The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 9, 1902, Page 4

X THE SUNDAY CALL. suddenly, “how is Lyman getting on?" Lyman, Magnus' eldest son, had never taken kindly toward ranch life. He re- sembled his mother more than he did Magnus, and had inherited from her a dis- taste for agriculture and a tendency toward a profession. At a time when Har- ran was learning the rudiments of farm- ing Lyman was entering the State Uni- versity, and, graduating thence, had spent three years in the study of law. But later on traits that were particularly his fath- er's developed. Politics interested him. He told himself he was a born politician, was diplomatic, approachable, had a tal- ent for intrigue, a gift of making friends eaflly, and, most indispensable of all, a veritable genius for putting influentiai men under obligations to himself. Al- ready he had succeeded in gaining for himself two important offices in the mu- nicipal administration of San Francisco, where he had his home—Sheriff’s attor- ney and, later on, Assistant District At- torney. But with these small achieve- ments he was by no means satisfied. The largeness of his father's character, modi- fied in Lyman by a counter-influence of selfishness, had produced in him an in- ordinate ambition. Where his father dur- ing his political career had considered himself only as an exponent of principles he strove to apply, Lyman saw but the office, his own personal aggrandizement. He belonged to the new school, wherein objects were attained not by orations be- fore senates and assemblies, byt by ses- elons of committees, caucuses, compro- mises and expedients. His goal was to be in fact what Magnus was only in name—Governor. Lyman, with shut teeth had resolved that some day he would it in the gubernatorial chair in Sacra- mento. “Lyman is doing well,” answered Mag- nus. “I could wish he was more pro- nounced in his convictions, less willing 1o compromise; but I belleve him to be earnest and to have a talent for govern- ment and civics. His ambition does him credit, and if he occupied himself a lit- tle more with means and a little less with ends, he would, I am sure, be the ideal servant of the people. But I am not afraid. The time will come when the Btate will be proud of him.” . As Harran turned the team into the driveway that led up to Annixter's house Magnus remarked: “Harra sn't that young Annixter porch?” rodded and remarked: way, Governor, 1 wouldn't seem too cordial in your invitation to An- nixter. He will be glad to come, I know, but if you seem to want him too much it is just like his confounded ob- stinacy to jection: ‘There 2 in that,” observed Magnu drew up at the porch of the He is a queer, cross- v, but in many ways ster- before, reading *Da- vid C and stuffing himself with dried prunes. When he recognized Magnus, however, he got up, though careful to_ give evidence of the most discomfort. He explained his reat length, protesting that was no better than a sponge- us_and Harran get a arink? There was whis- about. however, declined. He statsd asking Annixter to come s Muertos that evening for nner. Osterman and Brder- son would be there. At once Annixter, even to Harran's surprise, chin in the air, making excuses, g to compromise himself if he accepted too readily. No, he did mot think he could get around—was sure of it act. There were certain busi- nesses he had on hand that evening. He had practically made an appointment with & man at Bonneville. Then, tos, he was thinking of going up to San Frar cisco to-morrow, and needed his sle would go to bed early; and besides that, he was a very sick man; his stom- &ck was out of whack: if he moved @bout it brought the gripes back. No, they must get along without him. Magnus, knowing with whom he hail to deal, did not urge the point, being con- vinced that A ter would argue over the affair the rest of the morning. He resettled ran gather “Well,” he observed. ou know your Come if you can. We business best kA “I hear you are going to farm the whole of Los Muertos tkLis season,” re- marked Annixter, with a certain note of challenge in his voice. _ “We are thinking of if,” replied Mag- nus Annixter grunted scornfully. “Did you_get the message I sent you by Presiey?” he began. Tactless, blunt ana direct, Annixter was guite capable of calling eten Magnus a fool 10 his face. But before he could proceed §. Behrman in his_single buggy turned into the gate, and driving leisurely up to the porch halted on the other side of Magnus’ team. g to the two Derricks as though ad not seen them earlier in the day. Ann how do you do?” ¢ i do you want?” demanded ughed slightly and over his waiStcoat. v much, Mr. Annixter.” lied, ignoring the belligerency of the young ranchman’s voice, “but I will have to I protest against you, Mr. Annixter the matter of keeping your line fence The sheep were all over the t night, this side the 1 am afraid they have urbed our ballast along there. n't fence along our e farmers have the pre- long tre right of way scriptive right of that, so we have to Jook to you to keep your fence in repair, 1 am sorry, but I shail have to protest—"" Annixter returned to the hammock and stretched himself out in it to his full length, remarking tranquilly: “Go to the devil!” *“It is as much to your lnlel’?![e‘ to ours that the s v of the public—" “You hearé what I said. Go to the devil!™ “That all may show obstinacy, Mr. An- nixter, but—" Suddenly Annixter jumped up again and came to t edge of the porch; his face flamed rlet roots of his stiff yellow He thrust out his jaw ag- clenching his teeth. S vociferated, “I'll tell you what you are. You're a—a—a pip!”’ To his mind it'was the last insult, the outrageous calumny. He had no i his command. w pursued 8. ehrman, bent upon finishing the phrase, t it Gon't show common sense.” T'll mend my fence, and then, again, maybe 1 won't mend my fence!” shouted Annixter. “I know what you mean—that wild engine last night. Well, you've no right to run at that speed in the town limits.” £ “How the town limits? The sheep werb this side the long trestle.” “Well, that's in the town limits of Gua- dalajara.” “Why, Mr. Annixter, the long trestle is & good two miles out of Guadalajara.” Annixter squared himself, leaping to the chance of an argument. “Two miles! It's not a mile and a quar- ter. No, it's not a mile. I'll leave it to M us here.” “Oh, I know nothing about it declared Magnus, refusing to be involved. “Yes, you do. Yes, you do, too. Any fool knows how" far it is from Guadala- Jara to the long trestfe. It's about five- eighths of a mile.” “From the depot of the town,” remarked £. Behrman, placidly, “to the head of the Jong trestle is about two miles.” “That’s a lie, and you know it's a lie!” shouted the other, furious at 8. Behr- man’s calmness, “and I can prove it's a lie. I've walked that distance on the up- per road, and I know just how fast I ;ru_lk, and If I can walk four miles in one our—" Magnus and Harran drove on, leaving Annixter trying to draw 8. Behrman into & wrangle. When at length 8. Behrman as well took himself away, Annixter returned to his hammock, finished the rest of his prunes and read another chapter of “Cop- perfield.” Then he put the book, open, over his face and went to sleep. An_hour later, toward noon, his own terrific snoring ‘woke him up’ suddenly, and he sat up, rubbing his face and blink- ing at the sunlight. There was a bad taste in his mouth from sleeping with it wide open. and going into the dining- room of the