The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 30, 1902, Page 12

12 ' THE SUNDAY CALL. . R e S portant plece of news that mo; was the report of the action of the raflroad upon hearing of the battle. nstantly Bonneville had been isolated. Not & single local train was running, not one of the through trains made any hailt &t the station. e mails were not moved. Further than this, by some arrangement difficuit to understand, the telegraph op- erators at Bonneville and Guadalajara, scting under orders, refused to receive any uqurlml except those emanating from :;;J way officlals. mm at:;ylot the fight, the story crea e mpres- sion, was to be told to Francisco and the outside world by S. Behrman, Rug- gles, end the jocal P. and §. W. agents. An hour before breakfast, the under- takers arrived and took charge of the bodies of Harran and Annixter. Presley saw neither Hilma, Magnus, nor Mrs. Derrick. _The doctor came to look after Hilms. He breakfasted with Mrs. Dyke and Presley, and from him Presley learn- ed that Hilms would recover both from the shock of her husband's death and from her miscarriage of the previous night. “She her,” said the physician. ing but call for her or to be allowed to go to her. I have tried to get & wire through to Mrs. Tree, but the company will not take it, and even if I could get word to her, how could she get down bere? There are no trains But Presley found that it was impos- sible for him to stay &t Los Muertos day. Gloom and the shadow of tragedy brooded heavy over the place. A great silence perveded everything, s silence broken only by the subdued coming and going of the undertaker and his assist- ents. When Presley, having resolved to into Bonneville, came out through the oorwey of the house, he found the un- dertaker tyml[ e long strip of crape to the bell-handle. Presley saddied his pony and rode into town, By this time, after long hours of continued reflection upon one subject, a somber brooding malevolence, a deep- seated desire of revenge, had grown bi within his mind. The first numbness ha passed off; familiarity with what had been Gone had blunted the edge of horror, and now the impulse of retaliation prevailed. At first, the sullen anger of defeat, the sense of outrage, had only smoldered, but the more he brooded, the flercer flamed rage. Sudden paroxysms of wrath grip- ped him by the throat; abrupt outbursts of tury injected his eyes with blood. He ground his teeth, his mouth filled with curses, his hands clenched tiil they grew white and bloodless. Was the railroad to triumph then in the end? After all those months of preparation, after all those grandiloquent resolutions, after all the ar- ought to have her mother with “‘She does noth- rogant presumption of tl league! o Jeague! what a farce; what had it amounted to when the crisis came? Was the trust to crush them all so easily? Was £. Behrman to swallow Los Muertos? S. Behrman! Presley saw him plainly, huge, rotund, white; saw his jowl tremulous and obese, the roll of fat over his collar skrinkled with sparse hairs, the great stomach with its brown linen vest and heavy watch chain of hollow links, clink- ing against the buttons of imitation pearl. And this man was to crush Mag- nus Derrick—had already stamped the life from such men as Har- ran and Annixter. This man, in the name of the trust, ‘was to grab Los Muertos as he had grabbed Quien Sabe, and after Los Muertos, Broderson’s ranch, then Oster- man's, then others, and still others, the whole valley, the whole State. Presley beat his forehead with his clenched fist as he rode on. “No,” he cried, “no. kill him, kill him, kil him with my hands.” The idea of it put him beside himself. Oh, to sink his fingers deep into the white, fat throat of the man, to clutch like iron into the great puffed jowl of him, to wrench out the life, to batter it out, strangle it out, to pay him back for the long years of extortion and oppression, to square accounts for bribed jurors, bought Judges, corrupted I atures, to have Justice for the trick of Ranchers’ Rall- road Commission, the charlatanism of the “10 per cent. cut,” the ruin of Dyke, the seizure of Quien Sabe, the murder of Har- ran, the assassination of Annixter! It was in such mood that he reached Caraher's. The