his head. "It takes two to make a bargain. "

"But it doesn't take long. " Mrs. Dibbott put down her crochet work. "Don't you think your friend Mr. Clark depends just a little too muchon individuals--I include himself in that?"

"Perhaps, but it didn't occur to me. At any rate we have a one manconcern. "

"And if anything happened to him, what then?" Mrs. Dibbott's eyes werebright with inquiry. "And suppose you break down, what about Elsie?"

"Elsie wouldn't be affected, " he said slowly. 

"Then you two are not engaged?"

"I thought we would be by this time but I guessed wrong. "

Mrs. Dibbott was full of sympathy. "I suppose it serves me right forpoking my nose into other people's business. My, but I'm sorry!What's the matter with Elsie?"

"Nothing. "

"Then with you?"

"Nothing. "

"May an old woman make a fool of herself?"

"Please--but it won't be that. "

"Then has Elsie found some one else--if you don't mind my asking?"

"Possibly, --I can't say. "

"But you're the only man in town who takes her anywhere. The judge isfond of you, he told me so, and Mrs. Worden thinks you are the wholeworld. What's the matter, Jimmy?"

Belding got rather red. "I'm afraid I can't say. "

Mrs. Dibbott's eyebrows went up, then she leaned over and patted hishand. "Whoever it is you'll knock him out. Sorry I did make a fool ofmyself, but it's my fixed belief that you come first with Elsie, thoughperhaps she doesn't know it. "

Belding laughed in spite of himself. "She certainly doesn't know ityet. "

"Now tell me about the iron works. "

"It will be a couple of years before they are finished. " Belding'sbrain began to throb once more. In imagination he was putting up blastfurnaces. 

"It will mean a good deal for the town, won't it?"

He nodded. "The biggest thing yet--St. Marys is all right now. "

"And it was that dirty old Fisette who found the mine?"

Belding chuckled. "He's not old nor dirty, and was the best prospectorof the lot. Yes, he found it. "

"Goodness! were there many of them?"

"About twenty. They all worked in different districts and knew nothingabout each other. "

"Then that's what brought that special train load up from Philadelphia?"

"I suppose so. They seemed very happy when they left. "

Mrs. Dibbott poured out some more elderberry wine. "When I think whatthat man has done just out of water, it makes me gasp. I switch on thelight and don't trim any more lamp wicks, and the well's gone dry and Idon't care, and Mr. Filmer told me last night there are eight thousandmore people in St. Mary's. Do you remember that meeting?"

"Every word of it. "

"And Mr. Manson--he was a wet blanket, wasn't he?"

"But he was snowed under, fortunately. "

"I know he was, but did you hear that he has made a fortune out of realestate, and is going round with a face as long as his back?"

Belding knew nothing about Manson--he had been too busy. 

"Every one says he's in the dumps because he sold out just beforeFisette found that mine and real estate has been jumping ever since. "

"But he never believed in Mr. Clark. "

"Some of him does and some of him doesn't, " said Mrs. Dibbott sagely. 

"How much did he make?" Belding was wiser with other people's moneythan with his own. 

"They say twenty-five thousand and, " she added enigmatically, "I'msorry for his wife. "

The engineer laughed, said good-by and turned toward the Worden house. 

At the sound of his step in the garden Elsie looked up, a provocativesmile on her face. She was so dainty, so desirable, that he felt aswift hunger throbbing even to his finger tips. She made room for himon the bench. 

"I'm for Mother Earth. " He stretched himself at her feet. "Where haveyou been lately, we've missed you at the works. "

"I've just got back, been away for two weeks. Are you still very busy?"

He nodded, but business was not what he wanted to talk about. It wasmore than two years now since they first met and he had a feeling thatall that time he had been an open book to her bright eyes. 

"Don't let us talk business, " he said a little unsteadily. 

She swung her large straw hat by its silk ribbons. "You shall chooseyour own subject. "

"It isn't business, it's you, " he went on bluntly. "I've tried to tellyou before but you wouldn't let me. "

"It's a heavenly evening for a proposal. "

"Do you mean that?" he gasped. 

"Why shouldn't I? The moon is just coming up and the river is quietand we can hear the rapids, and here you are at my feet. What morecould a girl ask?"

Something twitched at Belding's fancy. "Then I love you and I want youdesperately and I'll take care of you all my life. Is there any oneelse?"

His voice sobered her. "Don't, you mustn't say it like that, it soundstoo real. "

"But it is real, " he protested, "the most real thing I ever said. "

"You mustn't, " she answered a little shakily. "I'm sorry. I shouldn'thave gone on like that. "

Belding captured her hand. "I'm glad you did, Elsie, it was justright. "

"But I didn't mean it, " she said pitifully, "and it wasn't fair of me. I didn't know you felt like that. "

Belding stared at her astonished. "You must have known. "

"Then possibly I did, --I wasn't sure. I--I didn't think of it much, but, Jimmy, I don't want to be married just now. You've been splendidever since we met--and really I didn't want you to say what you did. "

"Perhaps not in the way I said it. " Belding's face became suddenlyrigid. "And perhaps now I know why. You see it's hard for me tocompete with my own chief, " he added grimly. 

"That's not fair, " she burst out, her cheeks flaming. "If you reallycared you wouldn't say it. "

"I only want to know where I stand, " he replied with sudden dignity. "If you'll tell me that, I will be satisfied--for to-night. "

Her mood changed in a flash. "That sounds better, but, Jimmy, must youknow to-night? It's hard for me to tell you. "

"Why?" he demanded. He wanted his answer, fraught with whatever fate. 

"Because I don't just know myself, " she said softly. "I wonder if Ican explain. I am fond of you, Jimmy, more than you know, but I wantto be fair to you and I want to be fair to myself as well. Have younever been in a state in which you were conscious that the world wasfull of things you had dreamed of but never expected to find actually?"

He stared at her with the swift intuition that there had been a seasonnot long ago when he felt just like this. But now he was getting usedto it. 

"Yes, " his voice was quite steady, "I know what you mean. "

"It's that way with me now, and I'm just finding out about myself. "Her eyes were fixed on the white line of the rapids. "I don't knowwhat sort of a woman I'm going to be, --that sounds queer but it's true. I'm going to want something more than love, " she added under her breath. 

Belding did not stir and there drifted down to them the deep, hollowmonotone that pervades St. Marys when the wind comes in from the west. The young man scanned the innumerable lights beside the rapids, --hecould place each one of them. Then slowly the moon came up with a softgleam that laid a silver path across the river and touched the girlinto an unearthly beauty. 

"I want you, Elsie, " he pleaded. 

She looked at him with eyes like stars. "Perhaps I want you, Jimmy, "she breathed, "but I don't know yet. Supposing I said 'yes' and thenit was all wrong--for each of us?"

"You said you asked for more than love; perhaps I have no more--in yourmind. "

Clark's name was hammering in his brain, but he kept it down. 

Followed a little silence. "Do you want to do something for me?" shesaid presently. Her lips were tremulous. 

"I've always wanted that. "

"Then give me time to find myself--I'm trying hard now. "

Belding moved restlessly. "I'm afraid that some one else will findyou. "

She glanced at him startled. "If that happens, Jimmy, it means that Ihaven't spoilt your life. "

"I want you to spoil it. "

"You haven't answered my question; will you give me time?"

Belding got up, put his hands on her slim straight shoulders and staredinto the beautiful, troubled face. 

"Elsie, if any one else does come between us--"

She was seized with strange and sudden fear. "No, no, you don't knowwhat you are saying. "

He relented instantly. "I'm sorry, I was talking nonsense. Now I'vegot to go and see the bishop about the new church--won't you come?"

The shadow passed from her eyes. "Yes, I'd love to see him, if youwon't get on that subject again. "

"What subject?"

"You know, " she laughed, once more light hearted. 

"I promise, but for to-day only. "

They walked slowly down the long straight street that led past Filmer'shouse, which was surrounded by trees, and reached the corner whereFisette's cottage marked the turn up to the bishop's residence. Fisette was on his front doorstep with small people around him, andwaved gayly as they passed. 

"He's very happy now, isn't he?" said Elsie. 

Belding nodded. He found it hard to join in the happiness of anotherman whose children's arms were about his neck. Elsie's eyes turned tothe figure of the bishop, who was on his wide veranda, a large strawhat on the back of his head. Manuscript lay on the floor beside himbut at the moment he was absorbed in a large green leaf that spreadacross his knees. It was piled with strawberries. As the gate clickedhe signaled hospitably. 

"Come along, children--just in time. Mr. Belding, can you pick fruitby moonlight? Elsie, come here and talk to me. To tell the truth Iwasn't thinking just now of any of my flock, but I'd much sooner see alamb like you than some of the old ewes who will always insist on beingserious and respectful. What you observe on the floor is a book Iwould have written if I'd not been a bishop. " He rambled on tillBelding reappeared with a hat full of berries. 

"Here they are, sir, and I've got another offering as well. "

"You don't say so, what is it?"

"Do you remember, a year or so ago, talking to me about apro-cathedral?"

"Very distinctly. But I was afraid that the press of work had made thething impossible so far as you were concerned, so I let the matterstand. "

"Well, it isn't impossible, and that church is going to be built. "

The bishop drew a long breath. "I am delighted to hear it, because Ihaven't got any money yet. It has all gone in salaries ofmissionaries, and your friend Mr. Clark has put me to a lot of extraexpense. I knew he would the minute I saw him. "

"But this church, " said Belding with a little lift in his voice, "isgoing to be built without money. Peterson, the masonry contractor atthe works, will give the stone, and his masons will donate the labor. Borthwick, another contractor, will give the lumber and his carpenterswill put it together. Windows--plain glass of course--and the variousfittings are all taken care of by different people, and there was justone thing I found a little difficult, and now that's all right. "

"And what was it?" The bishop was leaning forward, his large, expressive eyes very bright. 

"Cement, sir. No one seemed to have any to spare. Finally I went toRyan--I don't know whether he has met you. "

"Yes, an excellent type--one of my own countrymen. I like Ryan, astrong Romanist, isn't he?"

"Yes, but finally I ran him down and told him I wanted enough cement tobuild a Protestant church. "

"But---"

"But, listen! Ryan thought it over for a minute, then his eyes beganto twinkle and he pointed to his storehouse and said that if it wouldcement the Protestant church together I might take the pile. "

Elsie laughed, while the bishop relapsed into deep body-shaking mirth. 

"Splendid! Fine chap that Ryan. He's from Maynooth and I'm fromLurgan and who says the Irish don't hang together? So it's allsettled?"

"Yes, when can we start work?"

"At once if it's possible. How long will it take?"

"Three months would finish it. The job will be swarming with men. "

"Good, and we hope that Ryan's cement will hold the church together. I'm reminded of another Romanist friend who was approached for asimilar Protestant object. He wouldn't help to build the new churchbut he did contribute toward tearing down the old one. And now, " herethis good and kindly man paused and looked affectionately at the twoyoung people beside him, "it's my turn to make a suggestion. "

Elsie glanced up with uncomfortable intelligence. 

"I'd like the first wedding in the new church to be yours if possible. And if you like, I'll officiate myself. " He patted the girl's handsoftly. 

"That's dear of you, " she stammered, "but--it's a long way off. "

The bishop looked up sharply and saw that Belding's eyes were fixed onFisette's cottage. "By the way, how's my friend Mr. Clark?" he put inhastily. 

Belding smiled, "Working too hard, as usual. "

"And working every one else, especially you. Well, I assume that's hisway. I'd like you to tell him that we're building a new church becausehe did not seem to care for the other one. "

"Does that fall within the office of an engineer?" said Beldingdoubtfully. 

"Unquestionably. Your profession does many different things by manydifferent methods. By the way, I hear we are to have iron works in St. Marys. "

"Yes, thanks to Fisette. "

"It's some years since Mr. Clark told me he had reason to believe therewas iron in the district. Now I hope that this prophet will have honorin his own country. "

A few minutes later the young people rose to go. The bishop followedthem to the gate, and Elsie felt the benediction of his kiss on herforehead. He watched them from his veranda till, with something of asigh, he collected the manuscript at his feet, put it away and turnedto next Sunday's sermon. He looked at this thoughtfully, then walkingslowly into his study laid it also away. His face was suddenlycareworn. He felt unduly oppressed by the burdens of his office, andthere came back on him, as it often did, like a flood, theconsciousness that it was for him by personal effort to raise half themoney needed to pay his forty missionaries. Should he fail, they wentwithout. Constantly aware of their simple faith, he knew also thatthey were poorly fed and lacked any provision for old age. 

Involuntarily he began to compare their lot with that of the magneticClark, and was confronted with an eternal problem. Why should faithand sacrificial loyalty fare so much more poorly than the mechanicaland constructive nature? Clark had, apparently, the world at his feet, but what comfort and security was there for brave and spiritual souls, and for what baffling reason were they robbed of present reward?

He pondered this deeply, and, raising his troubled eyes, looked fixedlyat a large print of the Sistine Madonna that hung on the study walljust opposite his desk. As he gazed at its ineffable tenderness therecame to him a slow surcease of strain. Flotsam and jetsam of eternitythey might all be, his missionaries and Clark and himself, butunderneath were the ever-lasting arms, on which, --and he thanked Godfor this, --some had already learned to lean. There flashed into hismind his own arrival at St. Marys, the northern center of his vastdiocese; the joy with which the neighboring Indian tribes had welcomedhim and the name "The Rising Sun" which they had forthwith given him. They had looked forward, they said, to his coming as to morning afterthe darkness of night. The reflection grew in his mind and broughtwith it hope and renewed courage. 

XIII. --THE VOICE OF THE RAPIDS

It fell on a morning that Clark, sitting at his desk, felt within himthat strange stirring to which he had long since learned to give heed, it being his habit at such moments to leave the works and resignhimself completely to these subtle processes. He now walked slowlyacross toward the river, and seated himself where, years before, he hadwatched the triumphant kingfisher. The place had a peculiarfascination for him, and had by his orders been kept in its pristinewildness. Half a mile away the pulp mill was grinding dully, on theupper reaches of the great bay circular saws were ripping into logsfresh from Baudette's operations on the Magwa River, and seventy milesup the river a large crew was shipping and excavating at the iron mine. These things and many others being on foot, Clark had experienced thatintellectual restlessness which in him was the precursor of furthereffort. 

Listening to the boom of the river he reflected that the water he haddiverted to his own purposes was but a fraction of the whole mightytorrent racing in front of him. Into the scant half mile between shoreand shore was forced the escaping flood of the mighty Superior, andsuch was the compression that, midway, the torrent heaped itself upinto a low ridge of broken plunging crests. Just over the ridge hecould see the opposite shore line. It did not occur to him, as itwould to many, how puny were the greatest efforts of man beside thisprodigious mass. The manner of his mind was, too objective. The sightof the United States so close at hand only suggested that in thecountry from which he came he had as yet made no physical mark. Therewas the town with the rapids close beside it, just as in Canada. Moreand more the inward stirring captured him. Why should he not create inhis own land what he had already created in Canada?

The idea was stimulating, and very carefully he reviewed the situationas it there existed. His supporters were keen men in Philadelphia andthe unexpected announcement of Fisette's discovery had electrified themarket. Shares in all the allied companies touched hitherto unreachedvalues. The more he thought the more he luxuriated in this new sweepof imagination, while intermittently there came to him the dull boom ofblasting at the works. 

Presently his mind turned to money and personal wealth. He had nevergiven it much thought, and only seriously considered money in terms ofwhat it could accomplish. Now he was receiving a very large salary andhad, as well, holdings in shares of the various companies. He dwelt onthe fact for a while, not that he had ever aimed at riches, but becausehis financial position was infinitely better than ever before. Itwould be easy, he reflected, to sell out, retire and live at ease. Hechuckled audibly at the picture, realizing that if he stopped work hewould die of a strangulated spirit. 

Presently as he listened it seemed that the rapids took on a new pitch. He had remarked before that, varying with the direction of the wind, their call was not always in one great thundering diapason butsometimes in a gigantic hubbub made up, as it were, of the confusedblending of many notes. Now, he imagined, he could discern themall--querulous, angry, contented, pleading, defiant, threatening andtriumphant, and he perceived in them but the echo of changing humanmoods. To-day he distinguished chiefly a voice that was dominant andimperative. 

Still in profound contemplation he surveyed the rapids' gigantic sweep, the proud and tossing billows shot through with sunlight and vibrantwith speed. He made out those smooth and glistening emerald cellarsinto which the flashing river pitched to rise again in tossing crests. He followed back through the icy depths of the great lake stretchingwestward to hidden swamps in that vast wilderness where these waterswere born, and shouting rivers down which they poured through silentpools and over leaping cataracts to Superior. He saw still anotherriver that, growing in power and majesty, moved royally past the citiesof men, healing, sustaining and inspiring. And, last of all, heperceived these waters of half a continent blend silently with thebrackish tides and lose themselves in the eternal sea. 

This translation of vision moved him profoundly, for it was the natureof his remote personality to be stirred more deeply by the revelationsof his own soul than by anything extraneous to its strange reactions. Then gradually the voice of the river resolved itself into one clearand unmistakable summons. "Use me while you may. I shall flow onforever, while you have but a moment in eternity. "

And this satisfied him. 

He got up and walked slowly back, plunged in thought, but not of thosewho passed and touched their hats and to whom he was thepersonification of power. There was in his mind the talk he had withWimperley, a few months before. "We're in your hands, " he had said, "but there's a limit to what we can raise. Push on with work and don'tforget about dividends. "

Remembering it, Clark smiled. The dividends might be delayed a year orso, but when they came it would be in a flood like the rapids. At hisoffice he found a telegram from the purchasing agent in the UnitedStates. Blast furnaces were under way, and, he reported, he hadsecured an option on a rail mill. It was not new, but could be had atonce. To dismantle and reërect would save six months as against thetime required to build a new one. This purchase would also savehundreds of thousands of dollars. 

He pondered for some time, with Wimperley's remarks about dividendskeeping up an irritating onslaught. He was aware in a strange butquite unmistakable way that this decision now to be made was in a quitepositive sense more momentous than appeared on the surface. He hungover it, balancing the advantages of a new mill against a definitesaving. It was not the sum about which he hesitated, but a touch ofuncertainty as to just how much capital Wimperley and the rest couldactually provide. Then suddenly he decided to be economical, eventhough a secondhand mill had obvious weaknesses. 

In the next moment he rang for Belding. The engineer answered with aweariness daily becoming more settled, and which was only relieved bythe spontaneous loyalty he had from the first conceived for his chief. Of late he never entered Clark's office without anticipating someaddition to burdens he had already determined were too heavy for hisyoung shoulders. But now, too, as always, he had no sooner closed thedoor and caught the extraordinary power in Clark's eyes than he wascaught up in the grip of his chief's confidence and felt ready for theeffort. 

"You know the ground on the other side of the river?"

"Yes, sir. "

"I wish you would take a look over it very quietly and bring me a townmap on which you have indicated the cheapest possible route for anotherpower canal. "

"Another canal!" said Belding involuntarily. 

"It's important that it should be the cheapest possible, " went onClark, apparently without hearing, "and you'll have to balance up thematerial to be excavated by a longer route against the cost of moreimproved land by one that is more direct. "

"How much power is required?" The question came dully. 

"Not less than thirty thousand. I'm going to make carbide. At least, "he added with a short laugh, "if I don't, some one else will. "

Belding drew a long breath. He had a swift and discomfortingconviction that this man, whom he felt forced to admire, was going toofast. Around him were all the evidences that he had not gone too fastand there seemed to be unlimited support behind him. But yet--

The engineer grew very red in the face. "Do you think that's wise, sir?" he said with a tremendous effort. 

Clark glanced up in astonishment and his expression grew rigid. "Justwhat do you mean, Belding?"

"I am sorry, sir. I know it sounds impertinent but I've a rottenfeeling that things--that things--" He broke off in distress. 

"I'll trouble you to finish your sentence. " The voice was like ice. 

"Don't misunderstand me, " the young man went valiantly on. "It isn'tfor myself, it's for you. "

"Why me?" Clark's glance softened ever so little at the thought. 

"New schemes are piling up every day. We're not out of one beforewe're into another. "

"We?" The voice had a touch of irony. 

"Yes, sir, we--because I'm with you to the end, whatever that may be. I don't care if I go to smash and lose my job, but what about you? Idon't want to be disrespectful, but if this company fails it's you thatwill have failed. I won't count except to myself. You're doing morenow than ten ordinary men. Isn't there enough without that?" Beldingpointed across the river. 

Then, to the young man's amazement, Clark began to laugh, not riotouslybut with a gradual abandonment that shook his thickset body withsuccessive convulsions of mirth. Presently he wiped his eyes. 

"Sit down, Belding, but first of all, thank you from the bottom of myheart. You make a brilliant contrast with a group I know who had tobolster themselves up for days to get courage to say something of thesame kind, and they were thinking of their own skins, not mine. Now Iwant to tell you something. "

Belding nodded. His brain was too confused for speech. 

"It really doesn't matter about me. Long ago I decided that I wasmeant for a certain purpose in this world. I'm trying to carry it out. I may reach it here--or elsewhere, frankly I don't know. But all I doknow is that there are certain things here that I was meant to tackleand this new canal is one of them. If I go to smash it was intendedthat I smash, and that doesn't worry me a bit. I'm not working formyself, or even in a definite way for my shareholders, but I'm tryingto adapt the forces and resources of nature to the use of man. Don'tyou see?"

"I think so. " Belding began to perceive that he was caught up as asmall unit in a great forward movement that encompassed not onlyhimself but thousands of others. 

"So once again, thank you for what you said. It was a bit of a job, wasn't it?"

"The toughest thing I ever tackled. "

Clark's eyes twinkled with amusement. "I know it. Now, remember Idon't want advice and if I smash--and I really won't smash--I don'twant sympathy. It's the kind of balm I've no use for. Some people areso hungry for sympathy that they forget their jobs. And, Belding!"

"Yes, sir. "

"I'm going to see you through, remember that. Now make me that map, and, " he concluded with a provocative drawl, "don't forget howfortunate it is for you and me that water runs down hill. "

Belding's mind was in a whirl. "There's one other thing, " he said, "I've promised to build a cathedral for the bishop. Peterson has giventhe stone and--"

"I told him to, " broke in Clark; "couldn't you guess that? He spoke tome about it. But understand that neither the bishop nor any one elsemust know it. I told them all except Ryan, and I didn't like to treadon his religious toes. "

Belding laughed. "I should have guessed it. The thing was too easy, and Ryan came up to the scratch with the rest. "

In September the pro-cathedral was completed. Belding, faithful to histrust, had made almost daily visits of inspection, when he often foundthe bishop seated on a half-cut stone and talking with evident interestto the workmen. It seemed that the big man's presence pushed the workalong at top speed. On one occasion, a few days before the openingceremony, the engineer was watching a mason laying the machicolatedcoping on the tower when the trowel slipped and dropped forty feet tothe ground. Instantly there arose a stream of profanity from the topof that sacred edifice. Came a chuckle at Belding's shoulder. 

"Unquestionably the effect of Ryan's cement, but it's going to hold ourchurch together. "

Glancing down, the mason caught sight of the black coated figure. Hisprofanity ceased abruptly. 

"Will you please throw me up that trowel, sir?"

The bishop laughed and the trowel gyrated skywards. "It makes me thinkof all that goes into the making of a church nowadays, " he saidthoughtfully. "By the way I wonder if my friend Mr. Clark will turn upnext Sunday. "

And Clark, to every one's surprise, did turn up, after most of St. Marys had seated themselves in the new oak pews. There was Dibbott, incarefully pressed light gray trousers, white waistcoat and a red flowerin his buttonhole; Mrs. Dibbott in spotless linen, for the day waswarm. Then the Bowers, the husband with his metropolitan manneracquired on frequent business trips to Philadelphia and converse withcity capitalists, his wife in silk and a New York hat, at which Mrs. Dibbott glanced with somewhat startled eyes. Things had gone well withthe Bowers. There were the Wordens, with Elsie and Belding, the latteraccepting whispered congratulations on his work but wanting only a lookwhich he could not draw from the girl beside him. Filmer was there, his black whiskers unusually glossy. He pulled at them caressingly andnow and again cleared his throat, for he was to sing the tenor solo. At the door, Manson hung about till old Dibbott, glaring amiably downthe isle, marched out and dragged the chief constable and his wife to afront seat. And last of all came Clark, who, slipping into a backcorner, refused to move. Then the old bell ceased swinging in the newstone tower and the service began. 

It was all very simple and touching. Filmer's melodious tenor neversounded better and the bishop's talk was straight to the point. Thispro-cathedral, built out of love and faith, he told them, linked theold days with the new. The labor of many, freely given, had gone intoit--here his kindly gaze dwelt for an instant on the gray-coated figurein the corner--and it augured well for the future. From this buildingmust spread the doctrine of charity and fellowship and courage. 

It was but for a few moments that he spoke, and when it was all overthe old bell rang joyously as though for a wedding. Belding tried tocatch Elsie's glance, but she only flushed and watched the majesticfigure of the bishop retire into the little vestry. He had adespondent impression that an impalpable barrier lay between them. Onthe way out they met Clark and the girl's eyes brightened miraculously. 

"Isn't it a charming church?" she said. 

Clark nodded. "It's very pretty. St. Marys owes a good deal to Mr. Belding for this. "

"He made the plans, I know, but think of all the people who gave thelabor and the things to build it with. "

Belding was about to blurt out that it was Clark who gave the things tobuild it with, but a swift signal imposed silence. 

"I know, it's excellent. You have not been at the works lately. "

"I was there last week. "

"And I was in Philadelphia. I'm sorry. "

She said good-by and, with Belding at her side, turned homeward, Clarklooked after them curiously, his eyes half closing as though to hide aquestion that moved in their baffling depths. 

The congregation dispersed slowly with the conviction that there hadbeen created one of those memories to which in later years thereflective mind delights to return. Quite naturally, and as they oftendid, Mrs. Manson and Mrs. Bowers dropped into the Dibbott house withits mistress. Dibbott was already there. He was about to start on oneof his official journeys, and just now was rooting things out of a backcupboard with explosive energy. 

"Well, " said Mrs. Bowers, folding her large, capable hands, "wasn't itlovely?"

The rumble of a street car sounded outside. "It revives old times, "Mrs. Manson said softly, "but I don't believe we've changed much. We're too bred in the bone. "

"Do we want the old times back?" asked Mrs. Bowers, to whom the pastyears had been kind. 

"For some things, yes, and for others, no. Living's a great deal moreexpensive, and my husband's income is just the same, " put in Mrs. Dibbott after a pause. "Taxes are up, and I'm not any happier though Isuppose I'm better informed. John won't sell the place though he hasbeen offered a perfectly splendid price, and it's noisy--but I like it, and there's the garden. Things don't happen to me--they just happenround me. "

"And you, my dear, " continued Mrs. Bowers with an inquisitive glance atthe chief constable's wife, "what about you? Your husband's supposedto have done better than any one except Mr. Filmer. "

The little woman flushed. She was perfectly aware that Manson wascredited with making his fortune, and perhaps he had. But she had noknowledge of it. For a while she knew he was dealing in property, andthen one morning he told her he had sold out. Her heart leaped at thenews, for Manson in the past year or so had changed. Invariablyaustere, he had been nevertheless kind and considerate--but soon afterthe real estate venture ended he became only austere, to which therewas added something almost like apprehension. And this in her husbandwas to her of intense concern. 