house, he mixed himself a drink of whisky and soda and swallowed it in three great gulps. He told himself that he felt not only better but hungry, &nd pressed 4n electric button in the wali ear the sideboard three times to let the tchen—situated in a separate buflding Dear the ranchhouse—know that he was ready for his dinner. As he did so an fdea occurred to him. He wondered if Hilma Tree would bring up his dinner &nd wait on the table while he ate it. In connection with his ranch Annixter ran a dairy farm on a very small scale, making just enough butter and cheese for the consumption of the ranch’s personnel. Did man Tree, his wife and his daughter Hilma looked after the dairy. But there was not always work enough to keep the three of them occupied and Hilma at times made herself useful in other ways. As often as not she lent a hand in the kitchen, and two or three times a week she took her mother's place in looking after Annixter’s house, making the beds, putting his room to rights, bringing his meals up from the kitchen. For the last summer she had been away visiting with relatives in one of the towns on the coast. But the week previous to this she had re- turned, and Annixter had come upon her suddenly one day in the dairy, making cheese, the sleeves of her crisp blue shirt waist Tolled back to her very shoulders. Annixter had carried away with him clear-cut recollection of these smoooth white arms of hers, bare to the ahcn.\lder‘i very round and cool and fresh. He woul not have belleved that a girl so young should have had arms so big and perfect. To his surprise, he found himself think- ing of her after he had gone to bed that night, and in the morning when he woke bhe was bothered to know whether he had dreamed about Hilma's fine white arms over night. Then abruptly he had lost patience with himself for being so occupied with the subject, raging and fu- rious with all the breed of females—a fine way for a man to waste his time. He had bad his experience with the timid littie creature in the glove-cleaning estab- lishment in Sacramento. That was enough. Females! Rot! None of them in his, thank you. He had seen Hilma Tree give him a look in the dairy. Aha, he saw through her! She was trying to get a hold on him, was she? He would show her. Wait till he saw her again. He would send her about her business in a hurry. He resolved upon a terrible de- meaner in the presence of the dairy girl— a great show of indifference, a fierce mas- culine nonchalance, and when, the next morning, she brought him his breakfast he bad been smitten dumb as soon as she entered the room, gluing his eyes upon his plate, his elbows close to his side, awkward, clumsy, overwhelmed with constraint. . ‘While true to his convictions as a wom- an-hater and genuinely despising Hilma both as a girl and as an inferior, the idea of her worried him. Most of all, he was angry with himself because of his inane sheepishness when she was about. He at first had told himself that he was a fool not to be able to ignore her exist- ence as hitherto, and then that he was a greater fool not to take advantage of his position. Certainly he had not the re- motest idea of any affection, but Hilma was a fine Jooking girl. He imagined an affair with her. As he reflected upon the matter now, scowling abstractedly at the button of the electric bell, turning the whole busi- ness over in his mind. he rememberad that to-day was butter-making day and that Mrs. Tice would be occupled in the dairy, That meant that Hilma would take her plac He turned to the mirror of the sideboard, scrutinising his reflec- tion with grim 'disfavor. After a mo- ment, rubbing the roughened surfac: of his chin the wrong way, he muttered to Lis imuge in the glas: ““‘What a mug! Good Lord! What a looking mug!” Then, after a moment's silence, “Wonder if that fool female will be up here to-day?” He crossed over to his bedroom and peeped around the edge of the lowered curtain. ~The window looked out upon the skeletonlike tower of the artesian well and the cookhouse and dairy-house close beside it. As he watched he saw Hilma come out from the cookhouse and hurry across toward the kitchen. Evi- dently she was gojg to see about his dinner. But as she passed by the arte- sian well she met young Delaney, one of Annixter's hands, coming up the trail by the irrigating ditch, leading his horse toward the stables, a great coil of barb- ed wire in his gloved hands and a pair of nippers thrust into his belt. No doubt he had been mending the break in the line of fence by the Lor.i Trestle. An- nixter saw him take off his wide-brim- med hat as he met Hilma, and the twc stood there for some moments talking together. Annixter even heard Hilma laughing very gsy]g at wmemmfi De- laney was saying. She patted his horse's neck affectionately, and Delaney, draw- ing the nippers from his belt, made as if "to pinch her arm with them. She caught at his wrist and pushed him away, laughing again. To Annixter's mind the pair seemed astonishingly in- timate. Brusquely his anger flamed up. AL, that was it, was it? Delaney and Hilma had an understanding between themselves. They carried on their af- falr right out there in the open, under his very eyes. It was absolutely dis- gusting. Had they no sense of decency, those two? Well, this ended it. He would stop that sort of thing short off; none of that on his ranch it he knew it. No, sir. He would pack that girl off vefore he was a day older. He wouldn’t have that kind about the place. Not much! She'd have to get out. He would talk to old man Tree about it this after- noon. Whatever happened, he insisted upon morality. “‘And my dinner!” he suidenly exclaim- ed. “I've got to wait and go hungry— and maybe get sick again—while they carry on their disgusting love-making.” He turned about on the instant, and, striding over to the electric bell, rang it again with all his might. ““When that female gets up here,” he declared, “I'll just find out why I've got to wait like this. I'll take her down to the queen’s ‘taste. I'm lenient enough, Lord knows, but I don't propose to be imposed upon all the time.” few moments later, while Annixter was pretending 1o read the county news- paper by the window in the dining-room, Hilma came in to set the table. At the time Annixter had his feet cocked on the window ledge and was smoking a clfilr, but as soon s she entered the room he— without premeditation—brought his feet down to tbe floor and crushed out the lighted tip of his clgar under the win- dow ledge. Over the top of the paper h‘e glanced at her covertly from time to time. Though Hilma was oniy 19 years old, she was a large girl, with all the devel- opment of a much older woman. There was a certain generous amplitude the full, round curves of her hips and shoulders that suggested the precocious maturity of a healthy, vigorous animal life passed under the hot southern sun of a half- tropical country. She was, one knew at a glance, warm-blooded, full-blooded, with an even, comfortable balance of tempera~ meat. Her neck was thick, and sloped to her shoulders with full, beautiful curves, and under her chin and under her ears the flesh was as white ‘and smooth as floss satin, shading exquisitely to a faint delicate brown on her nape at the roots of her hair. Her throat rounded to meet her chin and cheek, with a soft swell of the skin, tinted pale amber in the shad- ows. but blending by -barely perceptible grada‘ions to the sweet, warm flush of her cheek. I'his color on her