saloon-keeper had just opened his place and was standing in hi doorway, smoking his pipe. Presley dis- mounted and went in and the two had a long talk, When, three hours later, Presley came out of the saloon and rode on toward Bonneville, his face was very pale, his lips shut tight, resolute, determjned. His manner was that of a man whose mind is_made up. The hour for the mass meeting st the opera-house had been set for 1 o'clock, but long before noon the street in front of the bullding and, in fact, all the streets in its vicinity, were packed from side Lo side with a shifting, struggling, surging, and excited muititude. There were few women in the throng, but hardly a single male inhabitant of either Bonneville or Guadalajara was absent. Men had even come from Visalia and Pixley. It was no longer the crowd of curiosity seekers that had thronged around Hooven's place by the irrigating ditch; the people were no longer confused, bewildered. A full reali- zation of just what hed been done the day before was clear now in the minds of all. Business was suspegded; nearly all the stores were closed. ®Since early morning the members of the league had put in an eppearance and rode from point to point, their rifies across their saddle pommels. Then, by 10 o'clock, the streets had begun to fill up, the groups on the corners grew and merged into one another; pedestrians, unable to find room on the sidewalks, took to the streets. Hourly the crowd in- creased till shoulders and elbows touched, till free circulation became impeded, then congested, then impossible. The crowd, a solid mass, was wedged tight from store front to store front. And from all this throng, this single unit, this living, breathing organism—the people—there rose & droning, terrible note. It was not yet the wild, fierce clamor of riot and in- surrection, shrill, high pitched; but it was & beginning, the growl of the awakened brute, feeling the iron in its flank, heav- ing up its head with bared teeth, the throat vibrating to the long, indrawn snari of wrath. Thus the forenoon passed, while the peo- gle. their bulk growing hourly vaster, €pt to the streets, moving slowly back- ward and forward, oscillating in the grooves of the thordughfares, the steady, low-pitched growl rising continually into the hot, still air, Then, at length, about 12 o'clock, the movement of the throng assumed definite @irection. It set toward the opera-house. Presley, who had left his pony at the City livery stable, found himself caught in the current and carried slowly forward in its direction. His arms were pinioned to his sides by the press, the crush against his body was all but rib-cracking, he could hardly draw his breath. All around him rose and fell wave after wave of faces, bundreds upon hundreds, thousands upon thousands, red, lowering, sullen. All were set in one direction and slowly, slowly they advanced, crowding closer, till they ai- most touched one mnother. For reasons ihat were inexplicable, great, tumultuous heavings, like groundswells of an incoming tide, surged over and through the multitude. At times, Presley, lifted from his feet, was swept back, back, back, with the crowd, till the entrance of the _opera- house was balf a block away: then the returning billow beat back again .and EwWul him along, gasping, staggering, clutching, till he was landed once more in the vortex of frantic action in front of the foyer. Here the waves were shorter, quicker, the crushing pressure on all sides of his body left him without st to utter the cry that rose to his lips; then suddenly the whole mass of struggling, stamping, fighting, writhing men about him seemed, as it were, to rise, to lift, multitudinous, swelling, gigantic, A mighty rush dashed Presley fmum in its leap. There was a momen hirl of confused sights, congested faces, opened mouths, bloodshot eyes, clutching hands; & moment’s outburst of furlous sound, shouts, cheers, oaths; & moment's jam wherein Presley veritably believed ~his ribe must snap like pipestems, and he was carried, dazed, breathless, helpless, an atom on the crest of a storm-driven wave, up the steps of the opera-house, on into the vestibule, through the doors, and at last into the auditorium of the use itself. E There was a mad rush for