"I can't say, " she began a little timidly. "Peter has been telling mefor months he's going to resign and live at ease, but it's always amatter of waiting just a little longer. I can't help longing for theold days. Perhaps there was less comfort but--" she addedpathetically, "there was also less restlessness. I suppose I'm out ofdate. "

"Did you see Mr. Clark to-day?" broke in Mrs. Dibbott, changing thesubject with swift intuition. 

"Yes, the first time he has been in church. "

"He's not interested in us, " announced Mrs. Bowers, with the manner ofone who delivers an axiom, "not a little bit. St. Marys happens to bethe town near the works, and we happen to be the people in it, that'sall. "

Mrs. Dibbott's flexible fingers curved and met. "Why should he be? Wehaven't done anything for him, except allow him to shoulder the towndebt. And there isn't a woman alive who means anything to him, in onesense. He's in love--but with his work. There's no room for one ofus, and, if he had a wife we'd only discuss her like a lot of cats. Let's be honest--you both know we would. "

The others laughed and went their way, Mrs. Bowers to the big housenear the station. It had a new porch and an iron fence and was freshlypainted. In former days it never suggested personal resources as itdid now. A little later Mrs. Manson turned into the gravel walk thatled to the small stone annex of the big stone jail. Instead of goingupstairs, she stopped at her husband's office and knocked, as shealways did. 

"Come in, " boomed a deep voice. 

Manson was at his desk and still in his Sunday best. He had taken theflower out of his buttonhole and laid it on a printed notice of thenext assize court. She stood looking at him, their faces almostlevel--such was his great bulk. 

"Peter, " she said gravely, "I want to talk to you. "

Something in her manner impressed him and he pushed back his chair. "What is it?"

"We don't seem to have much time to talk nowadays. "

"There's no reason we shouldn't. "

"That's just it--but we don't. Now I want to ask you something and, Peter, you mustn't put me off--as you always do. 

"It's about ourselves, " she went on, with a long breath, "butprincipally about you--and it concerns the children. Everything'schanged and you're not what you used to be and something has comebetween us. I don't feel any more that we're the most important thingsin your life--as I used to. "

He shook his head grimly. "You're all more important than ever, if youonly knew it. " Manson had a faint sense of injustice. It was for themhe was wading through depths of anxiety. "You're shortly going to getthe surprise of your life, " he added with a note of triumphantconviction. 

"Is it money?" she said slowly. 

He nodded. "Yes, a pile of it. "

"I don't want any more money, Peter, I'd sooner have you. " The littlewoman's voice was very pleading. 

"Look here, Barbara, " he exploded, "I've made nearly thirty thousanddollars out of real estate. I got the money, you understand, but thegame was too stiff and took too much time, so I put that and what elseI could raise into stock--in Toronto. I've already made twentythousand more, that's fifty, and the last twenty was without any effortor time on my part. I've only got to leave it alone for another year, and I'll pull out with an even hundred thousand and retire and devotethe rest of my time to you and the children. Isn't that fair enough?"

"Do you say that you have already made fifty thousand dollars?" Shewas staring at him with startled and incredulous eyes. The sumstaggered her. 

"Yes, " he chuckled contentedly. 

She put her arms around his neck. "Then, Peter, " she implored, "stopnow. It's enough--it's marvelously more than I ever dreamed of. Oh!we can be so happy. "

He shook his head. "I've set my mind on the even hundred. Can't youstand another year of it?"

"I can, but not you, " she implored. "You don't know how you'vechanged. Peter, I beg you. "

"I've got to leave that fifty where it is to make the next, " he saidwith slow stubbornness. "I'll be the only man in St. Marys who waswise enough to make hay when the sun shone. You needn't be frightenedfor me. "

"I'm frightened for myself, " she answered shakily. "Won't you do whatI ask? Sometimes, " she ventured with delicate courage, "sometimes awoman can see furthest--though she doesn't know why. "

"A year from to-day you'll thank me for sticking it out, " came backManson stolidly. 

"And if it shouldn't turn out as you expect, " she replied with a lookthat was at once sudden and profound, "you'll remember that I beggedand you refused. "

The door closed noiselessly behind her and Manson stared at his deskwith a queer sense of discomfort. Consolidated stock had moved upbuoyantly on the news of the discovery of iron, and he had establishedfor himself with his Toronto brokers the reputation of a shrewdoperator who worked on the strength of inside information. In front ofhim were Toronto letters asking that his agent be kept informed ofdevelopments at St. Marys. It pleased him that this had been achievedoutside his own town and without its knowledge, and he saw himself aman who was vastly underestimated by his fellow citizens. But in spiteof it all he was daily more conscious of a worm of uncertainty thatgnawed in his brain. The thing was safe, obviously and demonstrablysafe. Against his thousands others had invested millions with which tobuttress the whole gigantic concern. And yet--!

XIV. --AN ANCIENT ARISTOCRAT VISITS THE WORKS

On a sunshiny day twelve miles down the river at the Indian settlement, old Chief Shingwauk, known in English as the Pine Tree, put on his bestbeaded caribou-skin moccasins and, motioning to his wife, moved slowlytoward the shore where a small bark canoe nestled in the long reeds. Afew moments later they slid silently up stream, the aged crone kneelingin the bow, a red shawl enveloping head and shoulders, her thin andbony arms wielding a narrow paddle with smooth agility. In the sternsquatted Shingwauk, his dark eyes deep in thought. 

Slowly they pushed up current, pausing now and again to peer unspeakinginto the woods, every ancient instinct still alive, though ninety yearshad passed since the old man and his wife were unstrapped from thestiff board cradles in which they once swung mummy-like in longforgotten camps. Shingwauk, his broad blade winnowing the clear water, reflected that this journey had been contemplated for many months, since first he heard that strange things were being done at the bigwhite water, and now it was well to see for himself, for the time wasapproaching when he would not see anything any more. 

It was years since he had been at St. Marys and he was very old, so heworked up stream carefully, skirting close to the shore in the backwater, hugging every point and sheering not at all into the strongcurrent of midstream. Thus for hours the canoe floated like a dry leafin the unruffled corner of a hidden pool, and in it the ancient pair, dry themselves with the searching seasons of nearly a hundred years. 

For five hours they paddled, then the last bend in the river and St. Marys lay three miles ahead. Naqua, in the bow, reached up a witheredhand, caught at an overhanging branch and their old eyes took in ascene familiar but yet strange. The sky line had changed, and up wherethe big white water crossed the river like a flat bar there was causefor wonderment. 

Presently Shingwauk tapped the thwart with the haft of his paddle andthey glided on, past the lower end of the town with its new houses andgardens, past a street car that moved like a noisy miracle with nothingto pull it, being evidently animated by some devil enchained, pastFilmer's dock where years before Shingwauk and Naqua used to bring minkand otter and marten for trade; past other docks newer and larger and atown bigger than anything they had ever conceived, and opposite whichsharp-nosed devil boats darted about or swung at anchor, across thedeep bay that lay between the town and the big white water, tillfinally they floated near the block-house and Shingwauk's eyes, gazingprofoundly at the massive proportions of Clark's buildings, caught thenarrow stone lined entrance to the little Hudson Bay canal. 

"How, " he grunted. 

The canoe slid delicately forward till presently it floated in the tinylock. Naqua said nothing, being seized by an enormous fear thatclutched at her stringly throat and held her silent, but Shingwauk feltsomething stirring in his breast. Here, surrounded by the confusedvibrations of the works, he resigned himself to ancient memories. Putting out a brown hand he touched the rough walls, and at the touchthe year rolled back. He saw himself a young man, the bow paddle of agreat thirty-foot canoe that came down through the broken waters of thebig lake to the rapids above, with the Hudson Bay factor enthroned inthe middle, surrounded by the precious takings of the winter. He sawOjibway faces, now long forgotten, and smelt the smoke of vanished campfires. He saw the thirty-foot canoe lowered delicately into just sucha lock as this, and automatically thrust out his own paddle to protecther tender tawny sides from the rough masonry. The hewn gates hadopened when he floated out, and here were the gates lookingnon-understandably new, and with the adze marks still on the yellowtimber. 

Involuntarily he cast about for the blockhouse and found it hard by. He looked at his own hands--they were knotted and wrinkled; he scannedthe twelve-foot canoe--it seemed small and hastily built of poor bark;he stared at the back of Naqua and reflected how bent and rounded itwas instead of being straight and strong and supple; he glanced up andwhere once there stretched green bush and small running streams nowstood things bigger than he had ever seen; he sniffed at the wind and, without knowing what it was, caught the sharp odor of metal andmachinery. Last of all, he lifted his gaze straight into the eyes of aman who stood staring down from the coping of the little lock. 

From the blockhouse window Clark had seen him since first the canoeapproached the shore. With a curious thrill he had watched the oldchief enter the tiny chamber and float motionless--a visitant from thepast. So complete was the picture and so almost poignant the pleasureit afforded, that, loath to mar it, he had hesitated to approach. Never had he conceived anything so intimately appropriate as thislinking of bygone days with the insistent present. 

They stared at each other, Clark's keen features suffused withinterest, Shingwauk's black eyes gazing lustrous from a dark bronzeface seamed with innumerable wrinkles. His visage was noble with theproud wisdom of the wilderness and the unnamable shadow of traditionsthat went back through uncounted centuries of forest life. Clark, recognizing it, felt strangely juvenile. Presently Shingwauk, withsome subtle intuition of who and what was the man who stood so quietly, waved his hand. The motion took in the works, the blockhouse, thecanal, in short the entire setting. 

"You?" he asked in deep, hollow tones. 

Clark nodded, smiling. "Yes, me. "

Shingwauk's eyes rounded a little. "Big magic, " he said impressivelyand relapsed into silence. 

"Hungry?" asked Clark presently. 

The old chief did not reply, being too moved by strange thoughts andthe rush of memory to feel anything else, but Naqua lifted a witheredhead in the bow. 

"Much hungry, " she croaked shrilly. 

Clark laughed and signaled to the blockhouse, where the Japanese cookwaited, peering from a window. Presently the latter came out carryinga tray. His narrow eyes were expressionless as he laid it on themasonry beside the canoe. Shingwauk glanced at him, puzzled over theflat, oriental features for a moment, and looked away. He seemed but aminor spirit in this great mystery. The old woman ate greedily, buther husband had no desire for food. He was experiencing a transitionso breathless that it could but mark the day of his own passing. Hewaited till Naqua finished such a meal as she had never seen before, his face gaunt but his eyes large and profound with the shadow ofunspeakable thoughts. Presently he dipped his blade in the untroubledwater, and the canoe backed out of the lock. 

"Boozhoo!" he said slowly, with one long look at Clark. 

"Good-by! Come again. "

The penetrating gaze followed the pigmy vessel as it dipped to thelarger stretch of the bay, dwindling with the glint of two blades thatflashed with clock-like regularity in the afternoon sun. Soon itreduced to a speck and was out of sight. Clark turned to his office, still contemplating the dignity of his visitor, the stark simplicity ofthis archaean aristocrat. How soon, after all, he pondered, might nothe himself and his works look aboriginal beside the achievements whichscience had yet to unfold to the world? Then, glancing across theriver, he stepped down to the dock and struck over in a fast launch. 

XV. --CLARK CONVERTS TORONTO

It is probable that Clark's invasion of the State of Michigan made moreimpression on the people of St. Marys than any other of his activities, even though it came in the midst of great undertakings. Here was thedefinite impression of a central power that stretched octopus arms fromout of their own town. Even Manson, who was recognized as the championpessimist, seemed impressed. But St. Marys remained for the most partstill inactive. The people looked on, admired the works, discussedeach new development, read much about their home town in outsidepapers, and that was in a general way about all. They saw in Clark aconstantly more arresting and suggestive figure. They had noddedapprovingly when he secured a private car for the use of himself, hisdirectors and shareholders, and considered it a natural thing when itwas announced that he was building upon the hill a large and expensiveresidence. The blockhouse, they pointed out, had long since become toosmall to accommodate his many and important visitors. 

St. Marys had physically changed. Old streets were paved with asphaltand new ones opened. The car line that ran up to the works branchedout across the railway into ground that a few years before was solidbush, but was now covered with substantial houses, occupied by a newpopulation. Parts of old St. Marys were left in the lurch because theowners refused to sell, Dibbott amongst them, and Worden, whose broadriver-fronting lawn was surrounded by the commercial section of therejuvenated town. Filmer's store had been enlarged twice, and socomplete was the popularity of the mayor that, with his sound businessinstinct, it still held place as the local emporium. 

At the terminus of the car line a new town had sprung up. In Ironvilledwelt the brawn and bone of the works. The place was not restful likeSt. Marys, but a heterogeneous collection of sprawling cabins, cornersaloons and grocery stores where the food was piled on sidewalk standsand gathered to itself the smoke and grime of the works when the windcame up from the south. Here were the Poles and Hungarians and Swedes, with large and constantly increasing families, and to them the sun roseand set in pulp mills and machine shops, blast furnaces and the like. They were mostly big men and strong, who sweated all day and came back, grimy, to eat and then spend the long evenings at the corner saloons orfishing in the upper bay, or sometimes taking the car down to St. Marys, and walking about surveying the comfortable old houses andcarefully kept lawns. And of Ironville, St. Marys did not think verymuch, save that it was dirty and unattractive and, unfortunately, quitea necessary evil. 

Back in the country new farms were cleared on heavily timbered land andthe farmers found instant market for all they could raise. But thebush still stretched unbroken a little further to the north, and whileClark's engineers spent millions to harness the mighty flow ofSuperior, the beaver were building their dams in a tamarac swamp notfive miles from the works. 

All this was indissolubly linked with Philadelphia. Parties ofshareholders, large and small, came up in special cars to inspect theplant. These visits were well organized. They found everything goingat full blast, everything was explained by the magnetic Clark and therefollowed banquets at the new hotel, when both shareholders anddirectors spoke and Filmer voiced the sentiments and pride of the town, and the shareholders went away a little staggered by the size andpotentiality of their business but determined to back Clark to thelimit and carrying away with them ineffaceable impressions of hisstrong and hypnotic personality. It was, after all, as they said, aone man show. 

Interest grew in Philadelphia, and thousands, swayed as though by thecompelling voice of the rapids, plunged deeper. The discovery of ironwas but one of the inviting incentives which, from time to time, stimulated support. Million after million was subscribed and sent tothis man who inspired such abounding faith in himself and his giganticplans. It may be that in one of those moments of profound insightwhich Clark periodically experienced, he became finally convinced thatlife was short and there must be, in his case at any rate, compressedinto it the maximum of human effort ere the day ran out. His brainoscillated between the actual work itself and those extraneous affairswhich might at some time affect it. 

Amongst those to whom his attention turned was Semple, member of theprovincial parliament, in whom he recognized the official voice of thedistrict in certain regions of authority. As the works grew in sizeand their importance increased, Semple found himself more and more thesubject of attention. It flattered him, as well it might, for at thistime the Consolidated Company was the largest single undertaking in thecountry. It did Semple good to refer to "my constituency" with thereflection that in the midst of that wilderness was an undertakingwhose capital surpassed that of the greatest railway in the Dominion. In the house of parliament he was listened to attentively, and in St. Marys his office took on a new significance. It was on one of hisinformal visits to the works that Clark expressed pleasure at the wayin which the community was represented. 

"I'm all right as far as this company is concerned, " said Semple, "butyou know the Liberal majority in Ontario is mighty slim--and I'm aLiberal. It's here to-day and gone to-morrow. "

"Not for you, " answered Clark impressively, "and you haven't had muchtrouble in getting what we wanted. "

"No, " grinned Semple, "our majority is too small. The Premier couldn'tvery well refuse. But, " he added with a little hesitation, "opinionsdiffer down there. "

"About the works?"

Semple nodded. "Yes, and about you--they're not true believers by anymeans, you must understand. "

Clark grunted a little. "What do they say?"

"It's more what they don't say, since they're mostly Scotch. I meanthe financial crowd--most of Toronto is like that. The Scotch gottheir hooks in long ago and it was a good thing for the country. Theyreckon it should take twenty-five years to build up a concern likethis--not five. You're too fast for that lot. "

"Ah! Perhaps I'd better go down and see them. "

Semple gazed in astonishment, then concluded he had not made the othersufficiently aware of the criticism as to himself and his affairs thatwas now so widely spread. 

"What's the object?" he blurted; "you've got all you want. "

Clark shook his head. "You don't understand me--and these people don'tunderstand their own country, --that's all. They don't believe itbecause they don't know it. They've never tried to know it. ToToronto the district of Algoma is a howling wilderness where there'sgood fishing and shooting. You may call Canadians pioneers, but someof them are the stickiest lot imaginable. I'm an American, but I havemore faith in their country than they have. "

"Just what do you propose to do?"

"What would you say was the most influential body of business andfinancial men?"

"The Toronto Board of Trade--without question; bankers, and, by theway, the president of your bank here is the president of the Board;manufacturers, brokers, commission men, --oh, most every one who isworth anything. "

"Then I'd better go and talk to them. There ought to be some Canadianmoney in this concern and there isn't a cent. The only thing we got inCanada was one hundred and thirty thousand dollars--but that wasdebt--St. Marys' debt--" laughed Clark. "We'll get some Canadiandirectors, too; I don't know but that new blood would be good for us. "

"Well, " hazarded Semple, "I'd like to be there. "

"You will. We'll go together as soon as it's arranged. You ought tobe there. They'll probably ask you to confirm what I assert. " Hetouched a bell and a moment later said to his secretary, "See Mr. Bowers and ask him to get in touch with our Toronto solicitors at once. I want them to arrange that I address the Toronto Board of Trade assoon as convenient to that body. I'll speak of developments inNorthern Ontario. You understand that this will not be a suggestionfrom me, but will come from them. Get the idea going in the Torontopapers. You might let it be known that a special car will leave forSt. Marys the evening of the address--with the Company's guests--that'sall. "

The door closed and he turned again to Semple. "I'm no prophet, but Idon't mind saying that a month from to-day your Conservative oppositionwon't be so stiff necked. Man alive! it's nothing but ignorance. Thisdistrict of yours--" he added very slowly, "is a bigger, richer thingthan even I imagined. "

Semple went away shaking his head doubtfully. He knew better thanClark that chilling regard with which Toronto financiers contemplatedan undertaking in which they had little faith. They were a cold-nosedgroup, immune, he considered, to the dramatic and strangers to anysudden impulse. And Clark, to their minds, was tarred with the samebrush as his undertakings. He might be big and imaginative, but he wasover impetuous and haphazard. 

Clark himself was disturbed by no discomfort, nor did he make anyspecial preparations for that address, and gave it as arranged some twoweeks later, and the manner and substance and effect of it will bevividly remembered by every man who was a member of that Board of Tradesome twenty-five years ago. There were the bankers and the rest ofthem, just as Semple had said, and Clark, surveying them from theplatform with steady gray eyes, knew what make of men they were andknew also that they had come there not so much with a thirst forknowledge about their own country as that they might coldly analyze himand that vast undertaking of which they had, as yet, but a fantasticand fragmentary knowledge. 

It is without question that the speaker had to an infinitely greaterextent than any of the men who stared at him through a blue haze ofcigar smoke, a fluid mind and the capacity for instantly seizing upon asituation and determining how to meet it. He possessed as well a voiceunrivaled in magnetic power and above all an unshakable faith in thepotentiality of the district in which he labored, so that, estimatingthe mental and professional characteristics of those he faced, Clarkbegan to talk in the coolest and most level way possible without anytrace of flamboyant enthusiasm. Touching first of all on thedevelopment of the far West, a subject with which, since much Torontomoney was involved, they were directly familiar, he diverted to St. Marys, describing Arcadia as he found it, the apparently unpromisingnature of the surrounding territory and his own conclusion as to itspossible future. Then the rapids became woven into his speech, thenucleus of power which made so many things possible. From this hemoved into the wilderness and before his listeners there began tounroll the north country in its primeval silence, broken only by theoccasional tap of a prospector's pick or the heavy crash of a moosethrough a cluster of saplings. And with the story of the wildernesscame that of pulp wood and great areas now tributary to St. Marys. Andafter the pulp mills came the discovery of iron. 

At this a stir went through the audience. In another part of the northcountry was Cobalt, that prodigious reservoir of silver, and it wasrealized that while Cobalt lay almost next door to Toronto, theCanadian investor had for the most part looked on incredulously, till, too late, he realized that the American had seized and acted withcharacteristic energy. And now the thing had happened again. 

"The iron was there, " went on Clark's voice with a subtle and impellingnote, "and it only took a year or so to find it. The country wasunexplored, that is, in a scientific manner, and no geological mapsworth anything were in existence. We have proved by now not less thanfifteen million tons of excellent ore. The formation near St. Maryscarries an abundance of limestone and the rapids furnish ample power. I think you will admit, gentlemen, that this is non-speculative. "

Then one by one he spoke of various phases of the works. In every casethe product was there--the merchantable produce--to prove the point;and the evident fact that Clark was actually selling goods over hisgigantic counter, coupled with the cool confidence of the man, was allthat was needed to convert an audience of critics into one of friendlybelievers. 

He saw the change as it took place. His voice lifted a little andbecame that of one crying in the wilderness. 

"What I have been able to do any man can do. If you don't believe init, other people do; if you don't develop it, other people will. FromCanada we have moved across to Michigan and are developing power on thesouth side of the river. You Canadians could have done all this. In afew months Canadian railways will be buying steel rails made of Ontarioore, but the rails will be made and sold by Americans in Ontario. Gentlemen, all I ask is that you have faith in your own country, asmuch faith as has been shown by your neighbors across the line. YourDominion is now what the United States was fifty years ago and we didnot waver. The capital of our allied companies is twenty-seven milliondollars. It comes, every cent of it, from Philadelphia. We do notneed your money, but will welcome any who wish to join us. Once again, gentlemen, and last of all, have faith in your own country!" Then, with a graceful acknowledgment of the assistance of Semple and theOntario Government, he sat down. 

For a moment there was silence, till came applause, moderate at first, as befitted the meeting, but swelling presently into great volume. Louder and deeper it grew while Clark sat still with the least flush onhis usually colorless cheek and a keen light in his gray eyes. He hadtouched them to the quick, touched them not only by his own evidentfaith and courage, but also by his superlative energy and theinexorable comparison he had made. It was true! Cobalt was nearlylost to them, and now the iron of Algoma had passed into other hands. Old bankers and financiers cast their minds back and were surprised atthe number of similar instances they recalled. And here was Clark, theprotagonist, Clark the speculator, Clark the wild man fromPhiladelphia, demonstrating in the cold language to which they wereaccustomed and which they perfectly understood, that he had done thesame thing over again and on a more imposing scale than ever before. 

The dénouement was what he had anticipated and what invariably takesplace when men with calculating and professionally critical brains arefor the first time profoundly stirred by a supremely magnetic spiritthat appeals not to their emotions but to those instincts in which thememory of lost opportunities is effaced by confidence in futuresuccess. There was, too, a general feeling that Clark in the past wasmisunderstood. They had been hard on him. It was strange for men whowere daily besought to invest in this or that to be told that theirmoney was not asked for; that, as Clark had put in--the job was nearlydone, capital expenditure nearly over and steady returns about tobegin. And these returns, they reflected, would go straight out of thecountry to Philadelphia. All this and much more was moving throughtheir minds when the president moved a vote of thanks which wastumultuously carried, whereupon Clark announced that the private carwould leave that night for St. Marys, and that he and Mr. Semple wouldaccompany such visitors as cared to spend a day or two at the works. 

That afternoon he sent a short letter to his mother. "I have beengiving a talk on Toronto--it went quite well, " he wrote in closing. "Canadians do not attract, but certainly interest me. There's muchunderneath that needs work to discover, and I have so little time forwork of that kind. "

He glanced at the last sentence and nodded approvingly. PerhapsCanadians were too Scotch to be spontaneous. They were worthy, headmitted, but the word implied to him certain attributes that made lifea little difficult, and, he silently concluded, a little cold. Hewould have desired them to be a trifle less deliberate and a shade moreresponsive. He felt that, however, he might persuade they would neverfundamentally understand him, and perceived in this the cause of thatcondescension he had observed in so many Canadians toward the American. It did not worry him in the slightest as an American. He put it downto that self-satisfaction which is not infrequently acquired byself-made men in the process of their own manufacture, and to remnantsof that cumulative British arrogance of forebears who had for centuriesled the world. 

Early next morning the private car swung through the mining district ofSudbury. Clark's Toronto visitors were still asleep, but he was up anddressed and on the rear platform. The district, covered once by agreen blanket of trees, now seemed blasted and dead. Close by weregreat piles of nickel ore, from which low clouds of acrid vapor roseinto the bright air. Clark knew that the ore was being laboriouslyroasted in order to dissipate the sulphur it contained, prior tofurther treatment. 

The scene, naked and forbidding, struck him forcibly, and the greatmining buildings towering in the midst of the desolation they hadcreated looked like ugly castles of destruction. He had noted theplace often before, but this morning, refreshed by the incidents of theprevious day, his mind was working with unexampled ease and insight. Here, he reflected, two things of value--sulphur and vegetation--werebeing arduously obliterated. It suddenly appeared fundamentallyagainst nature, and whatever violated nature was, he held, fundamentally wrong. 

The train stopped for a few moments and, jumping from the platform, heran across to the nearest pile. Here he picked up several pieces ofore fresh from the mine, inhaling as he stood the sharp and killingfumes. At St. Marys he made but one kind of pulp--mechanical pulp--inwhich the soft wood was disintegrated by revolving stones against whichit was thrust under great pressure. But he had always desired to makeanother kind of pulp, so now he thrust the ore samples in his pocketand climbed back into the private car. 

Two days later the chief chemist of the works stood beside the generalmanager's desk looking from the nickel samples into Clark's animatedface. 

"These are from Sudbury, " the latter was saying, "where they wastethousands of tons of sulphur a year, and it costs them a lot to wasteit. I want the sulphur to make sulphite pulp. "

"Yes?" The reply was a little uncertain. 

"To buy what we want is out of the question at the present price. InAlabama and Sicily they are spending a lot of money to get sulphur; inSudbury they're spending a lot of money to get rid of it. The thing isall wrong. "

"Have we any nickel mine, sir?"

"No, but that's the small end of it. I want you to analyze this oreand see if you can devise a commercial process for the separation ofnickel from sulphur and save both. If you can, I'll buy a mine. Incidentally we'll produce some pretty cheap nickel. Get busy!"

The chemist nodded and went out, and Clark, glancing after him, fellinto profound contemplation. He himself was neither engineer, chemistnor scientist, but had a natural instinct for the suitable uses ofphysical things. Thus, though without any advanced technical training, his brain was relieved from any consciousness of difficulties whichmight be encountered in the working out of the problems he set forothers with such remarkable facility. He was, in truth, a practicalidealist, who, ungrafted to any particular branch of effort, embarkedon them all, radiating that magnetic confidence which is the chiefincentive toward accomplishment. 