temples was just touched with a certain blueness where the flesh was thin over the fine veining underneath, Her eyes were light brown and so wide open that on the slightest provocation the full disk of the puplil was disclosed; the lids—just a frac- tion of a shade darker than the hue of her face—were edged with lashes that were almost black. While these lashes were not long, they were thick and rim- med her with a fine, thin line. Her mouth was rather large, the lips shut tight, and nothing could have been more graceful, more charming than the outline of these full lips of hers, and her round white chin, modulating downward with a’ certain delicious roundness to her neck, her throat and the sweet feminine ampl! tude of her breast. The slightest move- ment of her head and shoulders sent a gentle undulation through all this beauty of soft outlines and smooth surfaces, the delicate amber shadows deepening or fad- ing or losing themselves imperceptibly in the pretty rose-color of her cheeks, or the dark, warm-tinted shadow of her thick brown hair. Her hair seemed almost to have a life of its own, almost Medusa-like, thick, glossy and moist, |ylng in_heavy, sweet smelling masses over her forehead, over her small ears with thelr pink lobes and far down upon her nape. Deep in be- tween the colls and braids it was of a bitumen brownness, but in the sunlight it vibrated with a sheen like tarnished gold. Like most large girls, her movements were not hurried, and this indefinite de- liberateness of gesture, this slow ce, this certain ease of attitude, was a charm that was all her own. But Hilma's greatest charm of all was her simplicity—a simplicity that was not only in the calm regularity of her face, with ite statuesque evenness of contour, its broad surface of cheek and forehead and the masses of her straight smooth bair, but was apparent as well in the long line of her car: , from her foot to her waist and the single deep swell from her waist to her shoulder. unconsciously she dressed in harmony with this note of simplicity, and on this. occasion wore a skirt of plain dark blue calico and a white shirt waist crisp from the laundry. - And yet, for all the dignity of this rig. orous simplicity, there were about Hilm small contradictory suggestions of fem- inine daintiness, charming beyond words. Even Annixer could not help notfcing that her feet were marrow lnj slender, and g Almost- that the little steel buckles of her low shoes were polished t, and that her m:s:r tips and nalls were of a fine rosy i P He found himself wondering how it was that a girl in Hilma's position should be able to keep herself so pretty, so trh:a(i so clean and feminine, but he reflect that her work was chiefly in the dairy, and.even there of the lightest order. She was on the ranch more for the sake of beirg with her parents than from any necessity of employment. Vaguely he seemed to understand that, in that great new land of the West, in the open alr, healthy life of the ranches, where the con- ditions of earning a livelihood were of the easiest, refinement among the younger yomen was easily to be found—not the fefinement of education, nor culture, but the natural, intuitive refinement of the woman, not as yet defiled and crushed ~out by the sordid, strenuous life struggle of overpopulated districts. It was the original, intended and natural delicacy of an elemental existence, close to nature, closi to life, close to the great, kindly earth. 5 As Hilma laid the tablespread her arms opened to thelr widest reach, the white cloth setting a little glisten of reflected light underneath the chin, Annixter stir- red in his lace uneasily. “‘Oh, it's you, is it, Miss Hilma?" he re- marked, for the sake of saying something. “Good morning. How do you do?” “Good’ morning, sir,” she answered, looking up, resting for a moment on her outspread palms. Her voice was low in pitch and of a velvety huskiness, seeming to come more from her chest than from her throat. “Well, I'm some better,” growled An- nixter. ' Then suddenly he demanded, “Where's that dog?” A decrepit Irish setter sometimes made his appearance in and about the ranch- house, sleeping under the’bed and eating when any one about the place thought to give him a plate of bread. Annixter had no particular interest in the dog. For weeks at a time he ignored its existence. It was not his dog. But to-day it seemed as if he could not let the subject rest. For no reason that he could explain even to himself, he recur- red to it continually. He questioned Hil- ma minutely _all about the dog. Who owned him? How old did she think he was? Did she imagine the dog was sick? Where had he got to? Maybe he had crawled off to die somewhere. He recur- red to the subject all through the meal; apparently, he could talk of nothing else, agd as she finally went away after clear- ing off the table he went on to the porch and called after he: “Say, Miss Hilm Yes, sir.” “If that dog turns up again you let me know.” “Very well, sir.” Annixter returned to the dining-room and sat down in the chair,he had just vacated. “To hell with the dog!” he muttered, en- raged, he could not tell why. hen at length he allowed his atten- tion to wander from Hilma Tree, he found that he had been staring fixedly at a thermometer upon the wall opposite, and this made him think that it had long been his intentlon to buy a fine barometer, an instrument that could be accurately de- pended on. But the barometer suggested the present condition of the weather and the likelihood of rain. In such case, much ‘was to be done In the way of getting the seed ready and overhauling his plows and drills. He had not been away from the house in two days. It was time to be up and doing. He determined to put in the afternoon “taking look around,” and have a late supper. He would not g6 to Los Muertos; he would ignore Magnus Derrick’s invitation. Possibly, though, it might be well to run over and see what was up, “If 1 do,” he said to himself, *I'll ride the buckskin.” The buckskin was a half broken bronco that fought like a fiend under the saddle until the quirt and spur brought her to her senses. But Annixter remembered that the Trees' cottage, next the dairy- house, looked out upon the sstables, and perhaps Hilma would see him while he was mounting the horse and be Impressed with his courage. “Huh!” grunted Annixter under his breath, “I should like to see that fool Delaney try to bust that bronch. That's what I'd like to see.” However, as Annixter stepped from the porch of the ranch house he was sur- prised to notice a gray haze over all the sky; the sunlight was gone; there was a sense of coolness in th r; the weather- vane on the barn—a fine golden trotting horse with flamboyant mane and tail— was veering in a southwest wind. Evi- dently the expected rain was close at hand. Annixter crossed over to the stables, reflecting that he could ride the:buck- skin to the Trees’ cottage and tell Hilma that he would not be home to supper. The conference at Los Muertos would be an admirable excuse for this, and upon the spot he resolved to go over to the Derrick ranch house after all. As he passed the Trees' coitage he ob- eerved with satisfaction that Hilma was golng to and fro in the front room. If e busted the buckskin in the yard be- fore the stable she could not help but see. Annixter found the stableman in the back of the barn greasing the axles of the buggy, and ordered himg to put the saddle on the buckskin. “Why, I don't think she’s