places; men disdaining the sisle, stepped from one or- chestra chair to another, striding over the backs of seats, lea: the print of dusty ush_cushions. the pavement uwmunmn e lack ana white marble, while Ted, White and yellow flowers were represented as m{u from urns and vases. A 3 e row of chairs stretched across e set & pitcher of water peaker’s e hal! Prom) ‘ these chairs with n!g of the I Beurdes. siow of spesoh , slow of 8 A Garnett opened the meeting; his speech was plain, straightforward, —matter-of- B2 B0 sl S e St un af Tore'th ba drawn . He introduced the next speaker. This one pleaded for moderation. He was conservative. All along he had op- posed the idea of armed resistance ex- ocept as the very last resort. He ‘‘de- lored” the terrible affair of yesterday. e begged the people to wait in patlence, to sttempt no more violence. ~He In- formed them that armed guards of the league were, at_that nnml..nrmmnz Los Muertos, Broderson's Oster- man's, It was well known that the United States Marshal confessed "himself werless to serve the writs. There would no more bloodshed. ““We have had,” he continued, shed enough, and I want to say “blood- tht here that I am not so_sure but what yester- day’s terrible affair might have been avolded. A tieman whom we all es- teem, who the first has been our er, , at this mo- ment, mourning the loss of a you son, killed Dbefore his eyes. Goni knows that I sympathize, as do we all, in the affliction of our president. I am sorry for him. My heart goes out to him in this hour of distress, but, at the same time, tion of the league must be defined. e owe it to ourselves, we owe {l to the ‘pl.mof this counky.‘ The eague armed for the very purpose of pre- serving the peace, not of breaking it. We believed that with six hundred armed and drilled men at our disposal, ready to muster at a moment’s call, we could so overawe any attempt to expel us from our! lands that such an attempt would not be made until the.cases pending before the Supreme Court had been decided. If when the enemy appeared in our midst yester- day they had met by six hundred rifies, it is mot conceivable that the {ssue would have been f No fight would hgve ensued, and to-day we would not have to mourn-the deaths of four of our fellow-citizens. A mistake has been made and we of the league must not be held responsible.” & The speaker sat down amidst loud ap- plause from the leaguers and less pro- nounced demonstrations on the part of the audience, A second leaguer took his place, a tall, clumsy man, half-rancher, half-politician. “1 want to second what my colleague has just said,” he ~“This .matter of resisting the 'Marshal when he tried to put the rallroad dummies in possession on the ranches around here was all talked over in the committee meetings of the league long ago. It mever was our intention to fire a single shot. 'No such absolute authority as was assumed yes- terday was delegated to anybody. Our esteemed president is all right, but we all know that he is a man who loves author- ity and who likes to go his own gait with- out accounting to anybody. We—the rest of us leaguers—never were informed as to what was going on. We supposed, of course, that watch was being kept on the railroad so as we wouldn’t be taken by surprise as we were yesterd: And it seems no watch was kept at all, or if there was, it was mighty ineffective. Our idea was to forestall any movement on the part of the rallroad and then when we knew the Marshal was coming down, to call & meeting of our executive com- mittee and decide as to what should be done. We ought to have had time to call out the whole\luxug, Instead of that, what happens?’ While we're all off chas- ing rabbits, the railroad is allowed to steal a march on us and en it is too late, a handful of leaguers is got togeth- er and a fight is precipitated and our men killed. I'm sorry for our president, too. No one is more so, but I want to put myself on record as believing he did & hasty and inconsiderate thing. If he bad managed right, he could have had six hundred men to oppose the railroad and there would not have been any gun fight or any killing. He didn't manage right and there was a killing and I don't see as how the league ought to be held Tesponsible. The idea of the league, the whole reason why it was organized, was to protect all the ranches of this valley from the raflroad, and it looks to me as if the lives of our fellow-citizens had been sacrificed, not in defending all of - our ranches, bg just in. defense of one of them—Los Muertos—the one that Mr. Der- rick owns.” - The speaker had no miore than regained his seat when a man was seen pushing his way from the back of the stage to- ward Garpett. He handed the rancher a note, at the same time whispering in his ear. Garnett read the note, then came forward to the edge of the stage, holding up his hand. When the audience had fallen silent he said: “I have just received sad news. Our friend and fellow-citizen, Mr. Osterman, died this morning betweem 11 and 1% o‘(i‘lock." i h' nstantly there was a roar. Every man in the bu{ldlnx rose to his feet, shouting, lating. The roar increased, the opera-house trembled to it, the gas jets in the lighted chandeliers vibrated to it. It was & raucous howl of execration, a bel- low of rage, inarticulate, deafening. A tornado of confusion swept wfilrunz from wall to wall and the madness of the moment beized |ml|-l!")|f upon Presley. He forgot himself; he no longer was mas- ter of his emotions or his impulses. All at once he found himself upon the stage, facing the audience, nnmlng with excite- ment, his imagination on fire, his arms lu;lg;ad‘ln en:e‘.i lwlldtxenures, words g to n a torrent that not be withheld. 555 i “One more dead!” he cried, “one more. Harran dead, Annixter dead, Broderson dead, Dabney dead, Osterman dead, Hoo- ven 8ead; shot down, killed, killed n the defense of their homes, killed in the de- fense of their rights, killed for the sake of liberty. How long must it go on?. How long must we suffer? Where Is the end; what is the end? How long must the iron-hearted monster feed on our. life’s :::o::!n! ‘H;w‘lo{u"annn this terror kut e nd steel e u our necks? ‘Will you never be ntllfleg,o afll you never relent, you, our masters, you, our lords, you our kings; you, our task-mastes you our Pharoahs. Will you never liste to that command, ‘Let my people go'? Oh, that cry ringing down the ages. Hear it, hear it. It is the voice of the Lord God lpe.klnsuin his pmnl‘au. Hear it, hear it—Let My people go'! Rameses heard it in his pylons at Thebes, Caesar heard it on the Palatine, the Bourbon Louis heard it at Versaflles, Charles Stuart heard it at Whitehall, the white Czar heard it in the Kremlin—‘Let my people go.' It is the cry of the nations, the great voice of the centuries; everywhere it is raised. The voice of God is the ypice of the peo- ple. The people cry out, ‘Let us, the Pea- ple. God’s people, go.' You, our masters, you, our kings, you, our tyrants, don't you hear us? Don't you hear God speaking in 0s? Will you never let us go? How long at length will you abuse our patience? How long will you drive us? How long will you harass us? Will nothing duunt you? Does nothing check you? Do you not know that t Jepore our cty too long is to wake the ‘error? Rameses re- fused to listen to it and refl.hed miser- ably. Caesar refused to listen and was stabbed 1n the Senate house. The Bour- bon Louis refused to listen and died on the guiligtine; Charles Stuart refused to listen and died on the block: the‘white Czar refused to listen and was blown up in his own capital. Will you let it come to that? WIill you drive us to it? We Wwho boast of our land of freedom, we who live in the country of liberty? “Go on as you have n and it will come to that. Turn & deaf ear to that of ‘Let M ple g0’ too long and an- ::zu él'“{ gr:or-h:g :g:: you e.n:.‘gt choose hear, a can: hut out. It will be the ( The man on the of the man on the ‘a la B-fih’ that wakes the .u""l‘mderror and unleashes revolution. Harassed, plundered, "aes. you love your - euh'h'nohl'o.: ve me reach not out arms for the piliars of your The ai bewildered, con- fused by th invective, sud- denly took fire at his words. There ‘was a roar of aj H .w cant than mere vociferation, s llntm-,uh-hn'_n to speak again, ‘were uttered in the midst of a profound flanki: table m:lw::d'c’m. on :flc‘h was T and & I tures. We cannot escape from ere is no redress. We are told we can defeat them by the ballot-box. They own the ballot-box. We