The visit of the Toronto financiers had been a success. Clark wentround with them, unfolding the history of the works. Nor was this byany means the first tour he had made with similar intent. It was nowan old story with him to watch the faces of men reflect their gradualsurrender to the spell of his mesmeric brain. What the Torontonianssaw was physical and concrete, and, as their host talked, theyperceived the promise of that still greater future which he had putbefore them. Here, they decided, was not a speculation, but aninvestment of growing proportions. Then from the works to thebackwoods by the new railway, where was iron by millions of tons andpulp by millions of cords, the foundations on which were built thegigantic structures at St. Marys. So they had gone back in the glow ofthat sudden conversion which in its nature is more emotional than theslow march of a purely intellectual process, Clark smiled a little atthe thought. He had seen it all so often before. 

A little later a knock sounded at his door and Fisette entered, stepping up to the desk, one brown hand in his pocket. Clark glancedat him. 

"Well, mon vieux?"

The half-breed laid on the desk half a dozen pieces of bluish grayrock. They were sharp, angular and freshly broken. Through them ranyellow threads, and floating in their semi-translucent depths were fineyellow flakes. 

"Gold, " said Fisette quietly. 

XVI. --GOLD, ALSO CONCERNING A GIRL

Clark stared at the fragment of rock with a sudden and divine thrill. Gold! the _ultima thule_ of the explorer. He had erected vast works togain gold, not for himself for he desired no wealth, but for others, and here the precious thing lay in his hand. His heart leaped and theblood rushed to his temples while his eyes wandered to the impassiveface of Fisette. Who and what was the breed that he could be so calm?

Out of a riot of sensations he gradually reëstablished his customaryclearness of vision. Here was additional evidence of the inherentwealth of the country. It was that for which men dared death and periland hardship, and it struck him that it would be a dramatic thing toship steel rails and pulp and gold bullion on the same day. 

But for all of this he was not carried away. However great the thrill, his mind could not be diverted by the discovery of a quartz vein. Heknew, too, that mining of this character was a tricky thing and thatnature, as often as not, left the shelves of her storehouses empty whenby all the rules of geology they ought to be laden. He would exploreand develop the find, but its chief value, he ultimately decided, waspsychological, and would be seen in the continued support of hisfollowers. Presently he looked up and caught the disappointed eyes ofFisette. 

"It's all right, mon vieux, " he said with an encouraging smile, "andit's very good. How far from the railway?"

"About six mile. " Fisette's voice was unusually dull. 

"And you have it all staked and marked and dated?"

"Yes, I'm not one damn fool. "

Clark laughed outright. "Of course not--but listen--you remember whenyou found the iron last year what I told you?"

"You told me to keep my mouth shut. I keep it. "

"That's right. And now I want you to keep your mouth open. "

Fisette gasped. "What you mean?"

"I mean this. You told nobody about the iron, now you go and telleverybody about the gold. Shout about it. The more you tell thebetter. The whole town can prospect on our concession if they want to. I hope every one of them will find gold. I'll come out myself nextweek and see what you've turned up, and of course you get for it what Igave you for the iron last year. Au revoir, mon vieux, and when you goto town, talk--talk--talk! But just wait a minute in the outsideoffice. "

Fisette backed silently out, his dark brow pinched into puzzledwrinkles. He had expected his patron to take the samples and stare atthem and then at him with that wonderful look he remembered so well andcould never forget; a look that had made the breed feel strangely proudand happy. He had often seen it since when, quite alone in the woods, he peered through the gray smoke of his camp fire and imagined hispatron sitting just on the other side. And now he was to go into St. Marys and do nothing but talk! He shook his head doubtfully. 

No sooner had the door closed than Clark summoned the superintendent ofhis railway department. 

"Fisette has found gold out near the line. There's going to be a rush, and you'd better get ready for it. Also you'd better run up some kindof an hotel at Mile 61, --it's the jumping off place. That'sall--please send Pender here. "

A moment later he turned to his secretary. 

"Fisette is waiting outside. Talk to him, he's found gold. Get thestory and give it to the local paper. Say that I've no objection toprospectors working on our concession, and that I'll guarantee title toanything they find. Get in touch with the Toronto papers and let themhave it too. That's all. "

The door closed again and, with a strange feeling of restlessness, hewalked over to the rapids, seating himself close to their thunderingtumult. What message had the rapids for him now? And just as thevoice of irresistible power began to bore into his brain he noticed agirl perched on a rock close by. Simultaneously she turned. It wasElsie Worden. 

She waved a hand, and he moved carefully up stream over the slipperyboulders. She looked at him with startled pleasure. It was unlikeClark to move near to any one. 

"I hope I'm not trespassing. "

"No, " his voice came clearly through the roar of many waters; "do youoften come here?"

She smiled. "It's the most conversational place I know. "

The gray eyes narrowed a little. "You have discovered that the rapidstalk back?"

"They have told me all kinds of things ever since I was a child. Whendid you find it out?" Elsie's voice lifted a little. 

"The very first day I reached St. Marys, almost the first hour. " Hewas wondering inwardly why he should talk thus to any one. 

"I'm so glad, " she answered contentedly, "because they must have toldyou to do many things, and you've done them. But I can't half answerwhat they say to me. "

Clark studied her silently. Her face was not only beautiful butsupremely intelligent, and had, moreover, the signet of imagination. She was, he concluded, utterly truthful and courageous. 

"I wonder you get time to come here at all, " she hazarded after athoughtful pause. 

"It is time well spent. " He pointed to the heaped crests in midstream. "The solution of many a problem lies out there; I've got one to thinkof now. "

Had Elsie been an ordinary girl she would have disappeared forthwith, but between them sped something that convinced her that he wanted herto stay. 

"Am I allowed to know what it is?"

"It's this. " Clark took a fragment of rock from his pocket and laid itin her palm. 

"What is it?" she said curiously. 

"Gold!"

"Oh!" The color flew to her cheeks and her eyes became very bright. "Where did it come from and who found it?"

"About sixty miles from here, and Fisette found it--he's one of myprospectors. "

"He's the man who discovered iron for you?"

"Yes. "

"How very extraordinary, " she said under her breath. 

"Why should it be?"

"The last time we talked you had just found iron, and now it's gold. This is even more wonderful, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "It's pretty--but not nearly so important. "Something in the girl's manner attracted him strangely and he went ontalking as he seldom talked. Her eyes never left his face. 

"Yes, " she said presently, "I'm glad to understand. But the strangething to me is that all these people, " here she pointed towards theworks, "are doing things they would not have done if you hadn't come. Why is that?"

"Some people think that the most successful man is the one who getsothers to work the hardest for him, " said Clark, smiling. 

She shook her head. "That doesn't suit. I know what it is. "

"Do you?"

"It's vision. " There was a thrill in her low voice. Then she added, very swiftly, "You haven't many friends, have you, Mr. Clark?"

He stared at her in surprise, and in the next instant decided that shewas right. "Why do you ask that?"

"Because you must see past most people, don't you, to what is ahead?It is hard to put just what I mean into words. "

He nodded gravely. "It is quite true that I haven't any very closepersonal friends, I've moved about too quickly to make them. As for myemployees, I see them chiefly through their work. "

"Then you don't really know them, " she announced. 

"Possibly, --but I know their results. It sounds a little inhuman, doesn't it?"

"I think I understand. " Elsie was tempted to probe this gray-eyed manabout Belding, but presently gave it up. She was conscious that whileshe was talking to Clark the figure of the engineer faded into thebackground. 

"So there's really no one?" she went on reflectively. 

"Only my mother, " he said gravely, "that is, so far. "

At that her heart experienced a new throb. He was infinitely removedfrom any man she had ever dreamed of. 

"Are you never lonely?"

"Perhaps I am, " he replied with utter candor, "but I fill my life withthings which to most people are inanimate, though to me they are verymuch alive. And what about yourself?"

"I don't know. " Her voice was a little unsteady. She had a swiftconviction that Clark was essentially kind, as well as a great creator. "You want this, don't you?" She held out the piece of ore while theflakes of gold shone dully in the sun. 

"Please keep it, the first bit out of what I hope will make a mine. And I hope you will have iron as well as gold in your life. "

She glanced at him genuinely touched. "Can it really matter to you?"

"Why shouldn't it?"

"The first time I met you I was a little afraid of you. "

Clark chuckled. "Am I so formidable?"

"Not to me any more. Perhaps it is because we understand the samethings. " She pointed to the rapids. "This, for instance. "

"Would you tell me just what you hear out there. "

She shook her head doubtfully. "There are no words for most of it, butI seem to catch the voices of things that want to be expressedsomehow. " Then, with sudden breathlessness, "It's a universallanguage--like music. "

"That's it, " he said soberly, "it has all the majors and minors. " Heregarded the girl with quickening interest. What was the elementalnote in her that responded to this thundering diapason?

"It's a voice crying in the wilderness, " she continued in the same lowtone, then, with a smile, "at least it was a wilderness before youcame. I wonder if you would do--" she broke off suddenly, her eyesbrilliant. 

"Tell me, and I'll do it. "

She clapped her hands. "I wish you would visit us all when we gocamping next month; you'd like it. "

"I'm sure I would, but--"

"But what? I knew there'd be something. "

"I'd have to take the works with me. "

"But you said you'd do it. " She glanced at him as though confidencewere shattered. 

"Then I will, if it's humanly possible. "

"It will be about a hundred miles down the lake, near ManitoulinIsland. Father knows. "

"I'm glad father knows, " he smiled. 

The girl walked slowly back with the feeling that she had seen furtherinto the heart of this remarkable man than ever before. Opposite theblockhouse, at which she looked with a strange sensation, she metBelding, swinging in from the far corner of the works with a transitover his shoulder. She seemed thoughtful and distrait, and he glancedat her puzzled. 

"Been exploring? I didn't know you were coming up. "

"I didn't know either, " she said a little nervously. "Will you comeback to lunch?"

"Sorry, I'm too busy. Where have you been?"

"Over at the rapids. And, Jim, see what Mr. Clark gave me. "

"Gold?" he said sharply. 

"Yes, isn't it wonderful?"

"Who found it?"

"One of Mr. Clark's prospectors, Fisette. "

"And who told you?"

"Mr. Clark himself. " The girl had a sudden sense of discomfort. Whywas Belding so inquisitive?

"I haven't heard anything about it, " he said shortly. 

"No one has outside of the office, except myself. "

"But why should Clark tell you?"

"I don't know. Why shouldn't he?"

Belding thrust the legs of his instrument into the ground. "I have anidea that he's telling you too much. " The young man's eyes were hotwith resentment. 

"Jim, how dare you!"

"Well, where do I come in? You haven't been much interested in me thelast year or so. "

She flushed. "That's not fair. You know how fond I am of you. "

"But Clark doesn't need you--and I do. "

"Do you object to my having friends?" she said tremulously. 

"Elsie, will you marry me to-morrow?" Belding's voice was shaky but indeadly earnest. 

"What nonsense. "

He shook his head. "It isn't to me, --I mean it. There is no one else. There never will be. Can't you realize that?"

"I don't want to be married--now--" she said slowly. 

He snatched up his transit. "Thanks, I thought it would come to that. "He took off his hat very formally and strode on. In his angry brainburned the thought that the sooner Clark came to grief, the soonerElsie would get rid of this illusion. And then, as always, the braveand loyal soul of him sent out a silent protest. 

By now the wires were humming, and through St. Marys the news ran likequicksilver. In years past there had been individual discoveries bywandering bushmen, but none of them of value. Tales were afloat thatold Shingwauk down at the settlement knew of a gold bearing vein, andthat the knowledge would die with him. But at the formal announcementthat the Consolidated had found gold, it was universally believed thatit was of a necessity a bigger and better thing than ever before, andcarried with it all the reputation of Clark's immense undertaking. 

So began the rush to the woods. It was not one in which tenderfeetdeserted their jobs and took to the hills, but a stirring amongst thestiff bones of old prospectors who had given up the fight but were nowinfused with new courage. In Fisette they saw the man who had won outfor the second time while they sat and smoked. There was a seeking outand sharpening of picks blunted by inumerable taps on forgotten ridges, and a stuffing of dunnage bags, and a sortie to Filmer's store forflour and bacon and a few sticks of forty per cent. Dynamite, andpatching of leaky shoe packs. Twenty-four hours later the littlestation up at the works was crammed with men whose leathern faces werealight with an old time joy, and whose eyes sparkled with the flame ofa nearly extinguished fire. After them came others from greaterdistance, then peddlers and engineers representing mining firms insearch of properties, and keepers of road houses where the lamps burnedall night, and there were women and songs and whiskey that flouted thepeace of the forest. And with all this the traffic returns of theConsolidated Company's railway leaped up, and Fisette, who was incharge of a dozen men stripping his find of roots and earth and moss, began to hear all round him, both near and far, the dull thud ofblasting and the faint clink of hammer on steel. 

But it was a month before the general manager's private car slid intothe siding at Mile 61, where Clark, descending, found Fisette waitingfor him, and together they stepped out for the discovery. Here andthere along the trail other prospectors fell in silently behind. Theywanted to see Clark when he got the first glimpse of the vein. Arriving a little breathless, he looked down at the bluish, whitestreak that nakedly crossed a little ridge, clipped to a ravine oneither side, and reappeared boldly further on. Fisette picked upsamples from time to time, at which his patron glanced, and finally, taking mortar and pan, crushed a fist full of ore and washed itdelicately, till a long tapering tail of yellow metal clung to therounded angle of the pan. And at that Clark asked a few questions ofthe mining engineer who had come with him, nodded contentedly andstarted back, leaving Fisette with the pan still in his muscular hands. 

That night the breed squatted by his camp fire, too offended to smokeand wondering dumbly why his patron had left so soon and said solittle, for this was a day to which he had looked forward for weeks. He did not dream that Clark was even that moment thinking of him as theprivate car clicked evenly over the rail joints on the way to the ironmines. And this indeed was the case, for in the first tide of the rushof gold seekers Clark had discerned the workings of an ancient rule. Always it had been gold which inflamed the human mind to endure to theuttermost. His imagination went back, and he saw the desperate influxheading for California, for Australia, for South Africa, that mob ofadventurous spirits for whom there burned nightly over the hills thelambent promise of the morrow, strengthening and invigorating tofurther effort. He saw this mob lose itself in forest, mountain, plainand canyon, a wild-eyed herald of civilization. He saw roads andbridges, farms and villages take form along the trail it traversed, till, slowly but inexorably, the wilderness was conquered, and the sonsof the pioneers sat in contentment under their own roof-tree in fullpossession of a wealth greater by far than that their ancestors hadcome to seek. But it was gold with its yellow finger that firstbeckoned the way. 

Next day, at the iron mine, he stood listening to the deep cough of thebig crusher and the loose rattle of machine drills. A little on oneside, and as yet unshaken by dynamite, was the knoll on which Wimperleyand the rest had been told what they were sitting on, and he smiled atthe recollection. Surveying the widening excavation, he reflected thathere, after all, was the heart of the entire enterprise. In fifty--ina hundred years--the mine would still be unexhausted. It did not seemromantic like Fisette's vein of gold ore, this barren-looking upheaval, but to him the romance of a thing was in its potentiality and not itsappearance, and it moved in his mind now that there was every reasonfor haste. Philadelphia was beginning to weary of capital expenditure, and demanded an output of steel rails at the earliest possible moment. 

Completing his round with a visit to Baudette's headquarter camp, heinspected train loads of pulp wood ready for the mills. The areasoriginally secured were nearly denuded and Baudette was forced furtherafield. The mills were doing and had always done well, but theirprofits were so instantly absorbed by allied and interlinkedundertakings that Clark at times wondered whether he was asking onedollar to do too much. He reflected with a touch of surprise that thesmall company formed to supply St. Marys with water and light was, after all, the only one which from the first had actually disburseddividends. But the rail mill would settle all that. Returning to theworks he found a note on his desk that Townley, the chemist, would likeaudience. He sent for him. 

"Well?" he demanded impatiently; "what about that sulphur?"

Townley submitted a condensed report. "We can get it out at a cost ofabout half the market price. " He spoke with a note of triumph. He hadbeen slaving over the problem with the sacrificial zeal thatcharacterizes all keen chemists. But Townley did not know, and it wasimpossible for him to know, that many things are feasible in alaboratory which are irreducible to commercial terms. 

Clark nodded as though he expected this. "Bring Belding in here. "

When the engineer appeared, he went on, "We're going to do somethingnew. Townley will give you his end of it, and you work out the rest. It's chemical engineering, so get any assistance you need. Give meestimates of costs and say how soon the plant can be put up. Figure ona hundred tons of sulphite pulp per day--dry weight. That's all. "

The two went out, and he leaned back, pressing his finger tips hard onhis lids, and finding in the red blur that followed something thatsoothed and rested his eyes. He was not one who sought out problemsand chased them to their solution, but rather one who perceived theproblem and, by singularly acute vision, perceived also the solutionjust behind it. There were so many things that were overlooked byothers but presented themselves to him for attention, that he had longsince ceased to wonder why the world was full of men he consideredineffectual. Now he ran rapidly over the existing situation, marshaling his various undertakings in due order, when there sounded inhis head something that seemed like the tearing of a piece of cloth. He drew a long breath, experiencing for the first time in his life asense of intolerable weariness. And then, suddenly he thought of Elsie. 

It was strange that he should think of her now--there were so manyother and insistent things. Wimperley and the rest had come up tocongratulate him and gone away elated but at the same time puzzled thathe should regard the discovery with such apparent indifference. It wastrue that creditors were becoming pressing, but the rail mill, it wasuniversally admitted, would pull the thing through. Now a reaction setin and he longed for a little solitude. It lay in his mind that justover the horizon was something more inviting than all that had takenplace. 

An hour later he was in the bow of a big tug, heading down stream, having left orders that he must not be disturbed. As the greenlandscape slid by he gave himself over to retrospection, and his mindwandered comfortably back through all the stages of the past years. Surveying the folk of St. Marys, he concluded that only Filmer andBowers had been active supporters from the start. He would rememberthat. Came a voice at his elbow. It was the master of the tug. 

"Where to, sir?"

"A hundred miles from here there's a camping party. Find them. "

They anchored that night in a long and narrow inlet where the tremblingreflection of the tug's funnel lay beside the mirrored tops of pinetrees that clung to the rocky shore. Ahead and behind was the openlake. There was no sound but the twitter of sleepy birds and the honkof a startled heron that winged its flight to solitudes still moreremote. Then Clark began to fish, and, just as he landed a five poundbass, a girl's voice sounded clearly while a canoe floated round anearby point. Elsie was in it and alone. 

XVII. --THE GIRL IN THE CANOE

She stared at him with undisguised astonishment. "Good evening, " helaughed. "Here I am!"

The girl grew rather pink. "Isn't it wonderful that you really foundus?"

"I didn't, the captain found you. "

"It's hard to think of you as--well--just here. "

"I came down for a day or two off. For the first time in years, I'veforgotten all about the works. "

"I'm glad, and do you--"

At that instant there came from between Clark's feet a mighty thump, and the big bass, curving its spiney back, leaped clear of the boat andlanded in the brown water with a splash. A flip of the broad tail andit vanished. 

"You've lost your fish!" exclaimed Elsie, aghast. 

"Perhaps you lost it, but it doesn't matter. "

"Is that the way you feel, just slack and careless?"

"Just like that. "

"I knew you had a mind above fish, " she laughed. 

"That's a distinction, because few fishermen have. Now I'd like tothank you again for your note of a few weeks ago. "

"Do you really remember that?" she said earnestly. 

He nodded, and over him came a slow conviction that there was an avenueof life he had never traversed and which seemed to be, after all, moreinviting than he had allowed himself to believe. Elsie was yearsyounger than Clark, but just now the latter felt strangely young. 

"Do you recollect finding out that I had but a few personal friends?"

"Yes, of course. "

"Well, " he said thoughtfully, "I would like another. "

"Oh!" She stared at him, her startled eyes full of light. 

"You don't mind, I hope?"

The canoe drifted like a leaf towards his heavy boat, but Elsie'spaddle was motionless. 

"It would make me very happy. But could I really do anything for you?It has always seemed that, " she hesitated and her lips becametremulous, "that you didn't need any one. " Then she added under herbreath, "like me. "

Clark's face was grave. "And if I did?"

She looked at him with growing fascination. Surrounded by the giganticthings of his own creation he was impressive, but here in the solitudeshe took on even more suggestive characteristics. She stretched out aslim brown hand. 

"You will find me very difficult sometimes, I warn you now. "

"I like difficult things, they seem to come my way. "

The languid hours sped by. Clark swam, fished, paddled with the girl, entertained her party in the tug's white painted saloon, and chattedwith Mrs. Dibbott, the chaperon, about St. Marys. But most of all heexplored the mind of Elsie Worden. It was like opening successivedoors to his own intelligence. She startled him with her intuition, delighted him with her keen sense of humor, and seemed to grasp theman's complex nature with superlative ease. And, yielding to hercharms, Clark, for the first time in his life, felt that he must goslow. It was a new country to him. Previous experience had left nolandmarks here. 

They were drifting lazily along the shore, miles from the others, whenElsie, after a long pause, glanced at him curiously. 

"Will you tell me just what you find in music?"

"But I don't know anything about it. "

"Perhaps not, but you feel it, and that's what counts. I've only heardyou play twice. "

"Once, " he corrected. 

"No, I was out on the bay one night, below the blockhouse, when youwere playing. " Belding's name was on the girl's lips but at the momentBelding did not fit and she went on evenly, "It is something like therapids. "

"I'm glad you think that. It's the response that one gets. "

"That's what I feel. You're an American, aren't you?"

"Yes. "

"I thought so. You see your people are more responsive than we are, and you don't seem so ashamed of enthusiasm. "

"We can't help it, but it's a little awkward sometimes, " his eyestwinkled, "that is in Canada. Now talk about yourself. "

"There's so little to say. I was asleep for years like every one elsein St. Marys, till you came and woke us all up. 

"And then?"

"I realized that life was rather thin and that I wanted a lot of thingsI'll never get. "

"Why never, --and what do you want?"

"To be part of something bigger than myself, " said the girl very slowly. 

Clark felt an answering throb. That was what he had felt and wantedand achieved. 

"To feel what the world feels and know something of what the worldknows, " she added intensely. "I want to work. "

"That sounds strenuous. "

She flushed a little. "Won't you take me seriously?"

"I beg your pardon. As a matter of fact I've always taken youseriously. "

"Have you, why?"

"Perhaps because I don't know anything about your sex, " he answeredteasingly. "I never had time, --they're sealed books to me. "

"So this is your first exploring trip?"

"The very first, --and it's not at all what I expected. "

A question moved in Elsie's eyes but she did not speak. Clark, takingin the supple grace of her figure and expanding to the candor of herspirit, wondered if now, at the apex of his labors, the color of hisfuture life was being evolved by this girl who was as free anduntainted as the winds of Superior. He had at times attemptedfriendships of another kind and found them unsatisfying and ponderedwhether this might not be the human solution of that loneliness whichhe had admitted to her, months before, was only so far assuaged bydriving himself to the uttermost. Then her voice came in again. 

"It was so queer meeting you here, just as if the voice of the rapidshad carried a hundred miles. I always associate you with the rapids. "

"But they'll go on forever, and I won't. "

"You're doing something better than that, " she said swiftly. 

He laid down his paddle. "I'd like very much to know just what my newfriend means. "

"You're touching the hidden springs of things that will go on forever. "Elsie's voice was vibrant with feeling. "That's the difference betweenyou and other men I know. You're in the secret. "

Clark drew a long breath. "When did you decide that, and why?"

"When I heard about your speech that first night. I was only seventeenthen but I felt almost as if you'd told me the secret. So I'vefollowed all you've accomplished since, and I would give anything tohave done just the littlest part of it. "

"So it's just a matter of recognizing one's destiny and following it?"he said curiously. 

"Just that. " Complete conviction was in her tones. 

"Then, for the first time in my life, I'm wondering what destiny has instore for the immediate future, " he said with a long stare of his grayeyes, and in them was that which set her heart throbbing. 

"You must go to-morrow?" she ventured. Could such wonderful momentsever be repeated?

"Yes, at sunrise, and I'll be at the works at noon. Do you know thatyou've done a lot for me? It's a selfish remark, but it's true, andmay we have another talk when you get back?"

Her lips trembled, and Clark, gazing at her, felt an intense yearning. She was very beautiful and very understanding. Then again hehesitated. There were things, many things, he had in mind to arrangebefore he spoke. A few weeks would make no difference, but onlyprolong those delightful and undecipherable sensations to which he nowyielded luxuriously. If this was love, he had never known love before. 

The sun's red orb was thrusting up over the glassy lake when, nextmorning, the big tug with a slow thudding of her propeller, moved fromher anchorage. At Clark's orders they passed on down the channel, andjust where the lake began to broaden was a cluster of white tents. TwoIndians were warming their fingers at a rekindled fire. Clark staredhard, and lifted his hat. 

One of the tent flaps had been opened, and a girl stood against a snowybackground, her hair hanging loose. As the tug drew abreast she wavedgood-by, and, for another mile, till he swung round the next point, hecould see the slim figure and its farewell salutation. There wassomething mystical about it all. The girl vanished abruptly behind ascreen of trees, the propeller revolved more rapidly, and the sharpswish of cleft water deepened at the high, straight bow. 

He stood for a long time immersed in profound thought, and oblivious ofthe keen air of early morning. Never before had he found it hard to goback to duty. 

Six hours later the tug swept into the St. Marys River, and three milesahead lay the works, the vast square-topped buildings rising, itseemed, out of the placid waters of the bay. He drew a long breath andemerged from fairyland. Had he created all this? Yet it was not morereal than something he had just left and had also created. 

XVIII. --MATTERS FINANCIAL

The young manager of the local bank through which Clark transacted hisaffairs sat late one night in his office. He had just returned fromdinner at the big house, where he left his host in an unusually genialand communicative mood. It seemed that Clark's mind, tightened withthe continued strain of years, had wished to slacken itself in an houror two of utter candor, and Brewster had listened with fullconsciousness that this was an occasion which might never be repeated. But in his small cubicle, walled in with opaque glass, Clark's magneticaccents appeared to dwindle before the inexorable character of thestatement Brewster now scrutinized. It was the detailed and financialhistory of each successive company, a history in which birth and bonesand articulation were clearly set forth, and what struck the young manmost forcibly was the extraordinary way in which each was interlinkedwith the rest. The combined capital of all was, he noted, twenty-sevenmillion dollars, and greater than that yet reached by the CanadianPacific Railway. Brewster had known it before, but the bald andcumulative figures in front of him made the fact the more momentous. 

Probing still deeper, it became apparent that while the pulp mills madesteady profits, these were so adjusted as to form but one link in achain. In all there were some ten companies, each drawing from theothers its business and its surplus. Clark had not been far wrong whenhe reflected that he might be asking one dollar to do too much, and nowthe sharp brain of the young manager was coming to the same conclusion. Behind his office building passed Clark's steamships, for there was atransportation company, and into the wilderness Clark's trains plungedwith unfailing regularity. Up at the works the blast furnaces werevomiting flame and smoke, and the rail mill was nearly completed. Baudette was sending down train loads and rafts of wood, and at theiron mine dynamite was lifting thousands of tons of ore. The entireaggregation of effort and expenditure had been so systematicallyinterwoven that Brewster there and then decided that if one link in thechain should part, the whole fabric of the thing would dissolve. Itwas true that he made no advances without authority from hisheadquarters, but he had long been aware that Clark's was the largestcommercial account in Canada and, he reflected gravely, it all wentthrough his own office. Two days later he reached Toronto, and askedaudience of his general manager. 