here, sir,” answered the stableman, glancing into the stalls. *“No, I remember now, De- laney took her out just after dinner. His other horse went lame and he wanted to 80 down by the Long Trestle to mend the fence. He started cut, but had to come back.” ‘Oh, Delaney got her, did he?"” “Yes, sir. He had a circus with her, but he busted her right enough. ‘hen it comes to hor%es Delaney can wipe the eye of any cow-puncher in the county, 1 guess.” ‘He gan, can he?’ observed Annixter. Then, after a silence, “Well, all right, Billy; put my saddle on whatever you've got there. I'm going over to Los Muer- tos_this afternoon.;’ P “Want to look Sut for the rain, Mr. Annixter,” remarked Billy. “Guess we'll have rain before night.” “T'll take a rubber coat,” answered Annixter. “Bring the lorse up to the ranch house when you're ready.” Annixter returned to the house to look for his rubber -coat in deep disgust, not permitting himself to glance toward the dairy-house and the Trees’ cottage. But as he reached the porch he heard the tel- ephone ringing his call. It was Presle; who rang up from Los Muertos. e had heard from Harran that Annixter was, perhaps, coming over that evening. If he came would he mind bringing over his—Presley’s bicycle? He had left it at the gul!n Sabe ranch the day before, and had forgotten tc come back that way for it. “Well,” objected Annixter, a surly nate in his voice, “I was going to ride over.” ‘‘Oh, never mind, then,” returned Pres- ley, e“"fi ‘I was to blame for forget- ting it. on’'t bother about it. I'll come ome of these days and get it my- Annixter hung ug the transmitter with & vehement wrench and stamped out of the room, banging the door. He found his rubber coat hanging in the hallway, and swung into it with a fierce move- ment of the shoulders that all but starf- ed the seams. Everything seemed to conspire to thwart him. It was just like that absent-minded, crazy poet, Presiey, to forget his wheel. Well, he could come after it himself. He (Annixter) would ride some horse, anyhow. When he came out upon the porch he saw the wheel leaning against the fence, where Presley had left it. If it stayed there much longer the rain would catch it. Annixter ripped out an oath. At every moment his f{ll-humor was Yet, for all that, he lncreaalnE. went back to the stable, pushing the bicy- cle before him, and countermanded his order, directing the stableman to get the buggy ready. He himself carefully stowed Presley’s bicycle under the seat, covering it with a couple of empty sacks and a tarpaulin carriage cover. ‘While he was doing this, the stableman uttered an exclamation and paused in the act of backing the horse into the shafts, holding up a hand, listening. From the holiow roof of the barn and from the thick velvet-like padding of dust over the ground outside, and from amon the leaves of the few nearby trees an plants there came a vast, mondtonous murmur that seemed to issue from all quarters of the horizon at once, a pro- longed and subdued rustling sound, steady, even, persistent. ““There’s your rain.” announced the sta- “the first of the season.” 've got to be out in it,” fumed Annixter, “and I !“fpwe those swine will Quit work on the big barn now. ‘When the bu; was finally ready, he put on his rubber coat, climl 4in, and without waiting for the stableman to raise the top, drove out into tHe rain, a ne liv cigar in his teeth. As he passed the dairy-house he saw Hilma standing in the doorway, holding out her hand to the rain, her e turned upward toward th gray sky, amused and interested this first shower 2( the wet season. She was bsorbed that she did not see Annix- his clumsy nod In her direction unnoticed. “‘She did it on purpose, Annixter told himself, chewing fiercely on his cigar. +Cuts me now, hey? Well, this does set- sle ILMShe leaves this ranch before I'm & ay older.” He decided that he would put off his tour O{n ins; Sction €l the next day., i eling the bu; as he " ”, keep to the road which lea to' Derrick s in very ro@ndabout fashion, by way o Guadalajara. This raim"would reduce the thick dust ot the road to two feet of viscid mud, It would take him quite three hours to reach the ranch house on Los Muertos He thought of Delaney and the buckskin and ground his teeth. And all this trou- ble S Ypu please, because of a fool fe- male girl. fine way for him to waste his time. Well, now he was done with it. mskdeclslon was taken now., She should pack. Steadily the rain increased. There was no wind. The thick vell of wet descended straight from sky to earth, blurring dis- tant outlines, spreading a vast sheen of gray over all the landscape. Its volume became greater, the prolonged murmur- ing note took on a deeper tone. At the gate to the road which ?ed across Dyke’s hop fields toward Guadalajara Annixter was obliged to descend and raise the top of the buggy. In doing so he caught the flesh of his hand in the joint of the iron elbow that supported the top and pinched it cruelly. It was the last misery, the culmination of a long train of wretched- ness. On the instant he hated Hilma Tree so fiercely that his sharply set teeth all but bit his cigar in two. While he was grabbing and wrenching at the buggy top, the water from his hat brim ‘dripping down upon his nose, the horse, restive under the drench of the rain, moved uneasily. ‘‘Yah-h-h you!” he shouted, inarticulate with exasperation, “You—you—Gor-r-r, wait till I get hold of you. Whoa, you!” But there was an interruption. Delaney, riding the buckskin, came around a bend in the road at a slow trot, and Annixter, getting into the buggy again, found him- self face to face with him. “Why, hello. Mr. Annixter,” said he, 5‘;{!‘"8 up. “Kind of sort of wet, isn't Annixter, his face suddenly scarlet, sat back in his filnce, abruptly exclaiming: ©:Ob—oh, there you are, are you?’ “I've been down there,” explained De. laney, with a motion of his head toward the rallroad, “to mend that break in the -fence by the Long Trestle, and I thought while I was about it I'd_follow down along the fence toward Guadalajara_to see if there were any more breaks. But I guess it's all right.” - ““Oh, you guess it's all right, do you? observed Annixter through his_teeth. “Wihy—why—yes,” returned the other, bewildered at the truculent ring in An- nixter's_voice, “I mended that break by, the Long Trestle just now and “Well, why didn’t you mend it a cek ago?" shouted Annixter wrathfully, “I've been looking for you all the morning, I have; and who told you you could take that buckskin? And the sheep were all over the right of way last night because of that break; and here that filthy pip, S. Behrman, comes down here this morn. ing and wants to make trouble for me.” Suddenly he cried out: “What do I feed you for? What do I keep you around here for? Think. it's just to fatten up your carcass, hey" by, Mr.Annixter— began Delaney. “And ‘don’t talk to me,” vociferated the other, exciting himself with his own noise. ““Don’t you say a word to me, even to apologize. If I've spoken to you once about that break I've spoken fifty times."” “Why, sir,” declared Delaney, begin- ning to get indignant, “the sheep did it themselyes last night.” ; “I told you not to talk to me!" clam- ored Annixter. :‘But, say, look here—"" “Get off the ranch. You get off the ranch. And taking that buckskin against my express orders. I won't have your kind about the place. Not much. I'm easy-going enough, Lord knows, but I don’t propose to be impcsed on all the time. Pack off, you