are told that we must look to the courts for redress; they own the courts. We know them for what they ruffians in in are—: itics, finance, ruffians in law, ruffians in trade, hrlmbon, m-wlndletu! s:& tl{lhmm go outrage too great to daunt them, no pel farceny too smail to shame them; a:lroll ing a government treasury of a miilion dollars, yet picking the pockets of a farm hand of the price of a loaf of bread. “They swindle a nation-of a hundred million and call it financlering; they levy & blackmail and call it commerce; they corrugt a legislature and call it politics; they bribe a judge and call it law; they hire blacklegs to carry out their plans and call it organization; they prostitute gno honor of a State and gall it competi- on. “And thfs is America. We fought Lex- ington to free ourselves; we fought Get- tysburg to free others. Yet the yoke re- mains; we have only shifted it to the other shoulder, We talk ‘of Iibcr‘v—fll the farce of it, oh, the folly of it! We tell ourselves and teach our children that we have achieved liberty, that we no longer need fight for it. hy, the fight is just beginning and so long as our conception of liberty remains as it is to-day, it will continue. “For we conceive of Liberty in the statues we raise to her as a beautiful woman, crowned, victorious, in bright ar- mor and white robes, a light in her up- lifted hand—a serene, calm, conquering goddess. Oh, the farce of it, oh, the folly of it! Liberty is not a crowned goddess, beautiful, in spotless garments, victorious, supreme, Liberty {8 the man in the street, a terrible figure, rushing through powder smoke, fouled with the mud and ordure of the gutter, bloody, rampant, brutal, yelling curses, in one hand a smoking rifle, In the other, a blazing torch. “Freedom is not given free to any who asl iberty is not born of the gods. She is a child of the people, born in the very height and heat of battle, born from death, stained with blood, grimed with powder. And she grows to be not a god- dess, but a fury, a fearful figure, slaying {riend and foe ‘alike, raging, insatiable, merclless, the Red Terror.” Presley ceased speaking. Weak, shak- Ing, scarcely knowing what he was about, he descénded from the stage. A prolonged explosion of applause followed, the opera- house roaring to the room, men cheering, stamping, waving their hats. But it was not intelligent applause. Instinctively as e made. his way out,\Presley knew that, after all, he had not once held the hearts of his audience. He had talked as he Wwould have written; for all his scorn of lterature, he had been literary. The men Who listened to him, ranchers, country people, storekeepers, attentive though they were, were not once sympathetic. Vaguely they had felt that-here was something which other men—more edu- cated—would possibly consider eloquent. They applauded vociferousiy but perfunc- torily, in order'to appear to understand, Presley, for all his love of the peopie,’ #aw clearly for one moment that he was an outsider to their minds. Heé had not helped them nor their cause in the least; never would. Dllangolnled. bewlldered; ashamed, he made his way slowly from the opera- house and stood on ‘the steps outside, thoughtful, his head bent, He had failed. Thus he told himself. In that moment of crisis, that at the time he belleved had been an inspiration, he had falled. The people would -not con- sider him, would not believe that he could do them' service. Then seemed to remember. The resolute set of his lips returned once more. Pushing his way through the crowded streets, he went g?. t';zowud the stable where he had left ny. Meanwhile, in the opera-house, a gréat commotion had occurred. Magnus Der- rick had appeared. Oaly a sense.of enormous responsibility, of gravest duty could have prevalled upon Magnus to have left his house and the dead body of his son that day. But he was the president of the league, and never ce its organization had a meeting of such imnortance as this one been held. He had been in command at the irrigatin ditch the day before. It was he who ha gathered the handful of leagueru together, It was he who must bear the responsibili- ty_of the fight. ‘When he had entered the opera-house, making his way down the central aisle loward the stage, a loud