Now since this record is partly that of the relative standing ofdifferent individuals in the development of a little known district, consider Brewster in consultation with Thorpe, the general manager ofhis great bank. Brewster was young, active, in close touch with Clarkand his enterprises, enthusiastic, yet touched with a certain power ofquick and ruthless decision. He had been interested and even thrilledby the doings at St. Marys, but he had never yielded himself completelyto Clark's mesmeric influence. Thorpe, a much older man and of notedexecutive ability, was one of those who by that noted address at theBoard of Trade had been rooted out of long standing indifference andimbued with surprised confidence, and this translation, so rapid in itsmovements, still survived. In consequence, he listened to the youngerman with a thinly veiled incredulity. 

"I can't quite see it, " he said thoughtfully, "even from your ownaccount. It's probably the proportions of the thing that makes youanxious. "

Brewster shook his head. "No, it isn't that. There's a big powerhouse on the American side and it didn't earn a cent for a year, something wrong with the foundations, though it's all right now. There's the sulphur extraction plant that doesn't extract sulphur, and--"

"What?" interrupted Thorpe. He, like others, had read of the newprocess with keen interest, and was anxious to learn details. 

"It worked in the laboratory but not on a commercial basis. Belding, the chief engineer, is all cut up about it. Consequence is Clark isbuying sulphur, and just now pulp prices are so low he's not makinganything out of it. "

"Have you seen Wimperley lately?"

"He was up with Birch a week or so ago. "

"Say anything particular?"

Brewster smiled reflectively. "He didn't seem to want to talk. "

"What are the obligations?" asked Thorpe after a little pause. 

"Of all companies?"

"Of course. "

"About two millions as nearly as I can get at them. "

"And to us?"

Brewster handed over a slip of paper. "This is a copy of what Iforwarded yesterday. "

The older man's brows cleared a little. The combined overdraft wasjust over a hundred thousand, against which the bank held Philadelphiaacceptances which he knew would be met. He glanced over the statementagain. 

"You've looked after this extremely well. Now what do you want me todo?"

Brewster drew a long breath. "I don't want you to take my word foranything, but come up and see for yourself. Go into the woods and upto the mines and through the entire works--then come to your ownconclusions. It may be I'm too near the thing to get the rightperspective, but I give it to you as I see it. "

Thorpe nodded. "I know you have and your branch has done extremelywell. "

"Thanks. " Brewster laughed. "That's due to the man we're talkingabout. "

"And supposing, " put in Thorpe thoughtfully, "supposing the whole thingwere to go smash! What would you say?"

The other man's eyes rounded a little. "I'd say, " he answered slowly, "that even in that case the entire district would be in Clark's debt. "

"Yes?"

"Because they know what's in the country now and how to get it out--andthey never knew that before. "

"And the immediate future--what do you see that depends on?"

"Steel rails, " said Brewster with conviction. "Will you come up?"

Thorpe did go up, and Clark, who knew that Brewster had been in Torontoand conceived why, met them both at the works with a genuine welcome. He felt, nevertheless, that his undertakings were to be analyzed withcold deliberation. 

At the end of two days Thorpe had seen them all--had peered into thegray black bowels of the iron mine, watched Baudette denuding theslopes of a multitude of hills--seen the stamps in the gold millhammering out the precious particles that were caught by greatquicksilver plates, --seen booms and train loads of pulp on their way toSt. Marys--seen the white spruce shaven of its brown bark and groundand sheeted and loaded into the gaping holds of Clark'ssteamships--seen the blast furnaces vomit their molten metal--seen therhythmic pumps and dynamos send water and light through every artery ofthe young city--seen the veneer mills ripping out flexible miles oftheir satiny wood--seen the power house on the American side makingcarbide to the low rumble of thousands of horsepower, and seen theelectric railway that linked Ironville with St. Marys. And all thetime Clark had put forward neither arguments in his own favor nor anyrequest for credit, but only allowed these things to speak forthemselves, till, as the aggregate became more and more rounded and thepicture more complete, Thorpe perceived that here was something whichinitiated by an extraordinary brain had now grown to such vastproportions that it supplied its own momentum, and must of necessitymove on to its appointed and final result. 

But Clark did not distinguish in either Thorpe or Brewster anydetermining factor of his future. They would do what they were meantto do, and play the game as the master of the game decided. They mightmodify, but they would never create. His mind was pitched so far aheadthat it was beside the mark to attempt to influence men who, heconceived, were not themselves endowed with any prophetic vision. Hehad to deal with them and he dealt with them, and though he wonderedmutely at their abiding sense of the present and their apparent lack offaith in the inevitable future, he descended from the heights of hisown imagination and parleyed in the bald and merciless language ofstrictly commercial affairs. 

It was at the end of his visit that Thorpe asked about the sulphurplant. 

Clark glanced at him curiously. The sulphur plant was so small afraction of the whole. 

"There's a certain step in the process we have not perfected--that'sall. You don't believe in economic waste, do you?"

"No, certainly not--if avoidable. "

"Well, I'm satisfied that this is avoidable. It is just as much amistake to allow water to run away when it might be grinding pulp, asit is to drive sulphur into the air instead of catching and selling it. You pollute the air, you kill the trees, you spend a lot of money, andyou waste the sulphur. Nature has a lot of processes up her sleevewe've not realized as yet. This is one of them. "

"Then this plant is a mistake?" Thorpe got it out with some hesitation. 

Clark laughed. "Some of it--so far. I make plenty of mistakes, don'tyou? It seems to me it's the proportion his mistakes bear to thethings that succeed which determines a man's usefulness. I don'tbelieve in the one who doesn't make them. "

Thorpe grinned in spite of himself. "Perhaps you're right--but I'll beglad to know as soon as you're rolling rails. When do you expect that?"

"In six months at the latest. I'll send you a section of the firstone. "

The banker drove toward the station in unaccustomed silence. Presentlyhe turned to Brewster. "You were right and, by George! Clark is righttoo, but we must not get our mutual rectitude mixed up. He's got to goahead, come what may, and we've got to help him all we reasonably can, but with us our shareholders come before his. That's the point. Hemay turn out to be a private liability, but in any case he's a nationalasset. I want a bit of that first rail. Good-by!"

And Clark, after waving farewell at the big gates of the works, hadgone into the rail mill and stood in the shadow in deep contemplation. He glanced at the massive flywheel, the great dominant dynamo and thehuge, inflexible rolls. At one end were the heating furnaces, theirdoors open, and gentle fires glowing softly within to slowly raise thetemperature of newly set brick. Around him was the swing of workdirected by skilled brains, and machinery moved slowly into itsappointed place of service. It was a good mill, he reflected, for asecond hand mill. For all of this the place was dead--awaiting thepulse of power and the unremitting supply of incandescent metal. Glancing keenly about, he experienced again that strange sound asthough between his temples, and suddenly he felt tired. The thing wasgood, very good. But he too wanted to see the lambent metal spewedfrom between the shining rolls. 

It was a notable day in St. Marys when the first rail was actuallyrolled, and symbolical to many people of many different things. Infection spread from the words to the town, till all morning there wasa trickling stream of humanity that filed in at the big gates and movedon toward the dull roar of the mill. Even though the mass of folk inSt. Marys still failed to grasp the full significance of the event, they saw in it that which put their one time Arcadia beside Pittsburg, and invested their own persons with a new sense of importance. 

Clark, watching the fruition of a seven year dream, felt thrilled asnever before. Here, in this heat and mechanical tumult, was beingforged the last link in the chain into which he had hammered his entirestrength and spirit. It was a good thing, he reflected, to make pulpand ship it on his own steamships, but this was the biggest, deepestand most enduring thing of all. Some men at such a moment would havefelt humble, but he recognized only the unfolding of an elemental dramain which he played his own particular role. A few weeks later heclosed a contract with a great railway company for a million dollars'worth of his new product, which he unhesitatingly guaranteed would liveup to the most exacting specifications. 

The new plant had settled down to the steady drive of work when themayor of St. Marys, walking up the street in a mood of peculiarsatisfaction, saw just ahead of him the bulky form of the chiefconstable. He stepped a little faster and laid a detaining hand on thebroad shoulder. 

"Arrest yourself for a minute, " he chuckled. "How's our town pessimistfeeling this fine morning?"

Manson glanced sideways. "I suppose you want to rub it in. Well, Idon't know that my opinions have changed very much. "

"Takes more than a few thousand tons of rails to move you, eh? Butisn't Mahomet going to come to the mountain at last?"

Manson shook his head. 

"If he doesn't the mountain will come to Mahomet--and crush him, "continued Filmer gayly, then, his mood changing, "but honestly, oldman, why don't you drop your gloomy views? You've an excellent chanceright now, and, besides, they're getting rather amusing. "

"I've a right to my own opinions. "

"Naturally, we all have, but you don't act up to them--at least youdidn't. "

Manson glowered at him with quick suspicion. "What's that?"

"Your left hand knows what your right hand doeth--every time, --at leastit's so in St. Marys. You're too big to get under a bushel basket. Every one saw that you were dabbling in real estate for years, and madea good clean up, but you seemed so darned ashamed of it that no onecared to discuss it with you. And all the time you were our prizepackage disbeliever. What's the use? It's your own affair, but whydon't you make a lightning change like the man in the circus last week?Your friends would welcome it. You're not the man we used to know. "

"If it's my own affair, " came back Manson with growing resentment, "whynot leave it at that? Did you never make any money out of a thing youdidn't believe in?"

"Yes, " said Filmer slowly, "I have, but after that I believed in it, and said so. It was only fair to the fellow behind it. "

Manson went stolidly back to his square stone office, where he took outhis broker's statement for the previous month and stared at itsilently. Already he knew the figures by heart. Another two pointrise in Consolidated stock and he would realize his net profit of onehundred thousand dollars. He ran over his own scribbled figures on theback of the statement, as he had gone over them many times before. They were quite right. For weeks past his selling order had been in, been acknowledged, and now at any moment the thing might be done. Itmight even have already been done. The blood rushed to his head at thethought. How many other chief constables, he wondered, had amassedfortunes from behind their forbidding gray stone walls? Then hethought of his wife and children, and his eyes softened, while thebroker's statement in his big hand trembled ever so slightly. Hesmiled at that, and it came to his mind that perhaps statements inother men's hands sometimes trembled at the thought of their wives andchildren and the fortunes that--and here Manson felt vaguelyuncomfortable and, getting up, slowly locked his desk. 

Just at that moment, Filmer, who had returned to his office, wassitting staring at a half-section of steel rail that lay in his hand. It was smooth and highly polished, a thin slice of the very firstproduct of Clark's last and greatest undertaking. He experienced aquite extraordinary sensation at feeling the thing, and it snatched hismind back seven years till again in the Town Hall he heard a magneticvoice assuring the citizens that the town lacked just threeessentials--experience, money and imagination, and that the speakerwould supply them all. It was a far cry from that evening to the deepdrone of the rail mill, and Filmer, detaching himself from the picturein which he formed a part, began now to perceive its dramatic vitality. Were Clark taken out the whole thing seemed to fall to pieces. 

And up at the See House, the bishop was examining just such anothersection of rail, while the gold of his episcopal ring shone beside thegray of steel. To him it meant many things, but chiefly it wasprophetic of that which would soon put an end to the detachment andloneliness of the scattered communities to which he ministered. Holding the thing thus, his heart went out to Clark, and he yearnedwith a great longing over the spirit of this man who so reveled in thejoy of creation. His eyes wandered to the Evangeline. She lay atanchor just off shore. A thin film of smoke slid from her funnel, andhe could see the Indian pilot swabbing down her smooth teak decks. Then, in sudden impulse, he smiled and, laying the rail section on topof a half finished sermon, wrote a short note, and, calling his manservant, instructed him to wait for an answer. 

A little later the note reached Clark in his office, where he satmotionless under the sway of a slight reaction. At the moment he didnot want to work. He was continuously conscious of ribbons of red hotrails that streamed like fluted snakes from under the gigantic rolls, and they seemed to be boring their way into his brain. He had shippedthousands of tons to the railway company and there were thousands moreto go. In a week or so he would get a formal acceptance of hisproduct, and then-- He stretched himself a little wearily and pressedhis eyes till a red and compelling blur brought its transient solace. And just then his secretary came in with the bishop's note. 

Dear Mr. Clark:

I am off this afternoon for a five day cruise of visits amongst theislands of Lake Huron. Won't you come with me? I know it would begood for me and think it might give you what I'm sure is a much neededrest. My Mercury, I mean the hired man, awaits your answer. 

Yours faithfully, JAMES, ALGOMA. 

P. S. I never attempt to proselytize my guests. 

For a moment he puzzled over the signature, and finally made out thatit was the bishop's Christian name followed by that of his diocese, forthis was the first letter he had received from the prelate. Then hefelt a sudden throb of impulse. He had a natural liking for the bishopand this, with his insatiable appetite for new experiences, prompted anacceptance. He touched the bell, and his secretary reappeared. 

"I am going away for five days, " he paused, adding with a smile--"onmissionary work. I haven't any idea where we are going and don't wantto be disturbed. I'll be back before we receive the results of theUnited Railway Company's tests. That's all. "

It was mid-afternoon when the Evangeline, gliding smoothly over thepolished surface of the bay, drew in towards the Consolidated dock, andClark, watching from the shadow of a mountain of bales of pulpassembled for shipment, saw the Indian pilot amidship at the wheel andthe bishop, in a big, coarse, straw hat, standing in the slim bow, acoil of rope in his hands and a broad smile on his big sunburnt face. 

"Catch!" The bight of the rope whistled through the air and strucksmartly at his guest's feet. 

The latter laughed, picked it up and made fast. It struck him suddenlythat it was curious the bishop should be throwing him a rope. Then hereflected that it was the bishop and not himself who needed help. 

The former was very gay, his kindly face alight with amusement andanticipation. Presently came a throb from the engine room, and theEvangeline sheered off down the river, past the new St. Marys wherestaring red brick buildings shouldered up out of the old time houses, past the See Mouse, while a flag fluttered jerkily down from the tallmast at whose top it flew when the bishop was at home, past theAmerican side, where Clark's big power house stretched its gray lengthat the edge of the river, and on till they came to the long point thatcloses the upper reach, and just then both men turned and looked upstream at the vanishing bulk of the huge structures beside the rapids, and the flat line of tremulous foam that marked the rapids themselves. The voice of them was, at this distance, mute. 

The yacht glided on and still neither spoke, Clark was full of thethought that, for the second time in seven years, he had deliberatelyleft his work. Four hours ago the thing would have seemed grotesque, but glancing at the bishop's broad back, he realized that here was afriendly interceptor to whom he had been wise to yield. The miles slidsmoothly by, and still neither talked. Each was busy with thecontented reflection that in the other he had found one who possessedthe gift of understanding silence. 

The Evangeline rested that evening not far from where Clark hadanchored so recently. He sat motionless, breathing in the welcomebenison of the spot, till the Indian pilot put out port and starboardlamps whose soft red and green shone steadily into the gathering dusk. 

"Is there a mission here?" asked the visitor presently. 

"No, but there's the best bass fishing in Lake Huron, " grunted thebishop placidly, already busy with rods and bait. "The mission is tenmiles on. Now we're going to catch our breakfast--there's an excellentspot just opposite that big cedar. "

Clark had not fished much, but he loved it, like most men of intellect, and discovered that he had been steered straight into the best fishinghe had ever known. They were small mouthed bass, deep of belly andhigh of back, and they fought in the brown water over the twitchingminnows that dangled from the Evangeline bow and stern. 

"I'm glad you came. " The bishop smoothed down the spines of a bigthree pounder ere he gripped it. 

"Best thing I ever did. Fishing is a clerical pursuit, isn't it?"

The bishop nodded without turning his head. "Yes, but it's not alwaysfor money. We have to bait our hooks according to the season of men'sminds. By the way, some of my best friends are in your country. "

"Yes?"

"Had a church in Chicago for ten years, --there at the time of the greatfire--it stopped a few blocks from my house. I had to marry a devotedcouple a day or two later and the wedding fee was a bunch of candles. Glad to get them; whole city in darkness and it seemed suitable thatthe parson's house should reflect light. You remind me of one of myfriends at that time. "

"Why and how?" said Clark. He knew so little of himself as appearingin other people's minds. 

"This man was a big Chicago importer--look out, you've got anotherbass--and he was in New York at the time of the fire--heard hiswarehouses were threatened and bought trainloads of stuff and rushed itthrough. It arrived while the other stuff was still smoking, and hemade much more than he-- My dear sir, that's the best fish of theevening, let me look at him. "

Clark laid the twitching body of a bass on the teak deck, while the bigman came aft, trailing his bait and slowly reeling up his line. As theminnow glimmered in towards the yacht's black side, there came a heavyplunge, the bishop's rod bent double, and the line sang off his reel. He was a famous fisherman, and Clark watched him admiringly. To everyounce of pliant bamboo on his six ounce rod there was, down in thebrown water, a pound of savagely fighting weight. Deeper went the bigfish and further, but ever the taut line yielded by fractions, and thenearly doubled rod kept up a steady insidious strain. As the bassdashed back, the bishop recovered his nearly spent line while his lipspressed tight and the light of battle shone in his large eyes. For aquarter of an hour the fight lasted, till the great fish flounderedonce or twice with heavy weariness on the surface, and the anglerworked him toward the yacht. Then a bare brown arm shot a landing netunderneath his horny shoulder and, with a dexterous twist, the Indianpilot landed him on the deck in a thumping tangle of line, leader andnet. 

"And that, " said the bishop with a deep sigh of content, "will do. We've got supper and breakfast as well. "

The night deepened, and in the little saloon host and guest sat down toa supper of fried fish, blueberries and cream. The small, red curtainswere drawn, and over the tiny fireplace a binnacle lamp glowed softly. Forward in the bows, the Scotch engineer and the Indian pilot satconversing in deliberate monosyllables, and in the east a horned moonfloated just clear of the ragged tops of encircling pine trees. Clarkate slowly and felt the burden slipping from his shoulders. It was astrange sensation. Across the narrow table towered the bishop, thegenius of the place. He was still reminiscent of American experiencesand talked as talks a man who is comfortably sure of himself and hiscompanion. 

"I don't believe I have any very close personal friends, " said Clarkpresently. "I've moved about too quickly to make them. One meetspeople in the way of work, and so far as my own employees areconcerned, I see them chiefly through their work. I can't let thepersonal element intrude. "

The bishop smiled, remembering something similar he had said himself. "Well, I must say I'm particularly drawn to Americans. Perhaps it'sbecause they suit the Irish, but I seem to find in them a certainintellectual generosity one recognizes at once and appreciates. Therearen't so many fences to climb over. And, besides, they appear tounderstand my cloth. "

"Yes?" Clark looked up, keenly interested. He had not thought muchabout the clerical profession. 

"It's quite true. They realize that a parson is a man of likepredilections and impulses and weaknesses with themselves, and that acassock does not stifle the natural and healthy ambitions of the malemammal. Nothing is more trying for the cleric than to be put aside asthough he were some emasculated ascetic who was unattracted by merelynatural things. "

"I hadn't thought of that. "

"Very few people have, except the cleric; and he thinks of it a gooddeal. There is even the tendency to believe that the parson, becausehe is a spiritually minded man, is incapable of horse sense inpractical and public affairs. By the way, don't you smoke?"

Clark smiled and shook his head. "I've never wanted to. "

"I did once, " chuckled the prelate. "It was a big, black cigar insidea hedge about three miles out of Dublin. I've never smoked since. Now, if I may go back to the clerical question, you'll probably realizethat a great many mistakes are made. "

"I hadn't thought much about that either. "

"Probably not, but it's without question that a good many parsonsrealize in a year or so that they're not up to their job, especially ifit's a city congregation. The young and over enthusiastic rectoraddressing a church full of shrewd, experienced men of affairs is oftenin a grievous case. I've sat in the chancel and listened and writhedmyself. There's many a poor parson who would make a good engineer, andhe knows it. "

"Then why shouldn't he change over?" Clark was getting new avenuesopened for him in hitherto unexplored directions. 

"Because he's ashamed to, and the world has the habit of thinking thatthe man who has once been a parson is not available for anything else. Suppose one of my missionaries came to you for a job--what wouldhappen?"

"I'd send him to you for a letter of recommendation and then put him towork. "

"I believe you would, now, but not a month ago. "

"That's quite possible. "

"Well, you have no conception that envy may, and sometimes does, existin a black coated breast. "

"But why envy?"

"Because devotion to one cause does not stifle natural aspirations inanother. For instance I've often longed for time to do some writing, on my own account. One of my traveling preachers has invented arailway switch and I know he dreams of it and makes sketches on themargin of his sermons. No, my dear sir, the public has doubtlessclassified us, and possibly correctly, but we are still fanciful, and--" the bishop hesitated and broke off. 

"Go on, please. " Clark's gray eyes were very penetrating andunderstanding. 

"Possibly I've talked too much about the parson, but there's one thingthat is often denied him and he longs for it intensely--companionshipwith his fellow men. The sacrifice of that one thing hurts more thanany other privation. And now that this one-sided symposium on theparson must have taxed your good nature, let's go to bed. We liftanchor at seven-thirty, and I go over the side at seven. There'sfifteen feet of water here and a sandy bottom, and if you like we'llget a few more bass first. Good night! I think you'll find everythingyou want in your cabin. Sleep well. "

A little later Clark stepped out on deck and breathed in the ineffableserenity of the scene. A ray of moonlight lay along the inlet like asilver line. As he went down to his cabin he noticed that the other'sdoor had swung open. Inside the bishop was kneeling by his narrowbunk, his face buried in his hands, his broad shoulders bent forward inprayer. Clark's breath came a little quickly at the strangeness of itall and, moving on tip toe, he turned the handle softly. In his owncabin, he lay for an hour staring out of the porthole at the dim worldbeyond. He tried to think of the works, but they receded mysteriouslybeyond the interlocking branches of the neighboring pines. Theyseemed, somehow, less imposing than formerly, and Wimperley andStoughton and the rest of them were a long way off. There came to himthe lullulant lapping of water along the smooth black side of theEvangeline. Presently he dropped into the abyss of sleep, dreamlessand profound. 

XIX. --THE WEB OF LACHESIS

The sun was shining level through the tree-tops when they began tofish. In fifteen minutes the bishop called a halt, dipped a bucket ofwater and washed his hands. Clark, still under the spell of this newfriendship, saw the great amethyst of the episcopal ring gleamingsoftly amid the glint of fish scales, and dimly remembered the story ofthe Man and the Galilean fisher folk whose catch was poor till He toldthem where to cast. Presently the bishop stripped and went overboardinto the brown water with a clean schloop, where he was instantlyfollowed by his guest. 

Here they played like schoolboys, shouting and blowing in utterphysical abandonment, while the copper colored pilot stared at themwith expressionless eyes and wondered mutely why people wanted to getso wet. 

The bishop was like an otter, swimming under water a long way toreappear with a sharp whistle in an unexpected place. Soon the firstflush of Clark's enjoyment passed. He felt suddenly tired and turnedtoward the Evangeline, where a small wooden ladder had been let downjust athwart the cabin cockpit. And in that instant he felt a sharpand agonizing pain. 

"Help!" he called. "Help!!" A deadly stiffness was stealing from footto knee. 

The bishop heard, rolled over on his back and, treading water, sawClark's face. The lips were puffed out, the head bent back and he wassplashing desperately. 

"Hang on to it, I'm coming, " roared the big man, and, laying his rightshoulder forward; began to tear through the water. Like a tug he came, with a bubble of foam around his head, half his face submerged, hispowerful arms and legs working like pistons. Such was the power in himthat at each stroke his great body seemed to lift and fling itselfforward, and behind him broadened a long, diamond shaped ripple thatslid whispering to the shore. The next moment sounded a voice, as froma long way off:

"Put your arms straight out--rest your palms on my shoulders. When Iturn, trail your body and don't try to do anything. That's it. " Thebishop was breathing hard, but not in any way distressed. 

They moved toward the yacht and Clark felt beneath his hands theworking of big, flexible muscles, and the buoyant surge of thepracticed swimmer who glides with the minimum of effort and resistance. In five minutes he was scarifying his skin with a rough towel andtingled with renewing circulation. 

"You saved my life that time, " he said earnestly. 

The bishop pulled his shirt over his head. "Well, that's my business, isn't it? and I fancy it's about the only thing I can do for a man likeyou. Let's have some breakfast. I smell fish. "

Clark, in spite of his late experience, ate as he seldom ate, for therewere two things at which Indian Joe was a master--pilotage and cooking. The visitor asked for more, silently deciding that his Japanese mustgo, being no such artist as this. 

"You're using royal silver, " said his host presently with a grin. "Ibought this boat from the agent of a certain august personage for whomshe had grown too small, and I got everything complete. She has abronze propeller and copper rivets. I've got the royal burgee too, andfly it only on special occasions. "

The other man smiled and nodded. It did not somehow seem strange tohim to be using royal silver in a remote bay on Lake Huron. Somethingabout the bishop made it appropriate. Then they lifted anchor and theEvangeline moved on under a climbing sun and over a laughing sea forten miles till she nosed into a creaking dock and made fast. Justbeyond was the settlement, from which the parson came hurrying down, followed by others. Clark looked at him, a lean, overworked man, withrusty clothes and joy in his face, and remembered for the first time inhis life that here was one fashioned in all ways like unto himself. 

"I'm off into the country to visit for a few hours, " said the bishop, introducing him. "You can come if you like, but it's not a good road, and I would advise you to stay where you are. Joe will take youfishing and there is plenty to read in the bookshelf. I can recommendHenry Drummond or Marcus Aurelius. Good-by!"

He drove off in a rattling buckboard, and the woods swallowed him. Alittle crowd had gathered in the dock, glancing after the bishop andthen down at the slender deck of the Evangeline. The stranger lookedup at them, nodded and disappeared. Presently Joe stretched an awningover the long boom of the main mast, and Clark sat in the shadelistening to the silence and surveying this isolated village. What, hewondered, could keep people in so forgotten a community, with itsunpaved street, its straggling wooden houses, its background ofunbroken bush. There was no water power, no big timber, and, from thelook of the country, no mineral. He put the thought out of his mindwith luxurious deliberation and tried to decipher why a man like thebishop should waste his time here when, without doubt, he could be ashining light in a great city. After a little the reason became clear, and, smiling to himself, he reached up for Marcus Aurelius. 

They supped that night at the parsonage, where they yielded to thestark simplicity of new surroundings. The parson with his wife andchildren regarded the bishop with their eyes in which love andreverence were clearly mingled. At the stranger they looked a littleinsecurely, for the bishop had, that afternoon, told who he was. Theyhad heard of him already, and in this remote village his person hadbeen invested with mysterious powers. He was a force of which theyread, rather than a living, breathing man, so that however he might tryto talk affably and communicably, he found himself hedged about with aspiny growth of fame that the others made but little attempt topenetrate. His garment of authority and influence was too great. Hewas too big and didn't fit. 