understand, and do it lively. Go to the foreman and tell him I told him to pay you off, and then clear out! And, you hear me,” he con- cluded with a menacing outthrust of his lower jaw, “you hear me, if 1 catch you hanging around the ranch house after this, or if 1 do as much as see you on Quien Sabe I'll show you the way off of it, my friend, at the toe of my boot. Now, then, get out of the way and let me pass.’” Angry beyond the power of retort, De- laney drove the spurs into the buckskin and passed the buggy in a single bound. Annixter gathered up th> reins and drove om, muttering to himself and occasional- ly looking back to observe the buckskin fiy:ng toward the ranch house in a spat- tering shower of mud, Delancy urging her f"' hlli head-bent down against the fall- rain. “Huh!” grunted Annixter with grim satisfaction, a certain sense of good hu- mor at length returning. to him, ‘“‘that Jjust about takes the saleratus out of \your dough, my friend.” A iittle farther on Annixter got out of the buggy a second time to open an- other gate that let him out upen the upper road, not far distant from Guada- lajara. It was the road that connected that town with Bonneviile and that ran parallel with the railroad tracks. On the other side of the track he could see the infinite extension of the brown, bare land of Los Muertos, turning now to a soft, moist welter of fertility under the insistent caressing of the rain. The hard, sun-baked clods were decomposing the crevices between drinking the wet with an eager, sucking noise. But the pro: pect was dreary; the distant zons were blotted with driftin; mists of rain; the eternal monotony of the earth lay open to the somber low sky without a single adornment, without a single va- riation from its meiancholy flatness. Near at hand the wires between -the telegraph poleés vibrated with a faint humming un- der” the multitudinous fingering of the myriad of falling drops, 5tr1kinf among them and dripping off steadily from one to another. The poles themselves were dark and swollen and glistening with wet, while the little cones of glass on the transverse bars reflected the dull gray light of the end of the afternoon. As Annixter was about to drive on, a freight train passed, coming from Guada- lajara. going northward toward Bonne- ville, Fresno and San Francisco. It was a long train, moving slowly, methodically, with a measured coughing of its locomo- tive and a rhythmic cadence of its trucks over the interstices of the rails. On two or three of the flatcars near its end An- nixter plainly saw Magnus Derrick’s plows, their bright coating of red and green paint setting a single brilliant note in all this array of grey and brown. Annixter halted, watching the train file ast, carrying Derrick's plows away from is ranch, at this very time of the first ,fain, when they would be most needed. He watched it, silent, thoughful and with- out articulate comment. Even after it passed he sat in his place a long time, wntchin{ tance, its prolonged rumble diminishing to a faint murmur. Soon he heard the engine sounding its’ whistle for the Long Trestle. % But the moving train no longer carried Wwith it that impression of terror and de- struction that had so thrilled Presley’s imagination the night before. It passed slowly on its way with a mournful roll of Wwheels, like the passing of a cortege, like a file of artillery caissons charioting dead bodies; the engine’s smoke enveloping it In a mournful veil, leaving a sense of melancholy in its wake, moving Fast there, . lugubrious, lamentable, infinitely sad, under the gray sky and under the gray mist of rain which continued to fall with a subdued, rustling sound, steady, persistent, a vast monotonous murmur that seemed to come from all quarters of the horizon at once. IIL When Annixter arrived at the Los Muertos ranch house that same evening he found a little oup “already assem- bled in the dinlngro(?m< Magnus Der- rick, ‘wearing the frock coat of broad- cloth that he had put on for the occa- sion, stood with his back to the fire- place. Harran sat close at hand, one ieg thrown over the arm of his chair. Presley lounged on the sofa, in corduroys and high-laced boots and smoking cigar- ettes. Broderson leaned on his folded e “The Octopus,” by the late i Frank Norris, has justly been considered the nearest ap- proach to the “great American novel” ever written. < As a novel dealing with California life and scenes it is undoubtedly the best in print. This splendid story is now it lose itself slowly in the dis-- arms at one corner of the dining tabl and Genslinger, editor and proprietor of the grlnclpl newspaper of the county, the Bonneville Mercury, stood with his hat and driving gloves under his arm, ofposltc Derrick, a half-emptied glass of whisky and water in his hand. As Annixter entercd he heard Gen- slinger observe: “I'll have a leader in the Mercury to-morrow that will" in- terest you people. There's some talk of your ranch l’nd: being graded in valp_.; this winter. [ suppose you will all buy? In an lnuun} the eu.tor's words had riveted on him the attention of every man in the room. Annixter broke the moment’s silence that followed with the remark: “Well, it's about time they graded these lands of theirs.” : The question in issue in Genslinger's remark was of the most vital interest to the ranchers’ around Bonneville and Guadalajara. Nelther Magnus Derrick, Broderson, Annixter nor Osterman act- ually cwned all the rancues which they worked. As vet the vast majority of these wheat lands were the property of the P. and 8. W. The explanation of this condition of affairs went back the early history of the Pacific and Southwesiern, when, as a benus for the construction of the road, the National Government had granted to the com; the odd-numbered sections of land on either side of the proposed line of route for-a distance of !wemly miles. Indis- putably these sectons belonged to the P. and 8. W. The even-numbered sections, being Government property, could be and had been taken up by the ranchers, but the railroad sections, cr, as they were called, the ‘“alternate sections,” = would have to be purchased direct from the rail- road itself, But this had not prevented the farm- ers from *‘coming in" upon that pa:t of the San Joaquin. Long before this the railroad had thrown open these lands, and, by means of circulars distributed broadcast throughout the State, had ex- pressly invited settlement thereon. At that time patents had not been issucd to the railroad for their odd-numbered sec- tions, but as soon as the Jand was patent-+ ed the railroad would grade it in value and offer it- for sale, the first occupants having the first chance of purchase. The price of these lands was to be fixed by the price the Government put upon its own adjoining lands—about 3250 per acre. With cuitivation and improvement the ranches must inevitably appreciate in value. There was every chance to make fortunes. When the railroad lands about Bonneville had been thrown open there had been almost a rush in the matter of settlement, and Broderson, Annixter, Derrick and ’ Osterman, being foremost wita their clalms, had secured the pick of the country. But the land once settled upon, the P. and S. W. seem- ed to be in no hurry as to fixing exactly the value of its sections included in the various ranches and offer- ing them for sale. The matter dragged along from year to year, was forgotten for months together, being only brought to mind on such occasions as this, when