disturbance had roken out, partly applause, partly a mea.nln:luu uproar. Many had pressed forward to ‘shake his hand, but others were not found wanting who, formerly his stanch supporters, now scenting opposi- tion 1in the air, held back, hesitating, afraid to compromise themselves by ad- hering to the fortunes of a man whose ac- tions might be discredited by the very or- Banization of which he was the head. Declining to take the chair of grenldln; officer which Garnett offered him, the Governor withdrew to an angle of the stage, where he was joined by Keast. This one, still unalterably devoted to Magnus, acquainted- him briefly with the te‘r.xor of the speeches that had n made. I am ashamed of them, Governor,” he protested indignantly, “to lose their nervs now! To fail you now! it makes my bloo boil. If you had succeeded y t-r‘ly. it all had gone well, do you think we would haye heard of any talk of umption of Authority,’ or ‘acting without advice and consent’? As if there was any time to call a meeting of the executive committee. g)uy:t‘;' hndn;d a:led L{’aeyou dlg t! ebwhtgo would bave beén gral beg the raflroad. Get up, Governor, and hri.ny ‘em all up standing. Just tear 'em to pleces; show ’em that you are the head, the boss. That's what they need. at killipg yesterday has shaken the nerve clean out of them.” For the instant the Governor was taken all aback. ~What, his lieutenants were falling him? What, he was to be ques- tioned, interpolated upon yesterday’s “ir- repressible conflict”? Had disaffection appeared in the ranks of the league—at this, of all moments? He put from him' his terrible grief. The cause was in dan- .in At the instant he was the president of the league only, the chief, the master. A royal anger surged within him, a wide, towering scorn of opposition. He would crush this disaffection in its incipiency, would vindicate himself and strengthen the cause at one and the same time, He stepped forward and stood in the speak- er's place, turning partly toward the au. dience, partly toward the assembled leaguers. “Gentlemen of the lea " he began, “citizens of Bonneville—' But at once the silence in which the Governor had begun to speak was broken by a shout. It was as though his words had furnished a signal. In a certain quarter of the ?llery‘ directly opposite, a man arose, and in a voice partly of de- rision, partly of defiance, cried out: “How about the bribery of those two elegates at Sacramento? Tell us about That's what we want to hear about. A great confusion broke out. first cry was repeated not only by the nal speaker, but by a whole group of ich be was but a part. Others in the audi- ence, however, seeing In the disturbance only’ the clamor of a few rallroad sup- rters, attempted to howl them down, iseing vigorously and exclaiming: “Put 'em out, put 'em out!” “‘Order, order!” called Garnett, pound- ing with his gavel. The whole opera-house was in an uproar. But the interruption of the Governor's speech was evidently not unpremeditated, Tt began to look like a_deliberate and planned attack. Persistently, doggedly, the group jn the gallery vocl: eratef “Tell us” how you bribed the delegates at Sacramento. Before you throw mud at the railroad, let's see {f you are clean yourself.” T, er—Magnus Derrick, uncon- victed briber! Put him out.” Keast, beside himself with anger, pushed down the aisle underneath where the recalcitrant group had its place and, shaking his fist, called up at them: ““You were paid to break up this meet- ing. If you bhave anything to say, yo will. be -afforded the “opportunity, but l‘i you do not let the !enuemnn proceed, the police will be called upon to b\sl you out.” But at this, the man who had raised the ifst. shout leaned over the balcony rall, and, his face flaming with wrath. lhbllladk: “Yah! talk to mé of your police. Lool out we don’t call on them first to arrest Konr president for bribery. You and your owl about law and justice and corrup- tion! Here”—he turned to the audience— “‘read about him, read the story of how the Bacramento convention was ho\l“hnt the printed by Magnus Derrick, president of z:aquln League. Here's the facts ‘With the words he stoo] from under his seat dn‘lflo pac] +of extra editions of the Bonne- ville Mercury, not an