Later came service in the bare, wooden church, and for the second timehe saw the prelate in robes of office. The sun was setting and itslevel beams filled the tiny edifice with a softened glow. Overhead thesky was like a benison, while the bishop spoke words of cheer andstrength that went straight to the hearts of his congregation. Hestood, as he always stood, in front of the chancel, a great figure inwhite and scarlet, with a deep mellow voice that seemed to dissolve inthe hush of evening like a lingering caress. Clark, in his corner, satmotionless, touched as he had seldom been touched before. He began tosee why the bishop spent his life in this wilderness. 

Service done, the Evangeline moved out over a sea that was sheer, flatsilver. Indian Joe sat motionless at the wheel, the spokes pressedlightly against his polished palm. At the engine room hatch avoiceless Scotchman smoked a contemplative pipe, and for the rest of itthere was only the muffled thud of the propeller, the subdued stroke ofthe engine and the whisper of split water at the yacht's knifelikestem. Clark did not speak. It seemed as the yacht slipped on, that hewas exploring, a kingdom in which the population and their ways werehitherto unknown to him; a domain that was pathetic rather thanpoor--and remote from his scheme of things. He had given this phase oflife no thought till the bishop introduced him to it, and was puzzledthat both men and women could be so deprived of the salt of life andyet be apparently content. The bishop's voice broke his reverie. 

"Did you ever consider how much those with imagination owe to those whohave none?"

Clark started a little, then shook his head. "No, I haven't. "

"Isn't it true?"

"It may be--but I don't see what there is to create any obligation. "

"Well, you're discharging it every day. You create things primarilyfor yourself, but actually what you do is to create opportunities forothers less endowed with imaginative power. And whatever may be theultimate scope or result of your work at St. Marys, that is the highestservice it will ever perform. And, by the way, my friends seemed alittle afraid of you at supper, though I assured them you wereperfectly harmless. Do you mind telling me if you got any impressions?"

"About the events of the day?"

"Partly. I'm wondering just what people like these suggest to a man ofyour sort. Is it all very drab and uneventful?"

"Well, " said Clark thoughtfully, "it is something like that, isn't it?"

"I thought so once, but that's just what I don't now admit, and urgethat this is a case where we should consider comparative values. Satisfaction is not, after all, so much a matter of the size or qualityof the thing that satisfies, as it is of the individual who is affectedand his circumstances. Small joys go a long way on Manitoulin Island. "

"But are people who live like this not conscious of any deprivation?"

"It's not so much that as it is wonder what it would be like to owncertain things or comforts. You don't find much envy in the bushcountry, but you do find a lot of self-respect. I could tell youthings about some Indian friends of mine that would clear your mind, ifyou happen to think that the only good Indian is a dead one. It seemsto me that life in the open, even though a great part of it is spent inexposure and hardship, has certain spiritual compensations. "

Clark nodded. "Perhaps. "

"Put it this way; you deal with many kinds of men, but do you notalways feel better disposed toward a simple soul, say like our friendFisette, than toward some shrewd person who arms himself at everyconceivable point?"

"Yes, I do. "

"Well, that's what I feel about my people. Most of them are unarmedand they trust me, and anything I can do seems small in comparison tothat trust. You've got a trust too, my friend. "

Clark smiled. "That's what my directors lose no opportunity of tellingme. "

"But who or what is your Director?" asked the bishop, leaning forwardearnestly. "You needn't be anxious, I'm not going to sermonize. YourDirector is the same as mine, the great Force, call it what you will. It drove me into the church and drove you to what you are, and ourfirst trust is to ourselves--you'll agree with me there--and with thatundischarged nothing else can be carried out. Just at this moment Iwish I were as competent for my job as you are for yours. "

"But, bishop, you're--"

The big man raised his hand. "Not a word, for tonight I feel likeBrowning's Bishop Blougram who 'rolled him out a mind long crumpled, till creased consciousness lay smooth. ' It does me good to rub out thewrinkles occasionally. Now tell me, looking back at the last few yearsin St. Marys, do you appreciate what you've done?"

"I haven't had much time to look back, " said Clark thoughtfully. "Theopportunity was there and I took it, then I was fortunate enough toenlist the necessary support. Since that time the district seems tohave responded to every conceivable need, and we have been able to fallin step with a natural scheme for developing natural resources, that'sall. "

The bishop shook his head. "Not quite: it's a great drama you'reenacting up there, with the rapids for a setting. They run through itall, don't they?--the changeless, elemental background before which manclimbs up on the stage, makes his bow, enacts his part and gives placeto some one else. You are sending out multitudes of influences thatwill never be determined or traced to their result. You once told methat it all began when you overheard a conversation in a train. "

"Yes, " Clark paused, then added with a laugh, "an example of theimportance of small things. You've made your point, bishop. "

"Thank you, but I've never been able to decide whether a thing is smallor not. Some of the things that you and I prize very highly mayactually be of small account. "

For a while Clark did not answer. Ever since coming on board theEvangeline he had been conscious of a new atmosphere, tenanted by thespirit of her master, and of a new language which, though its toneswere familiar, seemed to be the vehicle of a novel wisdom andunderstanding. He was impressed with the utter candor of his host, butchiefly with his superlative sympathy with all men. The visitor fellunder the influence of a benign nature which, intensely human in allits attributes, proffered its solace to all alike. It was, heconcluded, the life function of the bishop to give himself in royalabandonment. 

He did not often put himself in the place of other men, but that night, after the Evangeline had slid into a moon spilt harbor amongst thehills, and the bishop explained that he had come here because poorpeople were apt to overtax themselves in entertaining, the visitor layon the cock pit cushions and stared long at the starry sky. Nothingimportant was to be attached to this trip, and yet he felt it to bemomentous. He knew he would always remember it, and that the memorywould hereafter assert itself in unexpected moments. He admitted beinginfluenced by the bishop and yet felt equipped for all that he had todo without any such influence. But there crept over him the slowconception that life might unexpectedly change, and that under hithertounimagined conditions he might turn to these hours for the comfort ofremembrance. 

Three more days of missionary work and the Evangeline turned homeward, Clark took the wheel for an hour, with the bishop beside him. 

"I hope, " said the latter, "that the trip has been a success for you?"

The amateur pilot gave an involuntary start. The question pitched hismind forward to the works, and he realized that for five days he hadforgotten all about them. 

"It has been a very great pleasure to me, " went on the prelate quietly. "I'm apt to have too much broadcloth and not enough gray tweed in mylife. Most of us are in the same case, and one's love of one's workdoes not suffer by an interest in other things. "

"My dear sir, I've benefited enormously. I'm a new man and ready foranything--even the worst. " How little did he dream that at that verymoment Lachesis was spinning her invisible web. 

"Ah! that's what we must always be ready for--or the best, which issometimes the same thing. Keep her to port a little. "

The yacht rounded a long point and came in sight of the works, whileClark experienced a throb of thankfulness that his host had attemptedno missionary work on him. He was as good as his word. There had beenno proselytizing. 

As the vessel reached the dock, they said good-by, each ready to do hisjob over again, and Clark, with his hand enveloped in the warm clasp, realized much of the secret of the prelate's life, which was no secretat all but just the benignity of a great and tender soul. He steppedover the yacht's side and glanced at his secretary who advanced to meethim with a telegram in his hand, noting that the young man's face waspale and his eyes unusually brilliant. 

"This came an hour ago, sir. "

With an impatient gesture he opened the folded sheet and read, hisheart slowly contracting:

Regret unable to accept first cargo of rails being five thousand tons. These not up to your guarantee and our specifications. Fullinformation this mail with the result of physical and chemical tests. 

UNITED RAILWAY COMPANY. 

Involuntarily he raised his head. The yacht was backing out, and thebishop, coiling a rope in her bows, straightened up to wave farewell. Automatically Clark waved back, then, with the telegram crumpled in hispalm, turned and walked slowly toward his office. Something the bishophad said began to sing in his brain. Could the best and the worst everbe the same thing?

XX. --THE CAR OF PROGRESS HALTS

The paralyzing news had lain in the faithful keeping of a confidentialoperator and the white faced secretary who had guarded it jealously. The latter followed to the private office. When the door was closed inhis face, he went to his own desk and sat blindly at his letters. Clark stood at a big window that commanded the rapids. Deep lines werefurrowed suddenly on his face, and his eyes were like sunken bits ofcold, gray steel. He felt the gentle vibration of the mills, andthrough it pierced the words of the telegram like a thin sharp voicethat would not be denied. It was fully an hour later that his callsounded for the secretary. 

"The rail mill will be closed shortly for temporary alteration. If youare asked anything about it--and you will be--that is all you know. This means that the furnaces must be blown down. I don't anticipateany serious delay. You will repeat this telegram to Philadelphia, andadd that I will report more fully in the next twenty-four hours. There's just one thing more. A good deal of importance will attach toyour manner and attitude for the next few days. That's all. "

The young man nodded, finding it difficult to speak. There was nothingunusual about his leader, except that the eyes were a little more deepset, the voice a shade harder. 

A few moments later, Clark stood in the rail mill watching the titanicrolls spew out ribbons of glowing steel. It came over him in asickening flood that the whole giant undertaking was useless, andinstead of the supreme delight he experienced a few months before therewas now but a huge mechanical travesty that flouted the unremittingstrain and effort of years. He was defacing the everlasting hills withdynamite to make something the commercial world did not want. A surgeof protest overcame his spirit, followed by a cynical contempt for thefutility of the best efforts of man. Impatiently he walked up to thesuperintendent of the mill. 

The latter touched a grimy hat. "We're on the last ten thousand tonsfor the United, " he said with a note of pride--"the mill's runningfine. "

"It may be, " snapped Clark acidly, "but shut it down. Your rails areno good. "

The other man blinked at him. "Eh?"

"Do what you're told, " repeated Clark with the least shake in hisdominant voice. "The United doesn't want these rails, though some oneelse will. "

Over the superintendent's sooty face crept a look of blank amazement. "Shut down! why?" he floundered helplessly. "I can't, till this heatis through, and there's nothing the matter with the rails. "

"Other people say there is, so get the heat through and obey orders. "Then, with sudden anger, "Is the job too big for you?"

He turned away abruptly, passing the whirling flywheel, the ponderouscylinders, the glowing ovens, while above him the traveling crane movedlike a whining monster across the blackened roof. He hastened, desirous of getting out of the presence of these giants whom he hadassembled only in order that they might deride him with their massiveproportions. 

So on to the towering masses of the furnaces. Here he saw poured amolten charge, and stood fascinated, as always, by the smooth anddeadly gleam of molten metal, till, curtly, the same orders wereissued. No further charges should be fed in before orders to thateffect. Then back to his office, where he cancelled shipments of coke, and sent to the iron mine a curt word that stilled the boom of dynamiteand silenced the sharp chatter of the drills. 

Gradually through the works spread the chilling news. A slowlythickening stream of Swedes, Poles and Hungarians filed out of the biggates, and Ironville was, in mid-afternoon, populated with a puzzledmultitude that repaired automatically to the saloons. Through pulpmills and machine shops, through power and pumping stations, the storywent, growing as rapidly as it spread. Time keepers heard it andoffice clerks, and the crews of tugs and steamships that lay at the bigdock below the works. And while rumors were widening every minute, there was a knock at Clark's door and, looking up, he saw thecomptroller who stood quietly, with a check for the week's payroll inhis hand. 

"How much?" The voice was admirably impersonal. 

"One hundred and ten thousand. " The comptroller was a short fat man, and at the moment quivering with suppressed excitement. 

The general manager scribbled his initials on the blue slip, handed itback without a word, and did not even look up as the official went out. A few minutes later he walked slowly through the pulp mill, stoppinghere and there to speak to superintendents and workmen. The swishingrasp of the great stones and the steady rumble of turbines brought hima sense of comfort. He progressed deliberately, and with his usualkeen interest, so that, although hundreds of eyes followed him, not aman could assume that anything had gone seriously wrong. It was anhour in which he found and radiated confidence. Here, at least, wasthe universal conclusion that all was as it should be. He was on thebank of the power canal when his secretary approached again. 

"What is it this time?"

"Hobbs is at the bank with the payroll check, and has just telephonedup. I think you'd better speak to him, sir. "

Clark's lips pressed tight and his eyes opened a little. Retracing hissteps, he listened to an agitated voice. 

"Mr. Brewster states he has no authority to cash this check unless wecover our overdraft. He would like to talk to you. "

"Let him. "

Again the receiver spoke, while Clark's face grew suddenly very grim. "I think you'd better come up and see me, " he said shortly. 

Then he listened. "Very well, " he snapped. His features were like amask. "I'm going down to the bank, " he went on dryly to the secretary, "for the first time in his life Mr. Brewster is unable to leave hisoffice and come up to mine when invited. "

He drove into St. Marys followed by the glances of every man and womanwho caught sight of the erect figure. The town was full of confusedand conflicting rumors, but nothing had as yet crystallized. Theappearance of Clark in mid afternoon at the door of the bank, thickenedthe air. It was known that people with whom he did business invariablywent to him. Not in years had he been to Brewster. But for all ofthat he seemed as cheerful as usual, and took off his gray hat to Mrs. Worden with accustomed and somewhat formal urbanity. Inside he foundHobbs, his round, soft face looking unhealthily pallid, and Brewsterwith his jaw stuck out, a determined expression on his young features. 

"Well, what's the trouble?"

"Nothing very serious. " Brewster spoke with a pleasant accent, but hewas confronting the most difficult hour of his life. "Just this check. "

"What about it?"

"I can't make any further advances till your present acceptances aremet in Philadelphia. We have half a million of them. "

"That payroll has got to be disbursed. "

"I'm sorry, but I can't cash that check. "

The lines on the older man's face tightened and deepened. "Mr. Brewster, we have spent some fifteen millions of capital through yourbank. This amount is too small to discuss. Do you realize that, ifyou persist, the men will go unpaid for the first time in seven years?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't help that. " The young manager began to feelmore fortified. 

"Is this because there's a temporary interruption at the rail mill?"said Clark bitterly. "You're assuming a big responsibility. "

"I regret that I can give no reasons, and am only doing what seems bestin the interest of the bank. If the acceptances are met, --and thefirst falls due two weeks from to-day--our head office will probablyauthorize a further advance, provided we are secured. Under thecircumstances your Philadelphia office should take care of this matter. "

"And this is your last word?" snapped Clark with emphasis. 

But Brewster had by this time completely pulled himself together. Themost trying moment was passed, and for once the mesmeric influence hadfailed. He felt behind him the authority of Thorpe and his owndirectors, and revolted at the thought of imperiling his own record. 

"You understand, " came in Clark's voice, "what happens when men are notpaid--especially the type of many of our employees. The Swede andHungarian are apt to be ugly. Further--an unpaid payroll has a badeffect on a company's securities, to say nothing of the effect onbusiness confidence in St. Marys. You have, of course, weighed allthis. "

Brewster's eyes were very grave and his face flushed. "I'm sorry, butI'm doing what I take to be my duty, " he said with a desperate effort. 

The older man's mood changed as though in a flash. "In that case I'venothing more to say. " He got up. "Come on, Hobbs, Mr. Brewster seemsimmovable. We'll have to wire Philadelphia for the money. " With thathe went briskly out. 

The banker looked after him in wonderment. The poignant instant wasover, and he pondered whether, after all, he had done right. Hiscipher message sent to Toronto as soon as the news from the worksreached him, was still unanswered, but, he reflected, he had tried toact on what he believed to be Thorpe's judgment as well as his own. Should the telegram for which he waited not confirm his decision, therewas time enough to apprise Clark of the fact that night. And just thenthe mayor entered the office and sat down, mopping his face. 

"What about it?" he demanded presently. 

"I don't know any more than you do--possibly not as much. "

"Well, " said Filmer absently, "there's a lot going round. Some have itthe works are seized for debt, others that there's a mistake in therails, others that the Philadelphia directors have resigned. Anywayhalf the thing seems to have stopped. "

"Not half of it, just the iron and steel section. "

"Yes, but that's the big end of the whole show. It was expected tocarry the burden. "

"It's still there, isn't it?" said Brewster fretfully. 

The mayor glanced at him quickly. Something in the voice suggestedthat the bank was involved and that the thing was getting on Brewster'snerves. "I hope you're all right, " he answered evenly, "but I'mcarrying more stuff than I like to think of just now. "

He departed feeling quite obviously rather balked of his desire forinside information. Just outside he met Dibbott. 

"I saw Mr. Clark just now, " said the latter. "He doesn't seem at allworried. Of course you've heard the news?"

Filmer nodded. "Yes, and I've a feeling we're going to hear morebefore long. Haven't got any Consolidated stock have you?"

"Stock! Never owned a share in my life, but I've a good mind to sellmy place now while the price is up. Look at that, will you!"

The street cars coming down from the works were bulging with thepopulation of Ironville, who had inconsequently decided to take theholiday in St. Marys. Hundreds of them were dressed in Sunday best andbent on an outing; big Slovaks and Poles whose horny fists gripped theplatform rail while they smoked cheap cigars with gaudy labels andchattered volubly to each other. It was good to be out of Ironville. 

On the way down they passed Clark, and with boyish abandon waved theirhats in greeting, Clark smiled back and whirled on. The sight of themprovoked the question in his mind and brought it closer. What if thesemen were not paid next week, as they were promised? Returning to hisoffice, he devoted himself to innumerable details affecting the ironworks. To shut them down was not so simple a thing as he anticipated. They had acquired a momentum it was difficult to arrest. Then, wiringin code to Philadelphia for his requirements in cash, he went up to thebig house on the hill and shut himself from all intruders. 

On the terrace, overlooking river and works, he walked ceaselessly upand down, irritated but not alarmed. Some foreign substance had gotinto the delicate wheels of progress, and the machine was for themoment out of adjustment. From where he stood the works were visible, and while he missed the long illumination of the rail mill and thepyramidal flame of the converters, there still sparkled the pulp millwith its long, lighted windows and the gleam of water in the tail race. Twenty-four hours ago he was sitting on the deck of the Evangeline withthe genial bishop. Now he was very much alone. What would Wimperleyand the rest do in such an emergency? He had never seen them in acorner. His reverie was interrupted by a message that Manson desiredto see him. 

"Riots?" said Clark to himself, then aloud, "Bring him here. "

The big man came up, extending a friendly hand. Clark had a curiousdislike for physical, personal contact, even of the slightest, but nowovercame it with difficulty and motioned his visitor to a chair. Thelatter sat speechless. 

"Well, Mr. Manson?" Clark asked when the silence became too perceptible. 

"I came to ask you if there were any prospects of trouble at theworks, " said the latter presently. He spoke jerkily, and in a note farremoved from the deep boom of his usual voice. 

"Why should you expect any trouble because pay day is postponed for aweek?"

Manson lifted his heavy lids. "Is it only for a week?"

Clark got up and paced the terrace, his head thrust forward, his handsbehind his back. There was that in the visitor's manner which puzzledhim. The evident agitation and discomfort, the anxious moving of thethick arms, the constant shifting of the feet, all pointed to somethingthat struck deeper than the possibility of a riot. And Manson, he hadreason to know, was no coward. 

"I anticipate that it will be less than a week. How many men have you?"

"Thirty, and myself. "

"We have twenty guards at the works, also, if need be, there's thelocal militia. "

"Have you ever seen them?" said the chief constable contemptuously. 

"No, but the law is behind them and a certain amount of discipline, "then, his voice changing abruptly, "Mr. Manson, are you afraid?"

The big man stared at him as though fascinated. His dark face began towork convulsively in an obvious attempt to voice that which disturbedhim. Clark watched it all. 

"Well, " he said with ill concealed impatience, "if it's not animaginary riot that's troubling you, I'll say good evening. I'm ratherbusy at the moment. "

At that Manson half lifted himself out of his chair and leaned forward. "It's the works, " he whispered huskily, "are they all going to hell?"

Clark stared at him in open astonishment. It was an absurd thing thatat this moment he should be subjected to a visit from a man who hadnever believed in him, but who was now evidently torn by anxiety at thethought of his failure. There came a swift and silent suggestion, butthe thing was too remote. 

"Mr. Manson, " he said slowly, "you never took any stock in me or myefforts, so why worry?"

"But that's just what I did do, " croaked the constable, reddening tohis temples. "I invested all I could and, " he added dully, "I've gotit now. "

"Ah! so that's it?"

"And I'd be grateful if you could tell me--"

"So you said one thing and did another!" The tones were like a knife. "Well, that's your privilege, and none of my affair, and, " he concludedcurtly, "I don't care to discuss it. Good evening. "

But Manson was on his feet, too desperate to be denied. "It's not youraffair what I may have said or done? I'm a shareholder--a large one. I've a right to come here and ask you a question. It's nothingunreasonable--and you'll answer it. " He stood over the smaller man, dark and threatening. 

Clark laughed in his face, till, with that extraordinary perceptionwhich so frequently cleft to the essential essence of things, heperceived that there was that which was more important than the factthat Manson had been speculating and would certainly be bitten. Hisattitude in public was worth something--at any rate in St. Marys. Known universally as a critic and pessimist, it would be notable ifnow, in the time of crisis, he became a supporter. Manson as ashareholder did not matter, but officially he did matter. Very swiftlyClark ran over this in his mind, while the big man waited, no longer amenace but only a straw borne by the flood which was the creation ofClark's imagination. There was no doubt in the latter's mind as to theultimate solution of present difficulties. He still believed, as healways believed, in himself, in the country and in his enterprise. So, very deliberately, he began to talk. 

"You have asked me a very extraordinary question--that is from you--butit appears, " here the voice was a little sardonic, "that you had moreconfidence in me than you admitted. Now you ask about the future. Itell you that I never had more faith in the final outcome of affairsthan I have at this moment. There have been difficulties of which thepublic knew nothing--and this is the only one which has become commonknowledge. Do you expect any one to build up a concern like thiswithout anxious moments? You know what St. Marys was seven years ago, and I remember very distinctly your attitude toward myself. It hastaken seven years, " here once more the voice was full ofcontempt--"seven years and a crisis, to convert you. Speculators willdoubtless take advantage of this interruption, but I am confident thatlong after you and I have passed on, steel rails will still be rolledat the works. Good evening. "

Manson muttered something unintelligible, and moved off down the longhill that led to St. Marys. For the first time in his life he believedin Clark, believed in him in that hour when the faith of thousands wasbeing shaken. He had no conception what a pigmy unit he himself was inthe multitude who followed their remarkable leader. He had no grasp ofthe fundamentals of which Clark confidently took hold in the time ofstress. He did not wonder who else was in like case with himself. Heonly knew that this man had thrown him the end of a rope, and hegrasped at it with all the strength of his soul, and had no intentionsof loosening his hold. 

Later that evening he went in to see Filmer, whose office lights wereon, and here found Dibbott and Worden. The three were talkingearnestly, and as the broad figure loomed in the doorway Dibbott gave adry laugh. 

"Our pessimist's reputation is looking up. Have you come to crow?"

Manson shook his head and told them very briefly of his visit. Therewas no mention of his own speculation. "So after all, the thing isprobably all right, " he concluded. "At any rate, Clark doesn't seemworried, so why should we?"

Filmer gave vent to a low whistle. "Hypnotized at last!"

"No, " said Manson, flushing, and went on to promulgate the reasons forhis hopes. The others said nothing, but he could see they wereimpressed. Presently he went out on a midnight round of inspection, and, as the door closed behind him, Worden nodded thoughtfully. 

"For the first time in seven years he seems reasonable in thisconnection. After all, if we get off the handle it will be a mightybad example. How about it, Mr. Mayor?"

"Well, " said Filmer, caressing his glossy whiskers, "I always believedin Clark and I guess I do now. If he were trying to make money forhimself out of this thing we'd know it, but he isn't. Gentlemen, thejudge is right--we've got to hold the town together. "

On the corner they met Bowers, the Company's solicitor, who was walkingslowly home smoking a peaceful cigar. 

"What's this?" he said, grinning. "Looks like old times to see youthree together. "

Filmer had a sudden thought. "Do any of you chaps remember whatanniversary this is?"

The others searched their brains and gave it up. 

"Seven years ago to-night there was a certain notable meeting in thetown hall. "

"And now there's one in the corner. We've come down in the world, " putin Dibbott. 

"Possibly, but possibly not. I was just thinking of all that hashappened in seven years. It should prevent us from getting rattled. "The mayor turned to Bowers, "Seen Clark to-day?"

"Haven't seen or heard of him for three days, " answered the lawyershortly--then, because he wanted to avoid being pumped, "goodnight--I'm for my blameless couch. "

They looked after him and at each other. "Seen Belding?" asked Dibbottof the judge. 

"No, he's down in Chicago. I think he's buying machinery. Now it'slate and if I don't go home too, I'll get into trouble. " He turnedtowards the old house by the river, and halted a few steps off. "Goodnight, you fellows, I feel better. "

Thus it came that while a brooding, gray eyed man paced his terracewith his eyes fixed on the far white line of the rapids, whose call wasindistinguishable at this distance, there was spreading almost underthe shadow of the works a novel spirit of confidence in himself and hisvast enterprise. It was not till a sudden question arose, that St. Marys realized the prodigious meaning of their new city and howlavishly all Clark's promises had been redeemed. In the hour ofanxiety they leaned on him more than ever before. This new birth--thisupholding trust--was conceived at the very moment when Wimperley andthe others were gathered in harassed counsel, and through Philadelphiaand the surrounding state was broadening a dark cloud of rumor thatcarried swift fear to thousands of hearts. But it was not fear thatcame to the keen brain of Henry Marsham. 

By eleven that night Clark had heard nothing from his head office. Thestrain became too great, and he went into a little room off the librarywhere an extension of the private wire had been carried up from theworks. There was once a time when he could send and receive in theMorse code, so now he sat down and laid a somewhat uncertain finger onthe tilting key. 

"Phil -- Phil -- Phil. "

Instantly and to his surprise, came the reply. 

"Sma -- Sma -- Sma. "

"Is -- Wimp -- there?" The thing began to come a little easier. 

"Yes. "

"Tell -- Wimp -- I -- want -- answer -- funds -- for -- payroll. "

Clark got this off laboriously, conscious that however clear might bethe message, the wire was a poor transmitter as compared to eye andvoice. 

"Wimp -- says -- meeting -- going -- on -- now -- cannot -- act --before -- to-morrow -- Get that. "

"Yes, " flashed the plunging reply. 

"Wimp -- waiting -- your -- report -- defect -- in -- rails. "

Clark's brows wrinkled and he bent over the key. 

"Cannot -- send -- report -- till -- several -- chemical -- anal --anal -- "

"Yes -- analyses -- I -- get -- you -- are -- complete -- is -- that --it. "

"Yes. " Clark breathed a sigh of relief. His brow was wet. 