the rumor spread that the general office w;tasI about to take definite action in the affair, “As soon as the railroad wants to talk business with me,” observed Annixter, “about selling me their interest in Quien Sabe, I'm ready. The land has more than quadrupled in value. T'll bet I could sell it to-morrow for fifteen dollars an acre, and if I buy of the railroad for two and a half an acre, there's boodle in the game. “For two and a half!” exclaimed Gens- linger. “You don’t suppose the railroad will let their land go for any such figure as that, do you? Wherever did you get that idea?” “From_the circulars and pamphiet: answered Harran, “that the rallroad is- sued to us when they opened these lands. They are pledged to that. Even the P and 8. W, couldn’t break such a pledge as that. You are new in the country, Mr. Genslinger. You don’t remember the con- ditions upon which we took up this land.” “And our improvements,” exclaimed An- nixter. *‘Why, Magnus and I have put about five thousand dollars between us into that frrigating ditch already. I guess we are not improving the land just to make it valuable for the railroad people. No matter how much we improve the land, or how much it increases in value, they have lgot to stick by thelr agreement on the basis of two-fifty per acre. Here's one case where the P. and S. W. don’t get everything in sight.” 4 Genslinger frowned, perplexed. “I am new in the country, as Harran says,” he answered. “but it seems to me that there's no fairness In that proposi- tion. The presence of the rallroad has helped increase the value of your ranches guite as much as your improvements. Why should you get all the benefits of the rise in value and the railroad noth- ing? The fair way would be to share it between you.” “I don't care anything about that,” de- clared Annixter. “They agreed to charge butl two-fifty, and they've got to stick o it5 “Well,”” murmured Genslinger, *from what 1 know of the affair, I don’t be- lieve the P. and S. W. intend to sell for two-fifty an acre at all. ~The managers of the road want the best price they can get for everything in these hard times.” “Times aren’t ever very hard for the railroad,” hazards old Broderson. Broderson was the oldest man in the room. He was about 65 years of age, ven- erable, with a white beard, his figure bent earthward with hard work. He was a narrow-minded man, painfully conscientious in his statements lest he should be unjust to somebody; a slow thinker, unable to let a subject drop when once he had started upon it. He had no sooner uttered his remark about hard times than he was moved to qualify it. ‘‘Hard times,” he repeated, a troubled, perplexed note in his voice; “well, yes— yes. 1 suppose the road does have hard times, maybe. Everybody does—of course. I didn’t mean that exactly. I believe in being just and fair to everybody. I mean that we've got to use their lines and pay their charges good years and bad years, the P. and S. W. béing the only road in the State. That {s—well, when-I say the only road—no, I won’t say the only road. Of course, there are other roads. X the D. P. and M. and the San Francisco and North Pacific, that runs up to Ukiah. I got a brother-in-law in Ukiah. That's not much of a wheat country around Ukiah, though they do grow scme Wwheat there, come to think. But I guess it's too far north. Well, of course, there isn’t much. Perhaps sixty thousand acres in the whole county—if you include bar- ley and oats. I don't know; maybe it's nearer forty thousand. I don’t remember very well. That's a good many years -%). I ut Annixter, at the end of all turned to Genslinger, cutting short the old man. “‘Oh, yot! Of course the railroad will wo fifty!"” he cried. “We've gol the comtracts.” “Look to them, then, Mr. Annixter, retorted Genslinger, significantly, ‘look to them. Be sure that you are pro- tected.” T took him- K‘Nencfi. Soon after ‘this Genslin; self away, and Derrick’s Chinaman came in to set the table. {‘What do you suppose he meant?” ask- ed Broderson, when Gensllngcr ‘was gone. “‘About this land business?’ sald An- nixter. ‘““Oh, I don’t know. Some tom fool idea. Haven't we gof their terms printed in black and white in their cir- culars? There's their pledge.’ “‘Oh, as to pledges,” murmured Brod- erson, “the railroad is not always too much hindered by those.” ‘‘Where's Osterman?’ demanded An- nixter, abruptly changing the subject as if it were not worth discussion. “lsn’t that koat, Osterman, coming down here o night 27 ‘“You telephoned him, didn’t you, Pres- ley?”" inquired Magnus. resley had taken Princess Nathalie upon . his knee, stroking her long,*sleek hair, and the cat, stupefied with beati- tude, had closed her cyes to two fine" lines, clawing softly at the corduroy of Presley’s trousers with alternate paws. “Yes, sir,” returned Presley, “he said ke wou!ld he here.” And as he spoke young Osterman ar- rived. He was a young fellow. inclind to baldness. His ears, very red and large, stuck out at right angles from either side of his head, and his mouth, too, was large—a great horizontal slit beneath his nose. is. cheeks were of a brownish_red, the cheek bones a little salient. His face was that of a comic actor, a singer of songs, 2 man never at a loss for an answer, continually striv- ing to make a laugh. But he took no great interest in ranching,.and left the management of his land to his superin- tendents and foremen, he. himself, liv- ing in Bonneville, He was a pos a ‘wearer of clothes, forever acting a part, striving to create an impression, to attention to himsclf. He was not wit it energy, but he devoted it to perfecting himself in shments, continually run- thing. incapable of but singularly running in The Sunday Call— "fl'lllln.; n‘l in :’n.y 'ran mc:'urtu. At FREE! NO EXTRA EX- ‘z’r‘.‘:h:‘&:'" i ht-:‘f‘;h:’ng' tricks: m‘:":un'““- archery. u) one mont | FENSE! find. davoted himself to leara (] Tay ‘two banjos simultaneously: A R A R N R0 i, T T T how to then, a su est Punch and Judy show leather work, *nade & “nsanfi ity of purses, ten- ands, vhl}cl:h h:d “g;:- f his a - Lpvy onev:r to make den and had made a nis belts angd hat sented tl% oung‘ oSt . was his i oriemy. "He was liked far better than he was respected. People spoke of BIR as “that goat Osterman,” or “that £oo7 Osterman kid,” and invited bim to din- ner. He was of the sort who some - cannot be ignored. If only N““’r‘um his clamor he made himself impo ey If he had one abiding trait it wag his desire of astonishing people; Fo e in some way, best known to - self he managed to cause lhamc culation of the most extraor ;‘r’t stories wherein he himself was the chie! actor. He was glib, voluble, dexterous., ubiquitous, a teller of funny stories, cracker of jokes. p Natuyrally enough, he was he:vflv‘mg debt, but carried the burden of it B perfect nonchalance. The year before S. Behrman had held mortgages for fully a third o?nhl.l crop and had squeezed vicjously for Interest. But for all that Osterman and . Behrman were contin- ually seen arm-in-arm on the main street of Bonneville. Osterman was accustomed to slap S. Behrman on his fat back, de- claring: “Youre a good fellow, old Jelly-belly, after all, hey ?" As Osterman entered from the por«:l:i after hanging his cavalry poncho an dripping hat on the rack outside, Mrs. Derrick appeared in the door that opened from the dining-room into the glass-roof- ed hallway just beyond. Osterman sa- luted her with effusive cordiality and with ingratiating blandness. “I am not going to stav,” she exclaimed, smiling pleasantly-at the group of men, her pretty, wide-open brown eyes, with thelr look of inquiry and innocence, glanc- ing from face to face; “I only came to see if you wanted anything and to say how do you do.” She began talking to old = Broderson, making inquiries as to his wife, who had been sick the last week, and 'Osterman turned to the company, shaking hands ali around, keeping up an incessant stream of conversation. “Hello, boys and girls. Hello, governor. Sort of a gathering of the clans to-night. Well, if here isn’t that man Annixter. Hello, Buck. What do you know? Kind of dusty out to-night.” At once Annixter began to get red In the face, retiring toward a corner of the room, standing in an awkward position by the case of stuffed birds, shambling and confused, while Mrs. Derrick was present, standing rigidly on both feet, his elbows close to his sides. But he was angry with Osterman, muttering impre- cations to himself, horribly vexed that the young fellow should call him “Buck’ before Magnus' wife. This gbat Oster- man! Hadn't he any sense, that fool? Couldn’t he ever learn how to behave be- fore a female? Calling him “‘Buck’ like that while Mrs. Derrick was there. Why, a stable-boy would know better; a hired man would have better manners. All through the dinner that followed Annixter was out of sorts, sulking in his place, refusing to eat by way of vindi- cating his self-respect, resolving to bring Osterman up with a sharp turn if he called him “Buck” again. The Chinaman had made a certain kind of plum pudding for dessert, and Annix- ter, who remembered other dinners at the Derricks., had been saving himself for this, and had meditated upon it all through the meal. No doubt it would re- store all his good humor, and he believed his stomach was so far recovered as to be able to stand it. But, unfortunately, the pudding was served with a sauce that he abhorred—a thick, gruel-like, colorless mixture, made from plain water and sugar. Before he could interfere, the Chinaman had poured a quantity of it upon his plate. “Faugh!” exclaimed Annixter. “Tk makes me sick. 8uch—snch slop. Take it away. T'll have mine straight, if you don’t mind.” “That’s good for your stomach, Buck,” observed young Osterman; ‘“‘makes it go down sort of slick, don’t you see? Slop, hey? That's a good name.” “Look here, don’t you call me Buck. You don’t seem to have any sense and, besides, it isn't good for my stomach. I know bet- ter. What do you know about my stomach, anyhow? Just looking at a sloop like that makes me sick.” A little while after this the Chinaman cleared away the dessert and brought in coffee and cigars. The whisky bottle and the siphon of soda-water appeared. The men eased themselves in _their places, pushing back from the table, lighting their cigars, talking of the beginning of the rains and the prospect of a rise in wheat. Broderson ' began an elaborate mental calculation, trying to settle in his mind. the exact date of his visit to Ukiah, and Osterman did sleight-of-hand tricks with bread pills. But Princess Nathalie, the cat, was uneasy. Annix- ter ~was occupying her own particular chair, in_which she slept every night. She could not go to sleep, but spled upon him continually, watching his every movement with her lambent, yellow eyes, clear as amber. Then, at length, Magnus, who was at the fiead of the table, moved in his place, assuming a certain magisterial attitude. “Well, gentlemen,” ‘he observed, “I have lost my case against the railroad—the grain-rate case. Ulsteen decided against me, and now I hear rumors to the effect that rates for the hauling of grain are to_be advanced.” ‘When Magnus ha.#finished there was a moment’s silence, each member of the group maintaining his attitude of atten- tion and interest. It was Harran who first spoke. “‘S. Behrman manipulated the whole affalr. There's a big deal of some kind in the air, and if there is we all know who is back of it; S. Behrman, of course, but who's back of him?. It's Shelgrim.” Shelgrim! The name fell squarely in the midst of the conversation, abrupt, grave, somber, big with suggestion, preg- nant with huge assoclations. No one in the group who was not familiar with it; no one, for that matter, in the county, the State, the whole reach of the West, the entire Union, that did not entertain convictions as to the man who carried it; a giant figure in the engd-of-the-cen- tury finance, a product of circumstance, an {nevitable result of conditicns, charac- teristic, tvpical, symbolic of ungovern- able forces. In the new movement, the new finance, the reorgarization of cap- ital, the amalgamation of powers, the consolidation of enormous enterprises— no - one individual was more constantly in the eye of the world; nc one was more hated, more dreaded, ro one more com- PGHI'IF of unwilling tribute to his com- manding genius, to the colossal intellect operating the width o7 an entire conti- nent than the president and oWTr of the Pacific and Southwestern. “I don’t think, however, he has moved vet.”” sald Magnus. # . "*e thing for us, then,” exclaimed Ost®man, “is to stand from under before he does.” ‘“Moved yet!” snorted Annixter, ‘“h probably moved so long ago that we've never noticed it.”" “In any case,” hazarded Magnus, “it is scarcely probable that the deal—what- ever it is to has been consummated. If we act quickly there may be a chance.” s “Act quickly! How?”’ demanded An- nixter. “Good Lord! what can you do? We're cinched already. It all amounts to just this: You can’t buck against the raliroad. We've tried it and tried it, and we are stuck every time. You, yourself, Derrick, have just lost your grain-rate case. 8. Behrman did you up. Shelgrim owns the courts. He's got men like Ul- steen in his pocket. He’uo&o! the Rail- road Commission in hi; et. He's got the Governor of the State in his Ket, He keevs a million dollar lobby Sae- ramento every minute of the sessfon; he's got his own men on the floor of the United States Senate. He has the whole thing organized Vke an army corps. What are you going to do? He sits in his office in San Francisco and pulls the strings and we've got to dance “But—well—but,” _hazarded Broderson, “but there's the Interstate Commerce tc}?mm ssion. At least on long-haul rates o “Hoh, ‘ves, the Interstate Commerce Commission,” shouted Annlxtur.mlcurn- fully, “that’s great. isn't it? The great- on earth. It almost as good as the R.nllro-f! Comn{}.: sion. nd sion noj in the pay of the P. and i “It is to the Raliroad Commlmm?'. :Zv- erthelesa.” remarked Magnus, “that the ple of the State must look R'ehon is our only hope. ?nce m't = missioners who would be Deo- ple, . and the 'holay-g:?‘n"l’:l‘%’:?efin and rl'..%; I'l.“‘ P:o th: Rail *“Well, why nof ve a road Com- mission of our own, then?” clared young Onarmlgl.nf . *‘Becat it can't be done,” retorted luse Annixter. “You can't buck against railroad, and if you could you can't :.r? nize the f: f e S T e i o 'n‘;*:;‘., 0 n‘ road quietl: “Well, that's the game to play,” said Ostermin. dectsively, Moy dorspates s g the ‘only game that - seeme to s win," admitted He 1 o “Or ‘ever will win Sxeieimed Oster g man, a sudden excitement seeming to take ssession of him. His face—the face of a comic actor, With its great glit of nlxout‘h knxu‘l stiff, red ears—went ap- t] nk. l.