"When -- will -- that -- be -- Wimp -- asks. "

"Three -- days. "

"Wimp -- says -- hurry -- up -- things -- shaky -- here -- expect --attack -- by -- bears -- have tried -- to -- place -- rails --elsewhere -- but -- not -- successful. Wimp -- says -- good night. "

Clark's eyes sparkled with anger and he hammered the key. There wereother things he wanted to say--and must say. But for all his repeatedcalls there was only silence, till in an interval, while he rubbed histhrobbing fingers, the receiver began to tilt. 

"Wimp -- says -- good night --" it announced with metallic finality. 

He got up and stood staring at the thing for a moment, his face heavywith anger, the group in Wimperley's office vividly before him. Hecould see the cold features of Birch, sharpened by the tenseness of thehour into a visage bloodless and inflexible, with thin tight lips andnarrow expressionless eyes. He could see Stoughton, red withdiscomfort and resentment; Riggs' excited and anxious little face, andWimperley himself, cast with a new severity; all supremely conscious ofthat which probably must be faced on the morrow. And what aboutMarsham? Tottering was now their faith in the essential future of theworks and the great cycle of their operations. The wire hadtransmitted their decisions, but over its yellow filament had alsotrickled their apprehension. With a touch of cynicism he recalled thecongratulatory messages--the very first it had carried. 

He went out on the terrace again, seeking the black bulk of the railmill in the medley of structures down at the works. Presently he foundand scrutinized it. Somewhere in its gloom lurked an error, or else inthe great furnaces that shouldered nakedly into the moonlit air. Witha sudden sense of fatigue, he turned to his bedroom. 

"At any rate the chief constable is with me, " he soliloquizedsardonically, "and that's something. "

In five minutes he was sleeping profoundly. 

XXI. --THE CRASH

Around the neck of every great industrial undertaking is hung a chain ofunlovely parasites, who fatten on the interruptions to its progress andthe fluctuations in its success. These men create nothing--contributenothing. Playing on the fears and hopes and untempered weakness of thepublic, they reap where they do not sow and feed the speculative appetiteof millions. To them it is negligible whether good men go down or honesteffort is rewarded. Predatory by nature and unscrupulous in action, theyprey upon their fellows, and, like the wolf, are strangers to mercy andcompassion. Their wealth is not an asset to the world, because itrepresents nothing they have originated, but only that which they havefilched from others less shrewd and unscrupulous. They do not hesitateto magnify the false or to bring to ruin what they find most profitablyassailable. They have respect for neither genius nor labor, but jugglewith the efforts of both in a fierce game for gold. 

As the gong struck on the Philadelphia Exchange next morning, a wellknown operator associated with Marsham's firm threw five thousand sharesof Consolidated on the market. It was taken at forty-eight, a loss oftwo points, and in that first transaction the value of the entireenterprise shrank by half a million. 

A moment later, Wimperley knew of it and sent for Birch, but Birch, whohad been just as speedily informed, was already on his way. He came in, a little paler than usual. On his heels arrived Stoughton and Riggs. 

They were in the padded seclusion of the president's inner office, whiletwo blocks away swelled a storm, whose echoes only reached them in thesharp staccato of the ticker in the corner as it vomited a strip of whitepaper. Wimperley stood there, the strip slipping between his fingers, while selling orders began to pour in to Philadelphia, and the price ofConsolidated crumbled like dust. He could visualize the scene on thefloor of the Exchange, the frenzy of men smitten with sudden fear, andthe deliberate cold-blooded action of others who lent their weight tothis downfall. Marsham was very busy. Greater grew the flood, withsales of so great quantities of stock that they perceived the market wasgoing boldly short. Then came an avalanche of small holdings, till theticker announced that it had fallen behind the record of transactions andthat Consolidated was now offered at thirty-five with no bidders. Thiswas three-quarters of an hour after the Exchange opened. 

Stoughton and the others sat quite motionless. The thing was too big forthem to grasp at once, but they had a dull sense that the foundationstones of their great pyramid were shifting, that the gigantic structuresat St. Marys were dissolving into something phantom-like and tenuous. Atthis juncture a message was brought in from Clark. 

Hear market is very weak. Please buy five thousand for me by way ofsupport. 

Wimperley read and handed it silently to Riggs. The little man swalloweda lump in his throat. "By God!" he said unsteadily, "but he's got sand, no doubt about it. "

"What's that?" Stoughton demanded dully, and, reaching out, glanced atthe telegram. "Why throw Robert Fisher to the wolves? They're doingwell enough as it is, " he grunted, and relapsed into a brooding silence. 

Then began to arrive inquiries from country banks and cancellations fromcountry subscribers. Wimperley read them out as they came in, and, wellinformed though he was of the wide distribution of Consolidated stock, experienced a slow amazement at the broad range of his followers. Theirmessages were indignant, despairing, threatening and pathetic. He beganto wonder why he had accepted a responsibility which was now for thefirst time unveiled in such startling proportions. Yesterday theConsolidated was a name to conjure with. To-day it was an epitome ofhuman fear and desperation. 

Ten seconds before the noon gong struck on the Exchange, a frantic brokerlifted a bull like voice above the uproar. 

"Sell five thousand consol at thirty-two, thirty-two!" He bellowed itout raucously. The selling order had been flashed from Toronto. 

"Taken at thirty-two, " snapped Marsham's operator, who had opened theperilous game that morning, and, smiling, jotted a note on his cuff. Hehad made just eighty thousand dollars on that one transaction. Themarket strengthened a little in the afternoon on short covering, thematter of investment being thrown to the winds. Consolidated was now agambling counter, and the closing quotation stood at thirty-five. Formervalues had shrunk by some eight millions. Gone was that laboriousupbuilding into which Clark and the rest had thrown their very souls;overcast were the efforts of seven years. It was, to most people, aquestion of what might be made of what was left. The works remained, but, the public concluded, the iron and steel section, the heart of thething, was unsound. Such is the communicable essence of fear. 

At ten minutes after three the directors met to face a situation whichwas, in all truth, serious enough. Philadelphia banks, smarting fromloans made on Consolidated stock, had declined further credit. The firstpayment of a million dollars for steel rails was indefinitely deferred. Creditors, galvanized by the events of the day, poured in ceaselessdemands that their accounts be liquidated, but moneys due theConsolidated for pulp had been realized and diverted into the building ofrailways and the construction of the rail mill. Birch, his face verygrave, ran over all this in a level monotone of a voice, while the restwearily admitted its truth, and in the middle of the rehearsal a messagewas brought in from Clark. 

Greatly regret events of to-day but am unshakenly confident for thefuture, given sufficient time to remedy defect in rails which should nottake long. Chemical analyses show too high carbon and this can berectified. Now awaiting remittance for payroll. 

Wimperley read it without a trace of accentuation, while Stoughton got upand stared, as once before, at the sky line of Philadelphia. 

"Well, " drawled Birch dryly, "we've heard from our prophet. "

"He's got more confidence in our future than we have in his past, " put inRiggs. 

Stoughton turned, "What about the payroll?"

"If you have a million or so to spare, we'll send it up. There's more tobe met than the payroll. " The voice was a trifle insulting, butStoughton did not notice it, and Birch went on. "There's just one thingwe can do, if we can't get money to run. "

"Well?" jerked out Riggs, "say it. "

"Shut down. "

Wimperley's long fingers were drumming the table. He did not fancyhimself as the president of a great company in whose works not a wheelwas turning. 

"I'd like to find some other way out of it. There's going to be hell topay here, but--"

"Perhaps the ingenious gentleman at St. Marys could help out, " said Birchacidly. 

At that came a little silence and there appeared the vision of Clark inhis office, with his achievements dissolving before his eyes. 

"Robert Fisher is no financier, " struck in Stoughton wearily. 

Wimperley smiled in spite of himself. "Perhaps not, but he mesmerized usinto that office. There's only one thing I can see--issue debenturessecured by first mortgage. "

"Who'll take 'em? We used up all our arguments long ago. Philadelphiadoesn't want a mortgage on Robert Fisher, and what about the Pennsylvaniafarmer?"

"What about him?" asked Wimperley pettishly. 

"As I know him, he's a bad loser--he works too hard for it. This is acase of new money from outside, and I for one don't feel like doing anytraveling. "

"In other words we've demonstrated that whether or not by any fault ofours, we've made a mess of it, " said Stoughton with utter candor. 

"Something remarkably like it. "

"And when Clark told us, months ago, that he wouldn't draw any salary, and that a lot of others were only drawing half salary to help out tillthe rail mill got going, we should have made provision for possiblemistakes, and seen as well that we were getting in over our ears. "

"But Clark believed all he told us, " piped Riggs with a flash of loyalty. 

"Of course he did, and he still does, and because he is still only twentyyears ahead of his time he's all the more dangerous. "

"Let's get back to this payroll, " blurted Stoughton who was getting moreand more uncomfortable. 

"Fishing's pretty good up there, let him fish for it. " The voice ofBirch was like ice. He was one of those who by nature are fitted forcold and ruthless action in time of stress. Most of his money had beenmade across the dissecting table of enterprises, and not at their birth. He was a financial surgeon, but no midwife, and had only been magnetizedinto his past support by the hypnotic personality of Clark. He wasgrimly mindful that Marsham, after waiting for years for his opening, hadgot more than even. Birch's cold mind now wondered for the first timewhether, after all, the cut throat game he had once loved to play wasworth the candle. Here was American credit and effort massacred byAmerican ruthlessness and revenge. Marsham had pounced upon a weak pointin the Consolidated's armor and pierced deep into the body corporate. Hehad struck to kill. 

"And would you shut down the pulp mill--market's good now?" persistedStoughton. 

"I'd rivet the whole thing tight. The railway never paid, --at leastdirectly--that we could reckon. It's costing more to ship pulp on ourown boats than the rate at which we could ship by contract--and if theyare not going to bring back coke, why run them? Gentlemen, this means asmash--an interval of anxiety, discomfort, loss of prestige, and--"

"Go on, Elisha--" barked Riggs. "Oh, please go on!"

"Prestige--and later reconstruction. In the meantime, we don't spend acent on running anything, and find out exactly what we owe. Then comesnew money, and, " he added cynically, "a new bunch of directors. "

"And who will arrange that?" Riggs demanded abruptly. 

"One Robert Fisher Clark--if he has not lost all his power of magnetism. "

"Aren't you guessing a little too fast?"

"No, it's quite possible. His argument will be that we didn't back himto the necessary limit--that another million would have done it--and, "concluded Birch reflectively, "that may be perfectly true. But God knowswe did what we could. What's this one?" He glanced at Wimperley, whowas reading a telegram just brought in. 

Waiting your remittance for payroll, necessary that this be providedto-day, otherwise I anticipate serious disturbance here. It is advisablethat I do not come to Philadelphia just yet as my leaving here would bewrongly interpreted. 

R. F. C. 

There fell a moment's silence, instantly recognized by all four as theprecursor of grave events. Birch had spoken the thought that lurked inall their minds. To continue running meant another payroll to be met. 

It now appeared suicidal to have stretched their resources to the limitof their credit, but not one of them had remotely dreamed that a fewthousand tons of steel rails were to drag the whole structure to topplingdestruction. Birch, as usual, first pulled himself together. 

"It's put up or shut up, and we've got to tell Clark right now. "

Little Riggs sighed despondently. This meeting would soon be over andthe decision made, after which he would have to face a totally unexpectedset of conditions and a circle of friends and investors who would regardhim with close and uncomfortable interest. 

"Well, I suppose it's shut up!" he hazarded unsteadily. 

Birch looked inquiringly at the other two, who nodded without speaking, then began to write. The rest did not even glance at each other, butfound absorption in walls and windows and the big map of poignant memory, while the long, waxen fingers moved inexorably on. 

"What about this?"

"'Under existing conditions and the impossibility of making immediatefinancial arrangements for current needs directors decide best to closedown all work of every kind at once, giving notice that this will be onlytemporary. You will report here as soon as in your judgment you canwisely come down. ' Is that all right?"

Stoughton bit at his thumbnail and nodded. "I suppose so--and there'llbe hell to pay in St. Marys, eh, Wimperley? Our friend the chiefconstable will be working over time. Remember the beggar? The damn foolwas right too. "

"Yes, it's all right, " said Wimperley, "and now I suppose there'll bewrits and injunctions enough to fill the tailrace. We'd better get outand arrange some support for the market. Birch, you compound acomforting statement for the papers. We adjourn till tomorrow atnine-thirty. "

They did adjourn, but lingered for an hour digging into the past sevenyears. It was a talk such as one might expect under the circumstances. Charged with an apprehension but thinly veiled by manner and speech, events took on for them no perspective. They were too close at hand. All this was so intimately their own and Clark's responsibility thatevery other consideration became instantly submerged, and it was a matterof living for the day, if not for the hour. Had any one at this timetold Wimperley or Stoughton that for a pace or two they had merely fallenout of step in the march of progress, and that however depressing mightbe the present aspect of affairs it did not really affect the preordainedoutcome, they would have flouted the thought. It is not given to manymen to place themselves correctly in the general scheme of the world, andto fairly estimate their own contribution. Thus it was that Wimperleyand his associates read on the screen of the present only the word"failure, " and were conscious chiefly of a certain self contempt for thearduous part they had played. At the last moment success had beensnatched from their grasp. 

Stoughton walked slowly home. He was thinking of Manson, the pessimist, who had been right. And such is the interlinking chain of life. Manson, at this moment, was sitting in his office, while his mind harkedaimlessly back to the first time he had met the men from Philadelphia. He stared at a telegram that trembled between his thick fingers. Hisbroad face was gray and ghastly. He had been here motionless for sometime, when a gentle knock sounded at the door and his wife came timidlyin. One glance at his face, and her arms were round his neck. 

"What is it, Peter?" she quavered. 

He did not look up but held the message so that she might read it. 

Sold you out to-day on stop loss order at thirty-two margin beingexhausted. Farthing. 

She read it wonderingly. "What does it mean; who is Farthing?"

"My Toronto broker--or at least he was, " said Manson heavily. 

"But I don't understand, dear. "

"Ho, I didn't suppose you would; it means I lose my hundred thousand, that's all. "

"Had you a hundred thousand?" she whispered. 

"Very, very nearly, and now I haven't anything, --that is, I didn't make acent. "

She drew a long breath. "Peter, tell me just how we stand. "

"Exactly where we did the day a man named Clark came to St. Marys, " hesaid dully, "with not a cent more. "

There followed a little silence, and the tears began to roll down hercheeks. He put his arm round her, and perceived, with astonishment, thatthey were tears of happiness. 

"Peter dear, " she said very softly, "you don't know how glad I am thatit's all over. "

"You mean the hundred thousand!" He stared at her blankly. 

"Yes, just that. I know you won't understand, but things have never beenthe same for me since you began to try and make it. You weredifferent--everything was different. "

"But if I had made it you would have been glad. "

"Perhaps--I don't know. I'm rather afraid of a hundred thousanddollars, " she began to smile a little through her tears, "but now I feelten years younger. Is that what 'stop loss' means--you don't actuallylose anything?"

"Nothing more than I have sent him in this case. "

"And you didn't send him my money--not that it's much. "

"Good God, Mary, no!"

"Peter, " she began gently, "you weren't happy all the time--I could tellthat. You were trying to do something you weren't made for--I could seethat too. You are very strong--but it isn't that kind of strength. People like us can't do that kind of thing--we feel too much. We haven'tgot much, but it represents a lot and our lives are in it, and thishundred thousand dollars wouldn't have been that kind of money, would it?"

"No, I suppose not. " Manson felt the tumult in his breast subsiding. 

"I know you did it for me and the children, but we don't want you tospeculate for us. We just want you--as we used to have you. We haveenough of everything else, and we'll all be very happy again. Oh, mydear, big, faithful husband. " She slipped into his arms and put her headon his great shoulder. 

And Manson, holding her to him, felt new springs of emotion unsealthemselves within him. The past few years had not been happy ones. Ashis profits grew, he was conscious of the spectre of anxiety at hiselbow. It had been a simple thing to make a thousand and then ten andthen twenty, till, as he marched ever faster toward the siren call, heperceived that he was no longer in his own country, but one in which thelandmarks were all changed. Now, with the throb of his wife's heartagainst his own, he acknowledged defeat, but perhaps it was defeat ofthat which was not himself. 

Presently the little woman stirred, brushed the tears from her cheeks, and, smiling, kissed him tenderly. 

"I'm happier than I've been for years. Did you ever guess that peoplehere thought you were a rich man?"

"No. "

"Well, they did, at least some of them, Mrs. Dibbott for one. "

"Then you can put Mrs. Dibbott right. "

"Will what has happened at the works make much difference here?"

"Probably a good deal. I'm looking for trouble. "

"Up at Ironville?" she said anxiously. 

"But I'm good for it. " He stretched his great arms, feeling strangelyfree and fit for his duty. 

"What about Mr. Clark?"

At this Manson grew suddenly thoughtful. Caught up in his own anxiety, he had never considered Clark. The figure of the latter began to take onstrange proportions. What, he wondered, had Clark lost? Within twentyhours of the time he maintained his unaltered belief, the bottom haddropped out. Or, he queried, had Clark merely said this to prevent himfrom throwing his stock on the market? He pondered over this, anddecided that five thousand shares were negligible amongst millions. Thenhe felt his wife's inquiring glance. 

"I'm sorry for Clark, but I guess he's wise enough to take care ofhimself. "

"I hope so. I've only spoken to him once, but I like him. "

She disappeared presently, leaving him busy with special instructions tothe police--in case of disturbance. She did not worry about that, beingchiefly conscious that a load was gone from her spirit. Singing softlyto herself, she went out with gladness in her eyes, and halfway toFilmer's store encountered Mrs. Bowers. The latter looked pale andtired. Bowers, for the past twenty-four hours, had been a much triedman--and his wife reflected it. 

"Good evening, " said the latter, "you look very fresh. How do you manageit?"

Mrs. Manson, suddenly recalled to earth, smiled gently. "I'm ratherhappy to-day. I hope Mr. Bowers is not very anxious. "

"It's no use saying he isn't, but he doesn't talk about it. How's yourhusband?"

"Splendid. "

"Well, you're the only untroubled pair I've heard of to-day. Myhusband's in a frightful temper because he didn't sell our land sixmonths ago. He says we'll never sell it now, but I'm just as glad. Isthe whole thing going to break up?" Mrs. Bowers swung her parasol towardthe rapids. 

"I--I don't really know anything about it, " said the little woman with atouch of nervousness from which she recovered instantly, then, smiling, "perhaps I'll come over to-morrow. "

"Do, there's a heap to talk about, and smile like that just as long asyou can--the town needs it. "

She walked on, her mind very busy. Without question something excellenthad happened to the Mansons--and in a time like this! Manson was said tobe in the way of making a fortune, and now, she concluded, he had madeit. There was no other explanation for an expression like his wife'swhen such grim rumors were abroad. A little later she told Mrs. Worden, and both the judge and Bowers heard of it, and next day the story reacheda dozen houses in St. Marys. The constable, it was said, for all hispessimism, had been sharper than Clark himself. 

But Manson was only a leaf picked up by the edge of the storm in whichClark sat, its unapproachable center. The telegram compiled by Birch andsigned by Wimperley, as president, was on his desk, just as the secretaryhad laid it before he went silently out, unable to meet the mystifyingglance of those gray eyes. Clark had never moved nor looked up, nor didhe till half an hour later, when he dictated a notice to be postedthroughout the works. "_All operations will temporarily cease this nightat six o'clock. Employees will be notified when to apply for theirwages, which will shortly be paid in full. The accounting staff willremain at duty. _" His voice was level and absolutely expressionless. Then he went out, and, taking the broad trail to the rapids, seatedhimself a few minutes later in a well remembered place. 

The moments lengthened into hours and still he did not move. The sunshowed its red disc through the lattice girders of the great bridge, andtouched the flashing waters into gold. It was seven years since he hadsat here first, and he looked expectantly about for the crestedkingfisher. The voice of the river seemed unusually loud, and there wasno drone from the works. He began to go over it all, but, desisting fromsheer inability, pitched his attention on the rapids. Here, at least, was that which had no shadow of turning. Distinguishing the multitude ofnotes that lifted their booming uproar, he yielded to the sensation thathe was in the midst of them, being carried to the sea. 

To-night they seemed relentless, but that again was the reflection of hismood. If he was going down, Wimperley and the rest were going with him. Finally he was able, at some command from this tumult, to disassociatehimself from the present and go back to the beginning. Retracing eachstep, he decided that, were a parallel occasion to arise, he would do thesame again. He had listened to the voice of the hills and woods andwater, rather than to the voice of Philadelphia, and this, he ultimatelyconcluded, was right. There was no time to brood or forecast the future. What his soul craved was to be persuaded that it was justified up to thishour. Only thus could he find strength for that which was yet to come. 

Carrying his solitary reverie still further, he was assured that it wouldbe for him and him alone to find the way out. Wimperley and the otherswere able men as far as they went, but just as they had always loiteredbehind his imagination, so now would they be slow in deciphering theriddle in store. He had brought them in, and it would be left for him tobring others in also. Very easily he visualized what had taken place inPhiladelphia, and the group in Wimperley's office stood out quiteclearly. He felt no particular sympathy for them, nor did it appear thatthe responsibility was primarily his own because it was his brain thatconceived the whole gigantic machine. They had acted according to theirfinal judgment, so had he. With small and genuine investors the case wasdifferent, but Clark was well aware that Consolidated stock had been afavorite Pennsylvania gamble for years. As to his own employees, he knewthat the works must ultimately go on and could not go on without them. This left only himself to be considered, and at the thought thisextraordinary man smiled confidently. He was stranger to that fear whichis based on uncertainty of one's own resources. 

An hour after sundown he went home and, sending for Bowers, the two sattalking earnestly. For Bowers it had been a day of vicissitude which hewas only partially competent to face. Rooted out of a small practice ina small village, and caught up in the sweep of irresistible progress, hehad never had to fight for his point. The weight and momentum Clark putbefore him were too great for that. But now every angle of theConsolidated Company seemed to offer itself for frontal attack. He putthis to his chief in justification of his own anxiety. 

"It's been a matter of writs and injunctions all day. There are enoughin my office now to paper the rail mill. "

"Well, why should you worry?"

Bowers glanced up with surprise. "Eh?"

"You're doing your duty, you can't do anything more. But perhaps youfeel chagrined at being associated with me in the present difficulty. You needn't expostulate, --I can quite understand it. "

The lawyer turned a brick red. It was quite true. He had begun to lookon this calamity as one for which he and Clark were both partlyresponsible. 

"If you worry--and it's quite absurd that you should--your valueautomatically decreases. Has it occurred to you that, from now on, theimportance of your position is vastly increased? We shall look to youmore than ever. I dare not worry--there's too much to be done. You wereour advisor, now you are our protector against unfair attack--andthere'll be lots of it. What's more, Bowers, you are the only one who issure of his money. "

Bowers nodded. He began to feel more comfortable. 

"What's going on in St. Marys?"

"Nothing much yet--they don't know what to get ready for. Filmer and therest are sending out accounts they hope to collect, a good deal ofproperty is on offer without any takers, but, at the bottom, I don'tthink the town is rattled. There's a sort of feeling that the works aretoo big to be wiped out. "

Clark smiled gravely. He was aware that to the townsfolk the works hadbecome part of the landscape, and, imaginatively, not much more. Butjust as they could not contemplate the obliteration of part of thelandscape, so it was difficult to conceive permanent idleness at theworks. It was a case of the immobility of the non-speculative mind, which is lethargic in hours of exaltation but comfortably steadfast intimes of stress. 

"Listen, " he said earnestly. "There's an element in Ironville which maysoon have to be controlled by force; but as to St. Marys what you've gotto do is to spread the feeling that there's nothing like confidence tomaintain business. Can't you see that if your office were knee deep inwrits it doesn't affect you? You've got to remain the efficient, smoothly working, impersonal machine. So have I--and so has every onewho takes the responsibility for the actions of those of lesserintelligence. Leaving out first and second causes--we're all doing justwhat we're meant to do, and it doesn't matter who or what meant it. Wimperley and the others will be up here soon, and regard me as a crazyidealist who inveigled them into building a house of cards. The heads ofdepartments--at least some of them--will look at me and wonder how it wasthat I gave them any confidence in the future. Hundreds of creditorswill consider me personally responsible because they have to wait fortheir money, and about two thousand Poles and Hungarians will want tokill me to gratify their sense of personal injury. On top of that, ninety-nine men out of a hundred will forget all about my seven years'work, and that I started with nothing, and will point to the Consolidatedas an excellent example of misdirected energy. For a little while littlemen will smile with commiseration and say 'He did the best he could, 'but, " and here Clark's voice deepened, "only for a little while. Now, friend Bowers, where do I stand with you?"

Bowers got up and paced the terrace irresolutely, glancing now and thenat the motionless, gray clad figure in the wicker chair. He was suddenlyand profoundly moved. In the past he had seen but one side of Clark, andthis sudden depth of feeling was startling. He knew that if he stilltook his chief as the crowd took him, Clark would not apparently beaffected in any degree, but would only classify and finally put him awaywith his own kind. 

"Don't think for a moment I'm making any appeal, " went on the steadyvoice. "It really doesn't matter whether you believe in me or not. There's just one thing supremely important at the present time, which ismy belief in myself. That's my anchorage--it always has been and willbe. I don't consider that we owe each other anything, but just the sameI would like to know where you place me. "

Bowers had a swift vision of what he was seven years ago, and set itagainst what he was now. Then, with full consciousness of the completeconfidence that was placed in him by Clark, he turned and held out hishand. 

"I place you, " he said a little jerkily, "just where you want to beplaced. "

Clark merely touched the extended fingers, but his face brightened and asmile crept into his eyes. 

"I thought you did, but--" he added quizzically, "I had to work to findit out, didn't I?"

Bowers nodded. He felt like a field that had been plowed so deep that itwould yield better than ever before. He reflected, too, that theexperience gained in years of success should serve well in times ofadversity. 

"What's on the program?" he asked. 

"The men will begin to drift in from the mines and lumber camps. Thenit's a matter of sitting tight till they're paid off. "

Bowers thrust out his lips. He had seen men come in from the woods withtheir pockets full of money, and that was bad enough, but without money--!

"I've had a talk with Manson who seems good for it, and the works will beunder heavy guard. That's all we can do in the meantime. I'm going toPhiladelphia as soon as possible. "

"But not at once?"

Clark smiled. "No, not at once. "

XXII. --THE MASTER MIND AT WORK

Bowers went thoughtfully home and; next morning, flung himself into hiswork with renewed courage. He had need of it--they all had need of it. There were now thousands who waited for their pay, and daily theseranks were swelled by others who drifted in from the woods. Hundredsof merchants began to refuse credit, though Filmer valiantly used allhis resources. St. Marys was, in truth, stupefied, and when the firstshock began to smooth itself out, the reality of the thing becamegrimly apparent, and then arose the first rumor of trouble inIronville, that straggling settlement of shacks where dwelt the boneand muscle of the works. 

To the Swede and Polander there was no suggestion of achievement in thevast buildings in which they labored. It was only the place where theyearned their living. They worked amongst giant mechanisms beside whichthey were puny, but theirs was a life of force and strength which tookfrom them the fear of anything that was merely human. Thus surprisechanged to resentment, and resentment began to resolve itself into aslow and consuming anger. The works were dead, but in the main officethe accounting staff was bending desperately over statementsimperatively demanded by Philadelphia. The black browed Hungarians sawthe lights at night, and felt that they were being played with by thosemore powerful than themselves. If a furnace man was discharged, whykeep on these scribblers?