“‘l':Loyokp here,” he cried, “this thing s getting desperate. We've fought and fought In the courts and out, and we've tried agitation and—and all the rest of it, and S. Behrman sacks us every time. Now comes the time when there's the prospect of a big crop; we've had no rain for two years, ahd the land has had a long rest. If there is any rain at all this winter we'll have a bonanza year, and just at this very moment when we've got our chance—a chance to pay off our mortgages and get clear of debt and make a strike—here is Shelgrim making a deal to cinch us and put up rates. And now here's thefr!marles coming off and a new Railroad Commission going in. That's why Shelgrim chose this time to make his deal. If we wait till Shelgrim pulls it oft we're done for, that's dat. I tell_you we're in a fix if we don’t keep an eye open. Things are getting des- rate. agnus has just said that the E:y to the whole thing fs the Railroad Commissfon. Well, why not have a commission of our own? Never mind how we get it—let's get it. If it's got to be bought, let us buy it and put our onw men on it and dictate what the rates will be. Suppase it costs a hundred thou- sand dollars. Well, we'll get back more than that in cheap rates. “Mr. Osterman,” sald Magnus, fixing the young man with a swift glance, “Mr. Osterman, you are proposing a scheme of sir.” b'fl}”fiym proposing.” repeated Osterman, scheme of bribery. Exactly so. “And a crazy, wild-eyed scheme at that,” said Annixter, gruffly. “Even sup- posing you bought a Rallroad Commis- sion and got your scheduie of low rates, what happens? The P. and S. W. crowd gets out an injunction and ties you up. “They would tie themseives up, too. Hauling at low rates is better than no hauling at all. The wheat has got to be moved.” i p “Oh, rot!” crled Annixter. “Aren’tyou ever going to learn any sense? Don't you know that cheap transportation would benefit the Liverpcol buyers and not us? Can’t it be fed into you lhaL. you can’t buck against the railroad? When you try to buy a board of commis- sioners don’t you see that you'll have to bid against the railroad—bid against corporjtion that can chuck out millions to cur thousands? Do you think you can bid against the P. and 8. W.” ‘“The raflroad don’t nced to know we are in the game against them till we've 8ot our men seated.” “And when you've got them seated. what's to prevent the corporation buy- ing them right over your head?” “If we've got the right kind of men in they could not be bought that way,” in- terposed Harran. “I don’'t know but what there’s something -in what Oster- man says. We’'d have the naming of the commission, and we’d name honest men. * Annixter struck the table with his fist in_exasperation. “Honest men!"” he shouted. “The kind of men you could get to go into such a scheme would have to be dishonest to be- gin with.” Broderson, shifting uneasily in his place, fingering his beard with a vague, uncertain gesture, spoke again: “It would be the chance of them—our Commissioners—selling out against _the certainty of Shelgrim doing us up. 'That is,” he hastened to add, “almost a cer- tainty—pretty near a certainty.” “‘Of course, it would be a chance,” ex- claimed Osterman, “but it's come to a point where we've got to take chances— risk a big stake to make a big strike, and risk is better than sure failure.” “I can be no party to a scheme of avowed bribery and corruption, Mr. Os- terman,” declared Magnus, a ring of se- verity in his voice. “I am surprised, sir, that you should even broach the subject in my hearing.” _“And,” cried Annixter, “it be done. “L dom’t know, muttered Harran, “maybe it just wants a little spark like this to fire the whole ‘rain.” Magnus glanced at his son in congider- able surprise. He had not expected this of Harran. But so great was his affec- tion for his son, so accustomed had he beccme to listening to his advice, to re- specting his opinions, that, for the mo- ment, after the first shock of surprise and disappointment, he was Influence.l to give a certain degree of attention to this new proposition. He in no way coun- tenanced jt. At any moment he was prepared to rise in his place and de- nounce it and Ostermar both. It was trickery of the most contemptible order, a thing he believed to be unknown to the old school of politics and statesman- ship to which he was proud to belong; but since Harran, ever for one moment, considered it, he (Magnus), who trusted Harran implicitly, would do likewise—if it was only to oppose and defeat it in its very beginning. And abruptly the discussion began. Gradually Osterman, by dint of his clam~ or, his strident reiteration, the plausibil- ity of his giib, ready assertions, the ease with which he extricated himself when apparently driven ¢» a corner, com- \pletely won over old Broderson to his way of thinking. Osterman bewildered him with his volubility, the lightning ra- pidity with which he leaped from one subject to another, garrulous, witty, flamboyant, terrifying the old man with pictures of the swift approach of ruin, the imminence of danger. Annixter, who led the argument against him—ioving argument thcugh he did—ap- peared to poor advantage, unable to pre- sent his side effectively. can’t He called Os- terman a fool, a geat, a crazy- headed jackass, but as__unable to refute his assertions |, His_ debate was the clumsy heaving of brick- bats, brutal and direct. He con- tradicted cverrthing Osierman said as a matter of principle, made conflicting as- sertions, declarations tbat were abso- lutely inconsistent, and when Osterman or Harran used these against him, could only exclaim: “Well, in a way it's so, and then in a way it isn't.” But suddenly Osterman discovered “If we swing this deal,” Behr- new argument. he cried, “we've got old jelly man right where we want him.” “He's the mam that does us every time,” cried Harran. “If there is dirty work to be done in which the rallroad doesn’t wish to appear, it is S. Behrman Who does it. If the freight rates are to be ‘adjusted’ to squeeze us a little hard- er, it is 8. Behrman who regulates what we can stand. If there’s a judge to be bought, it is 8. Behrman who ?fl.l the bargaining. If there is a jury to be bribed, it is S. Behrman who handles the money. If there is an election to be Jjobbed, it is S. Behrman who manipulates it. It's Behrman here and Behrman there. It is Behrfnan we move every time we make a move. man who has the grip of us and will never let go till he has squeezed us bone dry. Why, when I think of it all sometimes I wonder I keep my hands off the man. ead and red ears, was inflamed with excitement. He took the floor, creating an impression, tracting all attention to himself, play- ing to_the lery, gesticulating, 3&-\- orous, full of nois ““Well, now is your chance to he vociferated. Buck, I krnow you. know you're not afraid of anything that wears skin. I know you've ot sand ail through you, and I ‘know if I showed you how we could put our deal through and seat a commission of our own, you wouldn't hang back. Governor, youre a brave man. You know the advantage of prompt and fearless action. You are not the sort to shrink from taking chances. To play for big stakes is just your game— to stake a fortune on the turn of a card. You didn’t get the reputation of being the strongest poker player in El Dorado County for nothing. Now, here's the big- it gamble that ever came your way. f we stand up to it like men with guts in us, we'll win out. If we hesitate, you can help ying oat, terman,” remar An- ‘‘but what’s your idea? What do z:u think we can do? I'm not hastened to interpose, “that anyways convinced me by 1ing. you've all this cack-