Outside St. Marys the news ran apace. Toronto papers dwelt on it, andthe Board of Trade read it with regret mingled with thankfulness thatClark had embarked on no financial campaigns in their own city. Thorpewent carefully over the Philadelphia acceptances in his vault, andwondered what they were worth. To St. Marys set out a stream ofrepresentatives of various creditor companies, that filled the localhotels and journeyed out to the works and came back unsatisfied. Philadelphia dispatches were devoured, and the word "reorganization"was one to charm with. One by one, the Company's steamers slid up tothe long docks, made fast and drew their fires, till it seemed that theworks, like a great octopus, was withdrawing every arm and filament itever had radiated, and was coiling them endlessly at its cold andclammy side. Yet, for all of this, it did not seem possible that thewhole structure was tumbling, the structure on which so many years oflabor--so much genius and enthusiasm--so many millions--had beenlavished, until one afternoon a drunken Swede threw a stone into abutcher's window in Ironville and, putting forth a horny hand, seized aside of bacon and set forth, reeling, down the street. Two hours laterthe startled chief accountant, from a window in his office, saw a swarmof a thousand men surge through the big gates of the works and, trampling the guard, flow irregularly forward. 

The mob spilt on, a river of big strong men, unaware of its ownstrength. They were not bent on willful destruction, but the wholemass was animated by an inchoate desire to find out something foritself. At the door of the rail mill stood the superintendent and hisfiremen, with drawn revolvers. The rioters liked these men becausethey worked with and understood them. They were not associated withthe present trouble. So on to the administration building, where theoffice staff looked out, petrified with fear. Here, the mob decided, was another breed, so there commenced a hammering on the big oaken doorand stones showered through the windows. 

At this, Hobbs, stricken with mortal terror, and oblivious of the girlswho gathered around him, lost his head. There was no escapedownstairs, but opposite his desk was a grated iron window that led onto an adjoining roof. Noting it desperately, he heaved up his softbody and made a plunge for safety. But such was his bulk that, thoughhead, arms and shoulders went through, he stuck there, anchored in aniron grip. 

"Help!" he called chokingly, "Help!"

The mob looked up and stared, when from the rear ranks came a bull-likeroar of laughter. Then another burst out and another, till from theground spouted a fountain of jeers, hoots and ridicule that reached thefat man as he hung suspended, with purple face and gesticulating arms. 

Clark, in his office, waiting coolly for what might come, caught thechange in the note of riot and, stepping into the next room, saw thelegs of his comptroller brandished in the air. The rest of him wasinvisible, and still in the square outside rocked the booming shouts ofSlavic and Scandinavian mirth. A moment later Hobbs was dragged back, with torn clothing, swollen neck and scratched body. Clark glanced athim contemptuously and went out. Then the doors opened, and he was onthe front steps. 

The mob saw him and held its breath. Few of them had ever been so nearhim before. He stood with a quiet smile on his face and a light in hiskeen eyes, and, in the momentary hush, began to speak. There was nofear in voice or attitude. The wind, blowing from the rapids, broughtthe echo of their clamor to the upper windows so that the accountingstaff heard not a word, but the mob heard, and presently the big Polelaughed, just as he had laughed at Hobbs' distorted face suspendedabove him. It was contagious, and Clark, playing upon the mood of themoment, drove home his point. 

The money was coming, and he himself would stay there till it came. Inthe meantime, the money would be slower to arrive if there was trouble, and that was all he had to say. 

There followed a little hesitation, then an indefinite movement, andthe crowd began to shuffle toward the shattered gates. As it dwindledClark glanced over his shoulder and saw a man within twenty feet, bothhands thrust eloquently into his bulging coat pockets. 

"Thanks very much, Belding, I'm glad it wasn't necessary, " he saidcrisply, and vanished inside the big doors. 

The engineer knew better than to follow, but was bitterly disappointed. He had hoped for some word of comfort, but to not a single employee hadClark said anything of explanation. It was not his habit, and helooked to the intelligence of each man to carry him through. And thiswas typical of his invariable attitude toward those with whom he camein contact. He gauged them by the degree to which they contributed tothe work on hand, and just now the only work on hand was that whichnone but himself could carry out. In personalities Clark was notinterested, but identified them only by some very definite achievementhe was able to hang round their necks like a label. 

Belding saw to it that his own offices were guarded and walked to thehead of the rapids. He felt numbed. If Clark had conceived the works, he himself had built them, and, as they grew under his hand, he feltthat something of his own existence went forth with every stroke of adrill, and that a fragment of his brain lay in every course of masonry. Like all true engineers, he delighted in the physical expression of hisability, and here had been such an opportunity as few engineers everrealized. He felt not so much dejected as dumbfounded that so muchskill and labor could be brought to a full stop just as it reached itspermanent stride. In his eyes the figure of Clark had long achievedtitanic proportions. Innumerable things had been demonstrated to bepossible, and to be chief engineer of such an enterprise had been, thought Belding, all that any man could ask. It was true that in thefatigue of work he had often imagined that Clark was going too fast, but always the thing had been done. Now it seemed the ironical jest ofthe gods that a shade too much carbon in a steel rail should wreck thewhole endeavor. 

And there was Elsie. He had never been able to give her up. Againstthe glamour of his chief's personality he had nothing to put forwardexcept a whole souled worship, and Elsie, it appeared, preferred theinvitation of the older man's romantic career. Subconsciously, Beldingdecided that the thing was wrong and against nature, for he was markedby a certain simple belief in the general fairness of life. He clungto the doctrine of compensation, and held himself trustingly open towhatever good influences might reach him. Elsie was the highestinfluence of all. In Clark he had found a stimulus that nerved hisbrain to great accomplishments. But Elsie and Clark had togetherwounded his very spirit. 

Clark, in the quiet of his private office, was thinking not of Beldingor Elsie, but of the mob that had trailed so uncertainly out of the biggates. He had played for time and he had won--but that was all. Sooner or later, driven by the impossibility of living without pay, themob would return, and in a less placable mood. He turned to thetelephone. "I want Mr. Filmer. " In a moment he was speaking to themayor. 

"What happened up here to-day is but a taste of what's coming. You'dbetter get out the militia, if Manson can't handle it. Bowers tells meI can do very little from a point of law, and we look to you forprotection. "

"The militia won't help you much. " Filmer's voice was a little shaky. His son was in the militia, but he himself had never taken that bodyvery seriously. It was a matter of uniform, a band and a field day ortwo in the year--that was all. 

"Well, Bowers tells me that if we kill any one in protecting the placewe'll have a nasty time of it, so it's up to you. If the local militiaare no good, get some up from Toronto. I warn you they'll be needed. Ask Belding if you like, he saw it all. "

He leaned back and began a cold blooded survey of the situation. Hewas not in any way desperate, but he turned involuntarily to theresources of his own brain for some solution. It was certain that noimmediate help could be expected from Philadelphia. He was left quiteofficially and deliberately to stem the tide as best he could, and, inspite of the gravity of the moment, smiled at the thought that hisdirectors leaned on him in their extremity. They did not know what todo, therefore he must know. Then suddenly his mind reverted to Semple, and he spent the next few moments in profound thought. "Get hold ofMr. Semple, " he said to his secretary, "and bring him here. "

In half an hour Semple appeared, flustered and a little pale. A visitto the works just now filled him with apprehension. It seemed likesmoking in a magazine. 

"What's the matter?" said Clark, smiling at his agitation. 

Semple drew a long breath and, noting the thickness of the officewalls, felt a little safer. 

"That's what I was going to ask _you_. "

"Only a slight difficulty that you will help to put right. "

Semple stared with astonishment. The bottom had apparently fallen outof the works, but Clark was as cool as ever. 

"Help?" he demanded, puzzled. Clark evidently did not stand to losemuch in the smash. "You're holding these fellows, aren't you?"

"Yes, for the immediate present, but we'll have to do more. That'swhere you come in. "

The member for Algoma was at sea, and said so. 

"You represent the Government here, " went on Clark, "and we've spentseventeen million dollars in these works. Do you see the conclusion?"

"No, I don't. "

"Your government must help us over the stile. Just so long as thosemen remain unpaid, life won't be very safe in St. Marys. "

Semple looked round apprehensively. "But my government doesn't livehere. What have I got to do with it?"

"I don't know, but, by virtue of pressure you will exert, theGovernment must help. What's the Liberal majority in Ontario?"

"One. I'm it. "

"Then you keep the Premier in power, and he's hanging on to power likegrim death. "

"But I don't see--"

"It's simple enough. If you settle this affair to the satisfaction oflocal people, you'll secure Algoma to the Liberal party, so long asthat party wants it. "

"By God!" said Semple, startled. 

Clark apparently did not hear him. "There's another thing--to setthose works in motion again will be the biggest advertisement anygovernment in Canada ever had. It will swing the labor vote--it willsecure the merchants' support. " He paused, then leant forward andpoured into Semple the full pressure--the accumulated effort of mindand spirit. "Ample security is available. I will make repayment thefirst obligation of the Company--it will forestall bonds and everythingelse. What I want, and what you will find for me, is only a fractionof the sum that has been put straight into this Province; and it's notmuch more than we have already paid in mineral and lumber dues andtaxes. "

"How much?" said Semple in a fascinated whisper. 

"Two million dollars. "

"But--"

"There aren't any buts. "

"Do you owe that in wages?" Semple was aghast. 

"Wages are only a small part of what must be paid at once. "

"Where does Philadelphia come in?"

"Philadelphia, " smiled Clark, "has left the entire matter to me in themeantime. They are making arrangements which may not be consummatedfor some months. We can thank a prominent American speculator for mostof this. But the Province of Ontario owes us something. Doesn't itoccur to you, " he added slowly, "how your personal reputation will beaffected?"

Semple blinked several times and very rapidly. "I'll wire at once, " hesaid, with a long breath. 

"You'll do nothing of the kind. You'll go down yourself thisafternoon. You know your man, and I know him; and he knows the works. He's been here several times. Put the matter straight, --tell him thatwe are dealing with forces that can only be met in one way. It'seither this, or destruction and bloodshed. I've asked Filmer to wirefor troops. Mr. Semple, what you are about to make is a new move onthe chessboard. Your man is shrewd enough to see it, and it's the newmoves that win. This is not so much politics as economics--tell himthat. I'd go with you--but I must not leave St. Marys just now. Wireme as soon as possible--you've just time to catch your train. "

The color climbed into Semple's cheeks, and he went quickly out withhis head up. Clark glanced after him and his lips twisted into a smile. 

"I give him forty-eight hours. If it doesn't come by that--we'll ringdown the curtain, " he said to himself thoughtfully. 

He went out and walked, for hours, through the deserted buildings. They were full of hollow mockery. Watchmen, posted by Belding atstrategic points, glanced after him curiously. He seemed lonely anddiminutive in this mechanical wilderness of his own creation. Theywondered how a man felt in such a position as his at a time like this. He dared not go to the rapids, lest he read in their uproar some newand menacing note. He thought lingeringly of Elsie. She seemed farfrom this crisis, and at the same time curiously a part of it. Neverdid he feel more certain of the girl's affection than now, and it cameto him what a refuge a woman's breast might be for a man in such caseas himself. In the moment his forceful brain protested at the thoughtof refuge. 

He tramped on with a slow wonder at the magnitude of his ownactivities. Here and there, individual buildings stimulated poignantmemories of the occasion that brought them forth. The sulphur plantassumed an aspect of derision. Beneath the huge dimensions of thehead-race he seemed to discern the obliterated canal over which St. Marys came to grief. Was he himself to be brought down by its titanicsuccessor? He stared up the lake, comparing himself with the voyageurwho had once floated out of this wide immensity to trade at St. Marys. He, too, had been trading at St. Marys. "Big magic!" old Shingwauk hadsaid, when his dark eyes beheld the works. Was it, after all, barelypossible they were nothing but magic?

XXIII. --CONCERNING THE RIOT

Next morning came a rap at his office door and Baudette entered, treading very lightly. Clark looked up and shook his head. 

"I haven't got any money yet. "

"I don't want any money. "

The gray eyes softened a little. "You're the only man I've met whodoesn't. What is it?"

Baudette pointed out of the window. 

Clark got up and glanced at the open space in front of theadministration building. There lounged some fifty men, the pick ofBaudette's crew, big and broad shouldered, in light colored woollenjackets, shoepacks and blazing shirts. Each toyed with an ax handlethat swung lightly between strong, brown fingers. They were aloose-jointed lot, active as cats, and moved with the superlative easeof the skilled woodsman. Clark's jaw thrust out and he glanced grimlyat his visitor. 

"If they think they can get it that way, they're mistaken. "

"You don't understand, " came the even voice. "These are my friends, and yours. St. Marys is full of people who are after you. They arehungry for money, and they're coming for it. This crowd reckons theirmoney is all right and will help you talk back. "

Clark drew a long breath and caught the clear blue of Baudette's eyes. Then he nodded and began to smile. 

"Thank you, friend, " he said with a catch in his breath. "I might haveknown it. "

Hours dragged by. That night there was looting in Ironville, and thelocal grocers suffered a sudden depletion of stock. Morning broke, gray and threatening, while through shack and cabin an ugly temperspread steadily. Clark perceived that the real thing was coming now. Once or twice he thought of Semple, who must already be closeted withthe Premier. 

Just before midday a howling mob gathered swiftly outside the biggates, when instantly Baudette and his fifty axemen ran up and joinedthe guards. The crowd increased, and there went out an imperativesummons to Manson who, with his thirty police, ranged himself half amile away on the road to St. Marys. But for this the town was utterlyunprotected. Came the pad pad of flying feet, and Fisette dashed up, swinging a prospecting pick. He grinned at the big constable. 

"By Gar!" he panted, "I guess we catch hell now. "

Followed a little pause, broken only by the deep threatening note ofthe crowd. Then Belding felt a touch on his shoulder. 

"Open the gates, " said Clark evenly, "I want to speak to them. "

The engineer stared at the set face. His chief's eyes were likepolished steel, and his jaw thrust out. There was no fear here. 

"Stay inside, sir. They'll kill you. "

The front rank caught sight of the erect figure. Then silence fellover them and spread slowly through the dark-browed multitude, Clarkraised an imperative finger. The gates opened a fraction, and in frontof them stood the man in whom the rioters perceived the head of theirpresent world. 

"I want to tell you that your money is coming, and that I stay heretill you are paid, " rang the clear voice. 

For an instant there came no answer, but presently from the rear ranksrose again a bull-like roar. 

"You tell us that last week. "

Followed a murmur that ran through the packed mass of broad shoulders. 

"I tell you again--and it's true!"

For reply, a short iron bolt came hurtling through the air. It tookClark on the cheek. He seemed not to feel it, but stood undaunted, while a trickle of blood crept down his smooth face. The sight of itseemed to rouse some latent fury in the mob, and a deep growl soundedominously. He felt himself jerked suddenly back, and Belding andBaudette jumped in front of him. The woodsman balanced a great shiningaxe, and the engineer's automatic gleamed dully. 

"Get inside, sir, quick!"

For the first time in his life, Clark felt himself passed from hand tohand, and landed, fuming, on the other side of the big gates. Thevoice of the mob lifted to an infuriated howl. Simultaneously the rearranks pressed forward. 

Fighting began the next instant. Belding's revolver barked viciously, while he shot low at legs and feet. Three men went down to be engulfedin the oncoming tide. Baudette was standing firm, his cold blue eyesalight with the fire of battle. His broad axe was cutting swiftcircles around him, while he dodged a shower of missiles. To right andleft of him fifty axe handles rose and fell like flails, and behindthem was all the skill and sinew of those who dwell amongst big timber. Then a jagged fragment of iron casting took Baudette on the knee, andhe went down. 

The battle grew, while the faithful ranks thinned visibly. Justthrough the big gates lay the battlemented works, and toward thempressed the mob, now drunk with the hunger to destroy. At the momentwhen it seemed that the living barrier must collapse, the rioterswheeled to meet a new attack. With the sound of fighting, Mansonpushed on and now struck hard. His thirty constables set their batonsgoing, and there came the heavy crack of loaded wood on thick skulls. Fisette, his eyes gleaming, was tapping like a deadly woodpecker withhis pick, and the impetus of this onslaught drove a formidable wedgeinto the surging mass. Manson's great voice bellowed unspeakablethings in the lust of combat, his dark visage distorted, his mightybody gathered into a great, human battering ram. 

Presently the constable too went down with a shattered arm, and theline of police shortened and curved. Fisette found himself throttledby a muscular arm which shot round his neck, and two minutes later theywere surrounded and fighting for their lives. 

The battle surged and palpitated. What remained of Baudette's axemenwere behind the big gates, where Belding had dragged the prostrateforeman. Clark stood in absolute calmness, though he knew thatpresently this barrier would be battered down. 

Belding drew a long breath and shot a fascinated glance at his chief. It flashed into his mind that Clark was getting punishment now, notonly in the eyes of the world, but also in the eyes of the man fromwhom he had taken that which was dearest and best. But his leader'sgaze was as clear as ever. 

"It can't last much longer, sir, " he shouted through the uproar. Hisautomatic was empty, and he could only watch the front rank of rioterspick up a great baulk of timber and balance it opposite the gates. Then a sudden chill struck to his very soul. What would happen in St. Marys?

Clark, staring at him, just as suddenly perceived what was in his mind. 

"Take my launch, " he called into his ear. "You can land at the house. Hurry! Don't mind about me. "

Belding hung for a moment in frantic uncertainty, and shook his head. He was next in command here, but a short mile away was his heart'sdesire, defenseless, save for what resistance could be hastilyorganized in the town. It was questionable what that was worth, andhis whole soul commanded him to go to her. For an instant he feltsick, then over him flooded the cold conviction that, even though hesaved Clark for Elsie, he must stay and see this thing through. 

Suddenly from far down the road came a sharp rattle, that pierced theuproar and brought a grim, inflexible message. Clark heard it, andover his face stole an expression of relief. The mob heard it, andthrough their surging ranks ran that which sobered and cooled theirfury. Manson, prostrate and bloody, heard it, and Fisette, and all theothers who had fought, it seemed, their last fight. The rioters beganto dissipate like blown leaves in autumn, and a rippling line ofinfantry in open formation moved rhythmically up the road from St. Marys. 

Clark drew a long breath and looked curiously at his engineer. 

"You saved my life, Belding. " He hesitated a moment, and addedthoughtfully, "Now, why should you want to do that?"

Belding stared and a lump rose in his throat. He had lost and yet hehad won, --been defeated and yet had risen to something bigger than hehad ever achieved before. He could face the future now, even though itwere written that he should face it alone. He tried to speak, thenturned on his heel and walked towards the dock, where Clark's fastlaunch lay glinting in the sun. 

The gray eyes followed him in profound contemplation. Presently Clarksmiled, it seemed a little sadly, and advanced to the officercommanding the troops. Baudette was sitting up. Manson, his face graywith pain, was nursing a dangling arm, and round them the derelicts ofbattle were strewn grotesquely. But it was Fisette who spoke first. 

"By Gar!" he said with flashing teeth, "she's one big fight, eh!"

Silence spread again over the works. An armed picket was left at thebig gates, while the rest of the troops patrolled suddenly desertedstreets in Ironville. In the accounting office there began again theclicking of typewriters, and Clark, at his desk, dictated a dispatch toPhiladelphia. This done, he fell into a mood of strange abstraction. The car of destiny was traveling fast. 

Just then the telephone rang, and he took up the receiverautomatically. As in a dream Elsie's voice came in, tremulous but veryclear. He smiled wearily as he listened. 

"Thank you very much, " he said in answer. "There is really no seriousdamage done, except to a few foolish heads; and, " he added, "pleasethank Mr. Belding again for me, --yes, he'll understand. "

A hush fell in the office again, and he felt inexpressibly alone. Hewas not in any sense hopeless, being assured that in the vast machineof his own creation were inherent qualities of life that could never beextinguished. He was strong, since for himself he desired nothing. Inthis hour of uncertainty his imagination traveled far, but again andagain it was captured by the remembrance of his days with the bishop. This had nothing to do with works, and yet in a way they wereintimately connected. The bishop had demonstrated the operation ofhigh and subtle forces to which he himself had not given much thought. The bishop had saved his life, just as Belding had saved it, and hestill seemed to feel the working of big muscles under his twitchingpalms. There flashed back what the prelate had said about beingprepared for the worst, which after all was sometimes the best, and, with half closed eyes, he wondered whether this was the occasion. There sounded a knock at the door, and the bishop himself came in. 

Clark, getting up hastily, advanced to meet him. There were only threepeople in the world he would have cared to see at that moment, and herewas one of them. 

"Come in and sit down, sir. This is very good of you. "

"It took me two hours to get here, " said the big man, breathing alittle hard. "It's rather difficult traveling to-day. "

Clark stared at him. He had always thought of the bishop as anexemplar of peace, but he had arrived almost on the tail of the riot. 

"I only reached town a short time ago, " the visitor was smilingcheerfully, "and heard about the trouble. Now that I'm safely here, I'll only stay a minute. "

Clark shook his head. "You are very welcome, sir. "

The bishop nodded contentedly. "I just wanted to express my sympathywith your present anxiety, and my belief that everything will come allright. "

"You do believe that?"

"Unquestionably. Such efforts as yours are not foredoomed. I see you, too, are of my opinion. "

"I have to be, " said Clark reflectively. 

"I'm not at all surprised, since you can turn to the physical evidenceof your own efforts to support you. It gives you an advantage overmyself. "

"Does it?"

The visitor pointed to the mass of buildings close at hand. "You haveall that, and there is no doubt that inanimate things possess apeculiar influence, either strengthening or otherwise. But still I canquite imagine what it means to you to sit here and listen to silencewith so many reminders about you. It is one of the things that theservants of humanity must occasionally face. "

"Servants?" said Clark curiously. 

"Is not a leader also a servant. Has he anything left for himself, andis it not just a different term for the same thing?"

The other man experienced a strange sensation that he had discoveredthis a long time ago. The bishop had also discovered it, but had notforgotten. 

"I have it in my mind that there is another reason why you should notbe depressed, " went on the prelate assuringly. "You have alwaysdemanded too much of yourself; and while you are many kinds of a manyou cannot be all kinds. "

This was also true. "Go on, sir. "

"I have developed no commercial ability, but admit a strong commercialinterest, and sometimes think I could have been a good business manmyself. I roughly divide them into two classes, --one very large andthe other very small. "

"Successful and unsuccessful, I assume?"

The bishop's face was very thoughtful. "That depends on what you meanby 'success. ' Wealth, for instance, does not necessarily stand forsuccess. You, if I may say so, are a practical idealist, for you havefaith in your dream. You have achieved a vision revealed to few men'seyes and--"

A gentle knock at the door cut him short. The secretary came in with atelegram, and something in the face of the latter made Clark's heartleap within him. A few seconds later he placed the yellow slip in thebishop's hands, and gazed at him with twinkling eyes. 

Ontario government advances two million on offered security and hasnotified your bank. 

SEMPLE. 

The bishop read it over slowly. "How can I congratulate you? Whatsplendid news!"

"You have congratulated me. "

"Eh! When?"

"You said I had faith in my dream. Now I beg of you not to move, butjust see how things work. "

In the course of the next ten minutes, the prelate saw Clark in swiftaction. Automatically the clear brain marshaled all the pressingduties of the moment and discharged them in quick succession. Messagesto Filmer, to the military authorities, to various impatient creditors, were dispatched, for in this masterful hand was gathered every filamentthrough which a vitalizing energy would again permeate the works. Theflexible intellect of the man worked with a precision that wasimpressive. Presently the bishop rose to go. He stood, an imposingfigure, animated with benign understanding and good will. 

"Good-by, till we meet again. I rejoice with you in what has justtaken place, but you are a prophet and all prophets are on a precariouspedestal. Had you been in the pursuit of wealth I could not havetalked as I have to-day. "

Clark did not answer, and in the hush the voice of the rapids lifted amelodious chorus. 

"But after all does it matter how deep the water through which any manpasses if the community at large benefits?"

"I don't know what they would say to that in Philadelphia. "

"Possibly, but in an economic sense what has happened is that some ofthe wealth of Philadelphia has been transferred here. This will be afew weeks' sensation--and then will follow a fresh one. That is of thenature of things. But long after you and I have moved on, the forestsand mines of this district will be adding to the strength of thecountry. Those men who have backed you have contributed with you andmade it possible. Mr. Clark, I have no fear for the future of theworks or of yourself. "

Clark's lips curved into a rare smile. "Neither have I, sir. "

His visitor departed, and he got on to the Philadelphia wire with thecurt information that two million dollars had been secured from theOntario government, and asked permission to continue work. Simultaneously the news spread like a forest fire. The militia foundthere was nothing to contend with. Merchants surveyed their lootedstores and swore vengeance, but in a modern Arcadia one cannot arresttwo thousand foreigners. There were blocks of buildings with frontssmashed in; dangling knots of wires; prostrate electric light poles;scattered stones and bolts and shivered fences, but the rioters, to aman, were back, dandling their babies and waiting for the morrow. Itwas as though a hurricane had blown fiercely through the town, and thendied over the encircling hills. And in the bank office Brewster wasthoughtfully reading two telegrams from Thorpe, one commending hisattitude for the past few weeks, the other authorizing him to creditthe Consolidated account with two million dollars. 

A few days later Wimperley and Birch arrived. It was their answer toClark's suggestion that work be continued without delay and, as usual, he quite correctly interpreted the manner of their reply. His energyhad saved the situation which it had created, but, in spite of this, there was a new spirit in the financial circles of Philadelphia. Hewas dubbed a dangerous man. He was, they considered, too swift as wellas too hypnotic. To continue to identify themselves with hisundertakings was deliberately boarding a runaway train. Added to this, the interlinking of companies which had been presumed to be a factor ofstrength was now shown as an element of weakness. When one lost money, all lost it. 

When Wimperley, unfolding his mind steadily and without interruption, told Clark that the old régime was at an end, the latter, at first, wasnot much impressed. But gradually the case became clearer. 

"I don't say we don't trust you, " he said, "but candidly, we're afraidof you. Just two things are needed to secure the operation of theworks, --new money and new management; and it's possible the new crowdwon't want you. Philadelphia has been sucked dry so far as concernsus. "

"Any suggestions?" put in Clark quietly. 

"Not yet. We're in correspondence with London people, and they'llprobably come out. When they do, " continued Wimperley, eying the otherman meaningly, "we'll turn them over to you. "

"Is that it?" The voice had a profundity of meaning. 

Wimperley nodded. "I thought you'd understand. You got us in, and nowyou've got to pull us out. "

"And pull myself out too, " said Clark dryly. "Thanks. "

"Would you prefer that the works stay idle with you or get busy withoutyou?" interjected Birch pointedly. 

"When it comes to that--if it does--I'll let you know. In themeantime--?"

"Don't turn a wheel except for town utilities, and now we'd like to seeBowers. You probably don't realize what we've been through inPhiladelphia. Consolidated isn't what you'd call gilt edged just now, and the corners are knocked off our reputation as business men. I justmention this in case you feel aggrieved. "

Clark grinned suddenly. "I'm not worrying either about my stock or mybusiness reputation. Your difficulty is that you don't see why any oneelse should pull through where we didn't. "

Wimperley nodded. "There's something in that. What we've got now isthe job of making Consolidated stock worth something--by earnings. Itmeans cutting out the dead wood--our own dead wood, and I don't fancythe contract. It hurts to chop down the tree you helped to plant--butit's the only way out of it. There will probably be months before thismachine will start up again, and move toward permanent success. "

A day or two afterwards the two directors went back to Philadelphia, where they reported to Stoughton and Riggs that the screws were ontight. Save only the pumps and generators, not a wheel turned in theConsolidated. Birch's conclusion was that millions more were needed. Consolidated stock settled down to a nominal value that fluctuated withconflicting reports of new capital having been found, but the wholeaffair was flat--indescribably flat. And meantime Birch--with theunprofitable burden on his shoulders--made pilgrimages to test thefinancial pulse, and for months returned empty handed. 

In St. Marys it seemed that Arcadia might be reborn, --not the old timeArcadia with its sleepy village atmosphere, but a modern one in whichfolk made up their minds to live on the profits of past years. The carservice was reduced, and half the street lamps removed. There wereempty houses in the new streets, and the property which once passedthrough Manson's hands could have been re-bought at the original price. Filmer and the rest reduced their stock, while the whole overbuilt, overgrown town settled down to wait till, after a weary interval, Clarkgot off the train with two strangers and drove up to the big house onthe hill. In half an hour Bowers, who was expecting them, completedthe quartet. 

It was an unusual group that gathered that night in the dining room. Ardswell and Weatherby had spent a week in Philadelphia beforeWimperley telegraphed Clark to come down. The story was plain enough. The two Englishmen had come from London to hear it, --and it was toldwell. But Wimperley and Birch shared the belief that Clark, in themeantime, should be kept in the background, lest his hypnosis shouldenvelop them as of old. They held him, as it were, a reserve store ofinfluence to be used at the proper time, and it was not till thefinancial aspect of the affair was thoroughly digested that he wascalled in to play his appointed part. 

Ardswell and Weatherby wanted to see whether the machine could be madeto run commercially. That it was not so running was obviously thefault of those in charge, and Clark at once determined not to attemptto make former mistakes less glaring. The more obvious they wereallowed to remain, the more easy their rectification. He was too muchin love with the works to dodge this sacrifice, and yet could notconceive their continuing without him. 

Assuming this onerous duty, he was perfectly aware that he dealt withminds of a new complexion. Instead of responsive Americans, heconfronted two cool-blooded Britishers, to whom any show of spontaneitywas out of place. They were on guard, and Clark knew it, and of allhis achievements none stands out more prominently than his attitude onthe three days that followed. He became a Britisher himself. Heassumed, quite correctly, that nothing would be accepted without proof. 

Tramping about the works, they were accompanied by the superintendentsof the various departments, to whom he referred the pointed questionsthat came so frequently in high-pitched, well modulated English voices. What Clark said himself was very curt and to the point. The works, hedecided, could talk for themselves. Coming last to the pulp mill, Ardswell ran an admiring eye down the long rank of machinery, rangedlike sleeping giants in a dwindling perspective. 

"I say, " he remarked involuntarily, "I'd like to see the thing turnover. Could it be arranged?--at our expense of course, " he added. 

Clark nodded to the superintendent, who was close behind, and presentlythe day watchmen were twisting at the turbine gate wheels. A softtremor ran through the building, growing steadily to a deep, hoarserumble as the massive grindstones revolved faster. The floor vibratedin a quick rhythm, and in a few seconds came the full drone ofwork--that profound and elemental note of nature when she toils at thebehest of man. 

The faintest flicker of light stirred in the blue English eyes. Ardswell had been walking from turbine to turbine. "Ripping!" he said. "You might shut down now. "

The titans dropped one by one into slumber. When the last vibrationwas stilled, he looked up with a new respect. "We might go ahead ifyou don't mind. "

"Take a quarter of an hour first, and follow me. "

They struck southward, and the Englishmen heard the boom of the rapidsdeepen till they came to the edge of the river at Clark's observationpoint. There was a strong easterly wind, and it caught at the snowycrests of the bigger waves, spinning them out like silver manes ofleaping horses. These flashed in the sunlight, till, over the centralridge of water, the air was full of a fine, misty spray that hungpalpitating and luminous. Here was a torrential life--born of theendless and icy leagues of Lake Superior. 

The two strangers stared fascinated, and as Clark watched them heperceived that once more the ageless voice of the rapids was speakingto human ears, just as it had spoken to his own so many times--andyears before. He waited patiently, while the river lifted itselemental message, and saw the color rise in English cheeks and thecold, blue English eyes begin to sparkle again. What were the drabrecords of Birch's ledgers, or even the monumental pile of nearbybuildings, compared to this impetuous slogan? He stood silently, plunged in the psychology of the moment. 

"How much power--total I mean?" said Ardswell presently, pointing tothe ripping flood. 

"Two hundred and forty thousand horsepower, at a minimum. "

"By George!"

Silence fell again, till Weatherby, shaking the spray from his roughtweed coat, got up a little stiffly. 

"I begin to understand a little better now, " he said slowly with aneloquent glance. 

The car was waiting for them by the little lock--and here at the blockhouse the visitors displayed marked animation, Clark told them thestory very simply as they rolled off up the hill for lunch. 

"There's one man, the chief engineer, Belding--you met him at the headgates--that I would like to be remembered should we do business, " heconcluded very thoughtfully. "Belding was my first employee. I pickedhim up in St. Marys and he has stuck to it nobly. I probably gave himfar too much to do, but he never squealed; and there are other reasons. "

Weatherby looked up. "That's the big, fair haired chap we saw go offin the canoe?"

"Yes. "

"Well, " put in Ardswell tersely, "it will probably all depend onyourself. "

XXIV. --DESTINY

Up in the big bay that lies next the head of the rapids, Belding wasdrifting aimlessly. He was still obsessed with a sense of the hideoususelessness of effort, and wanted to be alone. At one time Elsie usedto be here in the bow of the canoe, but now it seemed that Elsie hadlittle thought for him. And yet he could have sworn that, two yearsago, she loved him. 

He began to paddle, with a sharp and growing resentment, and found adeep satisfaction in the thrust of his broad blade. Soon he was nearlyhalf way across the river, and a mile down stream lifted the fabric ofthe great bridge. Slacking speed, he caught the pull of the current, and with it came a reckless impulse. No man had shot the middle of therapids and escaped with his life. It was true that the Indiansmaneuvered their long canoes down close to the opposite shore withventurous tourists, but it was only a film of water that wound, bubbling, near the land. With the deep-throated rumble only half amile away, Belding felt his pulse falter for a second, then poundviciously on. And in that second, with the bravado of early manhood, he threw discretion overboard, and set the slim bow of his Peterboro'for the middle span. Twenty seconds, later he knew that he was aboutto run the rapids--whether he would or not. 

Settling himself amidship, he gripped the thwart tight between calf andthigh and, resting the paddle across the gunwale, peered anxiouslyforward. His lips were a little dry, but he felt no fear. Being closeto the water, he could not see the rapids themselves but only the firstgreat, green curve, and below it the white tops of a multitude ofwaves. Then the middle span swept back overhead, he heard the river, split by the sharp piers, hissing along their rough sides and the canoesailed like a leaf into the first smooth dip. Came the vision of adistant shore sliding by, and the lower reach with a ferry steamerhalfway across, and Belding felt the canoe lift and quiver, while agreen wave flung its white crest in his face. He came through ratherthan over it, and just below caught a glimpse of one of those dreadedcellars that hid themselves in this tumult. Here, at all costs, hemust keep straight. 

The canoe, with no way on, swooped giddily into the great, emerald pit. There was a fleeting sensation of smooth, glittering, watery walls, till he was flung on and up into the backward foaming crest, and with adesperate effort wrenched the slim bow so that it took the rise headon. An instant followed in which the sky was blotted out, while oneach side rose pyramids of bubbling foam that seemed to meet over hishead, but between which he could see light and distance. The canoe, half full of water, was plucked onward, while Belding drew a longbreath and searched the chaos in front of him. 

Fifty yards down, opened a lane of green that curved beside and betweentwo cellars, each deeper than the last. He knew instantly that hecould not survive these, and, with every ounce of his strength, droveacross the broken river to the head of the chute. Making it in thenick of time, he plunged in, with the water sucking at his thighs, andthe sinews in his arms burning like fire. There followed a swiftdescent through cellars of dwindling depth, till he floated into thelong, spume-flecked swells at the foot of the decline, where the canoedrifted sluggishly, full nearly to the gunwale. And here Beldingleaned forward with his hands on her curved thwart, and pumped greatgulps of air into his empty lungs. Presently he stared around. He wasbelow the works of which he had seen nothing, and just opposite Clark'sbig house, whose roof lifted on the hill side a mile away. He haddared the rapids and come through safely, but Clark, he reflected, wasengulfed. 

Luncheon that day at the big house had been a silent affair, afterwhich the three men went out on the terrace and examined the panoramathat spread to the south. It was suggestive and inspiring. They hadbeen voiceless for some time, when Clark moved restlessly. 

"Shall we talk here, or go back to the office?"

"This is good enough for me, " said Ardswell; "are you ready forbusiness?"

"Certainly. "

"And may I ask two questions first, --one is a trifle personal?"

"Please ask them, if you wish; I have no personal secrets. "

"That's very decent of you. What I'd like to know is, first, what youfound here when you arrived seven years ago, and, second, what yourresources were at the time? You will not, of course, answer the lastunless you wish. "

Clark laughed almost boyishly. "Why I found only the rapids, and--Ihad no resources, --that is, except myself. "

"I thought so, and"--here the speaker glanced at Weatherby--"we wouldlike to congratulate you, I had an idea that this was the case. Now asto the present business, we have decided to make a proposal to yourboard. "

"I am glad of that, " said Clark briefly. He knew that the moment hadcome. 

"We hope it will meet with your support, " Ardswell hesitatedperceptibly and went on, pitching his voice a little higher, "and youwill not misunderstand my putting it rather baldly. The matter dependson two things: the reduction of the Consolidated capital fromtwenty-seven million to something about ten million and the wiping outof all common stock, and, " here he paused again while the blood creptslowly to his temples--"the other is a change in the executive. Thesebeing satisfactorily arranged, we will go ahead. That's about it, eh?"

"Yes, " put in the other, "but of course we could not go ahead, underany circumstances, without Mr. Clark's temporary assistance. I thinkin fairness to him we should make the case a little clearer. "

"It's fairly clear as it is, " said Clark without a trace of emotion. 

"We've never seen anything quite like this in any part of the world, "volunteered Weatherby, "and it is a remarkable thing for any one man tohave imagined and accomplished. Whether or not we take the matter up, it will always seem a catastrophe that your work and the work of yourdirectors should have been interrupted by a speculator. That's onething that strikes us both about American business--you have yourlions, and plenty of them, but you have too many wolves. Now, comingback to St. Marys, I beg that you won't misunderstand me when I saythat the originator of great things is very seldom a suitable executivefor permanent administration. It is too much to expect. In case wetake this up it would be necessary for us to have the administration inour own hands. You understand, of course, that an originator of bigthings is a much rarer person than a good executive, and it is largelyon account of non-imaginative qualities that the latter is the saferman. I would like to assure you, " he concluded with evident respect, "that we have never experienced more difficulty in making a suggestion. The case is extraordinary--we realize that. "

"What Weatherby has in his head, " added Ardswell, "is that you havedone what neither of us could ever have done, and he thinks it a wasteof valuable material to try and make an executive out--"

"Out of me, " interrupted Clark. "You may be quite right. " He hadexpected to feel alone, but the direct simplicity of these men appealedto him. It was not always, he reflected, that he was given anunprejudiced opinion, and he felt the safer since now he got it. 

"We believe that we are right, " it was Weatherby who spoke, "and areprepared to assume that responsibility. Like you, we have shareholdersto think of, and we feel that yours will not get any better offer. Weknow the financial world fairly well. "

Clark listened tensely. He was aware that the interests represented bythese two were of enormous influence and wealth. He realized, also, that instead of all this discussion, Wimperley might simply havenotified him that he was discharged, and that the new interests wouldnow take over. But Wimperley had done nothing of the kind. 

"One week in Philadelphia taught us much, but we have learned a greatdeal more up here, " continued Weatherby, "and it depended really on thepast three days whether we would make a proposal or not. From what wehave seen and what you have told us, we are satisfied. I might saythat your directors have already agreed to the reduction of capital, provided the matter of management is settled. So the future liesentirely with you. Your holdings in common stock are so large that itis essential you give your formal assent. "

Clark drew a long breath. He had come to the fork in the road. Thelabors of seven years rolled suddenly over his brain and engulfed it. Here were two men who drank his wine, then asked him to leave his verysoul to others. 

"Gentlemen, " he said slowly, "thank you for what you have said--but Ican't give you an answer at once. "

"There's no hurry, " replied Ardswell. "It's not a case for a snapdecision. "

Through Clark's mind ran a quizzical idea that these two understoodeach other admirably, and he wondered how things would have turned outhad he himself been one of a pair that did such team work. 

"Then later, to-night. "

The two nodded and moved off, talking earnestly, while Clarkexperienced a strange breathlessness. His soul was in tumult, and hereacted from the strain of the past few days. He perceived that withmen like himself and his visitors lay the great economic forces of theworld. And yet he was expected to make way. 

Passing slowly through the big gates, towards which he had walkedautomatically, he moved on beyond the pulp mills towards the rapids, asthough drawn by their insistent call. It was the call he had heard foryears, even in his very dreams. And there, on the great boulder wherehe had once found her before, sat Elsie. 

She had been there for an hour, gazing at the tumbled mass of foam andtrying desperately to disentangle her thoughts. But even as she gazed, Clark's face seemed to come in between; keen, strong, undefeated andsuggestive. It was not till now that she admitted to her own soul thathe had dominated her imagination for months past. His achievements, his peculiar independence, his swift versatility had captured hercrescent ambition, the ambition which he himself had unwittinglystimulated. She did not question whether this was love, she only knewthat in this season, when his work seemed to be tottering over hishead, she was ready to come to him and help rebuild it into somethingstronger and even greater. 

She did not start, but looked at him with a strange satisfaction, asthough it were meant from the first that they should meet at this timeand place. Her eyes were very grave, and in them was that which madeClark's pulse beat faster. Something whispered that each of them hadbeen saved over for this moment. 

"I haven't seen much of you for the past few months, " he said presently. 

"I know that, but I know why. Are things better now?"

He nodded. "They may be very shortly. "

"I'm so glad. You can't imagine how anxious I've been, --the riots andyour escape--and--"

"But I was anxious for you. "

"You shouldn't have been, " she said gently. "Mr. Belding told me thatyou wanted him to come to the house when things were at their worst, but he didn't like leaving you. Now tell me, are the works starting upagain?"

Clark drew a long breath. "I'll know very soon. "

"Then you'll settle down just like before, and it will be all a baddream?"

"Perhaps I will. " His voice lifted a little. 

"You're not going away?"

That was what he had come here to decide, and there flashed into hismind a curious conception that was both fanciful and reassuring. 

"Forget about the works for a moment; I want to ask you something. "

"But do I know?" She smiled doubtfully. 

"Yes, you'll know without any question whatever. It's the case of aman who worked very hard, and he didn't work for money or glory, oranything of that kind, but just because he loved it and couldn't helpit. "

"That sounds very like yourself. "

"There are many men like that, more than most people imagine, " he saidquietly; "and after this one had, so to speak, built the foundationsand walls, he had not money enough to put on the roof, and another mancame along and offered to do it. Of course, he would get the creditfor the whole building. It was a very important one, and it affectedthe lives and comfort of a great many people who would suffer if itwere not completed. "

The girl glanced at him strangely. "Is that all?"

"Yes, except that the people who lived there would naturally forget allabout the man who laid the foundations and built the walls, and wouldeven blame him and think only of the one who made the place habitablefor them. "

"But does that matter?" she asked quickly, looking at him. 

Clark took a long look at the animated face. "That he should beforgotten or blamed?"

"Yes. You said he worked for the love of it. He didn't ask for thanksor appreciation, and from what you tell me he wasn't that kind. " Sheturned swiftly: "It is yourself. "

"And if it were, that would not alter your judgment, would it?"

"Is it fair to ask?" Her eyes were full of a touching appeal. 

"A frank opinion is the fairest thing to me, " he said quietly. "I knowhow you would look at it. There's only one answer you could give. Ifit were otherwise it wouldn't be you: the first man has no alternative, has he?"

"No, " she whispered. Her face was pitiful, as though she had beensecretly and cruelly hurt. 

"Then it is the works I'm considering, " he continued slowly. "You'rethe only one I can tell just now, but if they go on, it must be withoutme. "

"But they're your works. You dreamed them and then built them. "

"I've had many dreams, Elsie. "

Her heart beat rapturously. It was the first time he had called herElsie, and her spontaneous spirit went out to this man who stood facingso great and sacrificial a decision. She longed to spend herself uponhim. Involuntarily she glanced up with profound pity and, turning, caught a glimpse of a canoe that whipped down stream under the middlespan of the great bridge. 

"Oh, look! he's going to be drowned. " She clutched Clark's arm insudden terror. 

The latter stared, while something rose in his throat. The canoe wasfamiliar. He had seen it a few hours before on the upper bay, and nowhis keen sight made out the figure of Belding. Instantly he graspedthe cause of this foolhardy deed. A glance at Elsie told him she wasunaware who it was that thus played with death. 

"Look, look!" she cried again. 

The canoe pitched into the first cellar, and in the mound of silverfoam they could discern only the slim and tossing bow. Presently itemerged and reeled on into the fury below. Elsie covered her eyes, andClark stood as though fascinated. What part had he played in thisperilous drama?

Vividly his mind flashed back to those first days, the beginning of theengineer's unswerving loyalty. Year after year he had never faltered, and at the end of it all, even though apparently robbed by his chief ofhis heart's desire, had thrust himself between Clark and the hoarsehatred of the mob. Came now an overwhelming sense of unworthiness, andClark asked of himself who was he to demand such sacrifice. Then, asthough a cloud had revealed the sun, the way became quite clear. 

"Elsie, " he said, "the canoe is all right, look!"

Down in the long, smooth swell at the foot of the rapids, it laysluggishly. The man dipped his paddle and began to move almostimperceptibly towards shore. The girl drew a long breath. 

"He's safe. "

"Yes, " said Clark earnestly, "he's very safe. Now I want to talk toyou. "

She brightened at once. "Do. "

"I've wanted to talk to you for months. Do you remember what we spokeof last?"

"Destiny, " she said softly. 

He nodded. "I see it plainly to-day, more plainly than ever before. Sometimes when a man is in deep water his sight gets keener. What Ihave been through in the last seven years is only a phase, it's not anepoch. I was meant to do it, and I did it with all my heart. Now I'mgoing to do something else, in order that the works may prosper. Youhave helped me to make that decision. "

"I?" she whispered faintly. 

He put a hand on her arm--it was his only caress. 

"Yes, Elsie, you. It is as though I had caught sight of a road whichwas very beautiful and tender, and I was tempted to take it. But it isnot my road. What the future has left for me I don't know, but it isnot here and I must meet it alone. "

He paused for a moment, and the girl's brown eyes filled with tears. Presently the steady voice continued. 

"Destiny is calling, and one cannot take a girl into a battlefield, forthat is what it is going to be. I'm a poor man again, Elsie, just as Iwas seven years ago. That does not matter, for I will be rich inmemories. "

"Don't, " she said brokenly, "don't!"

"Youth will go to youth, Elsie. "

"You mean--"

"I mean that the man you really love, is the man you saw run therapids. "

"Jim!" Her eyes were round with terror. 

"Yes, Jim, the best friend but one I found in St. Marys. Jim, full ofloyalty and courage and energy; Jim who wanted to give his life formine, though he thought he'd lost you. He had never really lost you, Elsie. The road that led to you seemed so attractive that I hesitated, till now I see that it was Jim's road. It always was. "

In the silence that followed she lifted her exquisite face. Her lipswere parted, and in her gaze was a light that came as throughdissolving mist. And then into their very souls crept the voice of therapids. Clark caught it, and perceived that the call was not for himalone but for thousands yet unborn, and there began to creep over himthe ineffable unction of labor. He realized how large was the world, and how much work yet remained to be done. His spirit was notsolitary, but linked forever with eternal realities, and through thecloud that obscured the present he could see his star of destinyshining undimmed. 

And Elsie! Elsie sat, her whole being shaken with overwhelmingemotion. Never had she so longed to be everything to this man as nowwhen, with prophetic power, his vibrant voice told her that he mustjourney on alone. In his accents she recognized the note of fate, andthe ground shifted under her feet. She saw her dream dissolving. Sheperceived that against his lofty spirit she herself must oppose nothingsmall and selfish, however poignant the moment. Summoning all herfortitude, she stretched out her hand. 

He stood for a moment, and she felt the pressure of his grasp. It waswarm and confident. When she looked up she was alone. 

It was hours afterwards that Ardswell and Weatherby lounged at theirwindows, overhanging the terrace. They were in dressing gowns andsmoking contemplative pipes. Down below was seated a motionless grayclad figure, clearly outlined in the moonlight. Ardswell saw him. 

"Poor devil!" he said under his breath. 

XXV. --THE UNCONQUERABLE SPIRIT

Two years later, Belding and Elsie were returning from Chicago, wherethe former had been purchasing machinery for the new company, of whichhe was chief engineer. Time had done well for them and for St. Marys. The six months' physical inactivity of the works were spent wisely, ifruthlessly, in weeding out unfertile growths and concentratingresources on those which were sound and promising. There was a sharpdistinction between this deliberate policy and the restless activitythat preceded it. 

St. Marys, too, had caught its breath and taken on permanency. Therewere no more surprises. The works became a factory, instead of aPandora's box, full of the unexpected. Property was stable, if lowerthan the high water mark, while Filmer and the rest settled down tosteady business, somewhat forgetful of the man to whom were due thefirst tendrils of the tree of progress. 

But Belding, growing constantly in mental stature, could never forget. His own position--his development--his authority, had come of theabiding faith bestowed on him nine years ago by one whom he had thenseen but for ten minutes. And as often as he saw the works therealization came over him. How many others, he wondered, felt as hedid?

They were approaching St. Marys, and, coming out of the dining car withElsie, he steadied her to their seat. Night was drawing on, but thecar remained unlighted, and simultaneously they noticed a man sittingacross the aisle, staring intently out of the window. Somethingfamiliar in the figure caught their attention. 

"It's Mr. Clark, " he whispered to his wife. 

She glanced across, and her fingers tightened on his arm. 

"Don't speak to him, Jim. "

"Why?"

"Look at him, can't you see?"

Belding looked, Clark was absolutely motionless, and had not changed afraction in two years. The train moved on, till it halted for a fewmoments on the great bridge. The air was cool and full of the deeproar of the rapids, and the car vibrated delicately with the huge steelgirders on which it rested. Two hundred feet away came the first, smooth dip that Belding would always remember. Immediately beneath, hehad slid into the chaos further on. 

The two young people did not stir, but watched the silent observer. Against the window they caught the dominant nose, the clean cut, powerful chin, the aggressive contour of head and shoulders. Clark wasleaning forward, his gaze exploring the well remembered scene. 

"Don't disturb him, " whispered Elsie again. 

Her husband pressed her hand, and they waited, wondering what thoughtswere passing through that marvelous brain. He was staring at theworks. It was all his--this dream come true; this vision portrayed insteel and stone. Out of nothing but water and wood and his own superbfaith he had created it, only to see this exemplification of himselfslip from his own hands into those of others, who had sponsored neitherits birth nor its magnificent development. What portion of his leader, pondered the engineer, had been incorporated in those vastfoundations--and what had life left in store to replace them for him?

The train was moving on, when Clark, turning suddenly, smiled and heldout his hand. 

"Glad to see you both, if only for a minute. I'm on my way back toRussia, where I'm carrying out large improvements for thegovernment--been there for the last year. By the way, Belding, did younotice that old, crooked birch beside the rapids? A big, fatkingfisher used to live there--we knew each other well. "

CONCLUSION

The sumac leaves, which through the summer months tapped delicately atmy study window, have turned a vivid scarlet, and one by one havefluttered to the ground. Here, by the mysterious process of nature, they will be incorporated with the rich soil, to nourish some otherlife that will later climb sunward. But in that life no one shallrecognize a sumac leaf. 

So it seems are the efforts of men. A few years of growth andaspiration--then the fiery bourgeoning to a climax, and, after that, incorporation in the soil of a forgetfulness that seems indifferentalike to their exertions and their ambitions. But the end is not here. Somewhere, and most certainly in some other form, the effort achievesimmortality and reasserts itself, indestructible and eternal. For suchare the myriad filaments of existence, and so indissolubly are menlinked with each other by invisible chains, that it is but seldom thatimpulse can be traced back to its birth, or courage to its startingpoint. 

Who then shall determine what is success and what is failure? Does thegrandeur of the reward establish the value of the service, or is it nottrue that, in the mysterious cycle of time, the richest field is notseldom sown by hands that have been without honor or recognition intheir season? Does wealth or authority spell success, or is it themeed of those who have given rather than taken, who have toiled on themountain side rather than sought the peaks of publicity? Clark came toSt. Marys a poor man, and he left it no whit the richer. What he made, he spent. And when the day of his departure dawned, he went as one whohad attempted and failed, carrying with him the resentment of those wholost, and few thanks from those who profited. 

But did Clark actually fail?

To-day the mines of Algoma are supplying steel rails for Asiaticrailways; the forests about St. Marys are yielding pulp for Australia, and the great power house is sending carbide to the mines of India. This and much more is the fruit of vision. What matter thatPhiladelphia stormed, and that the reins of government were snatchedfrom those masterful hands? The dream has come true. 

Consider for a moment this man, who is stranger to most. He desiredneither wealth nor ease, being filled with a vast hunger for creation, and to forest, mountain and river he turned with confidence and abidingcourage. It was as though nature herself had whispered misty secretsin his ear. Being a prophet, he suffered like a prophet, but theyears, rolling on, have enabled him to look back on the later flower ofhis earlier days, for it was written that he should plow and othersreap. And of necessity it was so. Like the prospector who finds goldin the wilderness and straightway shoulders his pack to seek forfurther treasure, his unwearying soul drove him on in steadfast pursuitof that which lay just over the hill. It was not the thing that lay athis feet which fascinated, but the promise of the morrow, whose dawnalready gilded the horizon of his spirit. 

Clark, with his impetuous energy, is typical of a country in which fewachievements are impossible. He provided his own motive power and usedhis hypnotic influence only in one direction--that of progress. Everfaithful to his destiny, he was too busy to have time to suffer, toooccupied to waste himself in regrets. Like the rapids themselves, hiswork moves on, and in its deep rumble may be distinguished the confusednote of humanity, striving and ever striving. 

THE END