hour.off the . Other ally la bundles of the paper appea: in_the s of the up. The stri: cut handtuls”and armrals, the papers w flung out over.the heads of E& a nce I?Meflth. The air was full of flut- ter of the newly printed sheets. They over the rim of the gallery like suddenly he - ds_of trous, inged ts, set- at Bonneville, Ci juist, at the moment Slod “upon the" Hengs madtiato” the Hands his mail in his office in San Fran- of the audience, were passed swiftly from eisco, was genuinely surprised to receive g.ln to m& and wi flvfn Txhxiugn of a “vé;l:“!rnm Prul:y.m first outbreak one , upon my word, Pres,” use had read detailed and the tact: the man R e tantiated account of Magn & rick's “deal” with th: political bosses of the to convention. Genslinger, after pocketing!the Govern- or's hush money, had *sold him out. Keast, Wm of indignation, made his way upon the stage. The lill“tl‘l were in wild confusion. Half the assembly of them were on thelr feet, bewildered, shouting vaguely. From pro- scenfum wall to foyer the opera-house HEes tumult of noise. The gleam of the thousands of the Mercury extras was like the flash of zlhlle caps on a troubled sea. Keast fa the audience. “Liars! hs shouted, striving with all the power of his voice to dominate the clamor, “liars and slanderers! Your pa- r {8 the paid organ of the corporation. ou have not one shadow of proof to back you up. Do you choose this, of all times, to heap your calumny upon the head of an honorable gentleman, already rostrated by your murder of ,\.:lu son? 0ofs—we demand your proofs!’ “We've the very Assemblymen themsel back the answering speak. Where is he Lo dtsn s ll‘; let h!m deny it. rove the charge.’ “'ber:c , Derrick!” thundered the ofiwhnm east wheeled about. Where was Mag- nus? He was not in sight upon the stage. He h&d disa; . Crowding through the throng of leaguers, Keast got from off the stage into the wxnfl. ere the crowd was no less dense. Nearly every one had & cop‘ of the Mercury. It was being read.aloud to groups here and there, and once Keast overheard the wo %. I wonder if this is tr “Well, and even if it was turning upon the speaker, the last ones to'kick, In any case, i was done for our benefit. It elected the Ranch- ers’ Commission,” ‘A lot of benefit we got out of the Ranchers’ " retorted the other. ‘“And then,” protested a third speaker, “that ain’t the way to do—if he did do it— bribing Legislatures. Why, we were buckln; corrupt politics. We couldn’t afford to be corrupt.” Keast turned away with a gesture of im- patience. He pushed his way farther on. ‘At last, opening a small door in a hall- way back of the stage, he came upon us. The room was tm{!. It was a dressing- room. Onl‘ two nights before it had been used by the leading actress of a comic nreu trou whlchimd played for three nights at Bonneville. A tattered sofa and limping toilet table occupied a third of the space. The air was heavy with the smell of stale se paint, ointments, and sachet. Faded photographs of young wo- men in tights and gauzes ornamented the mirror and the walls. Underneath the sofa was an old pair of corsets. The -ri.nclod skirt of a pink dress, turned in- .slde out, hung nst the wail. And In the midst of such environment, surrounded by an excited group of men who gesticulated and shouted in his very face, e, alert, agitated, his thin lips rest tightly together, stood Magnus errick, . - “Here,” cried Keast, as he entered, clos- ing the door behind' him, ‘“‘where’s the Governor? Here, Magnus, I've been look- ing for you. The crowd has gone wild out there. You've got to talk 'em down. Come gut there and give those blacklegs the lie. They are saying you are hiding.” But before Magnus could reply, Garnett tyrned to Keast. Commission, “Well, tha’ ; what we want him to do, o 3 cried the half-dozen men who crowded around Magnus, “yes, that's w;n(ut we wnntli hlmuto do.” ast turned to Magnus. "alhy, l’!’glt'! ali thus, Governor exclaimed. “You've got to answer that. Hey? why don’t you give 'em the lie?’ “I-1,” afinu loosened the coliar about his throat, “it is a lie. I will not stoop—I would not—would—be—~it would be beneath my—my—it would he beneath me."” edst stared in ‘amazement. Was this the Great Man, the Leader, indomitable, of Roman integrity, of Roman valor, be- fore . whose voice whole conventions bhad quailed? Was it possible he was afraid to face those hired vilifiers? ““Well, how about this!"" demanded Gar- nett suddenly. “It is a lie, isn't it? That Ic::mmllalon ‘was elected honestly, wasn't “How dare you, sir!” Magnus burst out. ‘“How dare you question me—call me to :clcoum! Please understand, sir, that 1 olera 2 “Oh, quit it!"" erfed./a voice from the oup. _“You can’t scare, us, Derrick. bit sort of talk was well e Mbukh once; but it don’t go any more. We want a yes or no answer." 3 % ¢ It was gone—that old-time- power of mastery, that facuity of command. The ground crumbled beneath his feet. Long since it had been, by his own hand, un- dermined. Authority was gone. Why keep up this misergble sham any longer? Could they not read the lie in his face, in his voice? What a folly t§ maintain the wretched pretense! He had failed. He ‘was ruin Harran was gore. His ranch would soon go; his money was gone. Ly- man was worse than dead. His own honor had been prostituted. Gone, gone, everything he held dear, gone, lost, and swept away in that flerce struggle. And suddenly and all in a moment the last remaining shells of the fabric of his being, the sham that had stood alread wonderfully long, cracked and collapsed. ‘“Was the commission honestly elected?” insisted Garnett. “Were the delegates—did you bribe the delegates?” “We were obliged to shut our eyes to means,” faltered us. “There was no other way to—" Then suddenly and with the last dregs of his_resolution he con- c““llied with: “Yes, I gave them each.” . “Oh, hell! Oh, my God!" exclaimed Keast, sitting swif! down upon the ragged sofa. ‘here was a long silence. A sense of poignant embarrassment descended upon those present. No one knew what to sa: or where to look. Garnett, with a labore: attempt at nonchalance, murmured: “I see. that's what I was trying I Hee."™S. ‘“Well,” gaid Gethings at length, bestir- rlni Limself, “I guess I'll go home.” There was a movement. The group broke up. the men making for the door. One tg one they went out. The last to go was Keast, He came up to Magnus and shook the Governor's limp hand. o “Good-by, Governor,” he said. “T'll see you again pret% soon. Don’t let this dis- courage you. They'll come around all ht, after a while. So long.” e ‘went out, shutting the door. And seated in the one chair of the room ”lfinul Derrick remalned a long time, looking at his face in the cracked mirror that for so many years had reflected the painted faces of soubrettes. in this at- mo-x ere of stale perfume and moldy rice powder. It had come—his fall, his ruin. After so many years of integrity and honest battle his life had ended here—in an actress's dressing-room, deserted by his friends, hi son murdered, his dishonesty known. an old man, broken, discarded, discredited, and abandoned. Before nightfall of that day, Bonneville was further excited by an astonishing bit of news. 8. Behrman lived In a detached house some distance from the town. surrounded by a grove of live oak and eu- calyptus trees. At a little after half-past six, as he was sitting down to his -upfimf. a borgh ‘was thrown through the window of his dining-room, exploding near the doorway leading Into the hall. The room was wrecked and nearly every window of the house was shattered. By a miracle, S. Behrman, himself, remained untouched. VIIL a certain afternoon in the early part ologuly, about a month after the fight at the irrigating ditch and the mass meeting Olilirasibanartn i 1 i AL Gl Y The Octopus ix one of the longest novels of the day and :lenhn it win take five i This splendid novel began in the Sunday Call of November £ will be completed next day, December 7. By pur- chasing these five iswues of the Sunday Call you get this novel—FREE! “The Octopus” was written by the late Frank Norris. It is Mr. Norris’ strongest movel. It has justly been conaider- ‘ed the nearest approach to the “great American novel] ever written. g It portrays life and scenes in California more vividly than any other book extant. Complete in five issues of the Sunday Call—November 9, 16, 23, 30 and December 7. 1 —_— .chances, selzl x the ligh held open for him, “upon my word, ha: you been sick? Sit down, my boy. Have : 'lll'l of sherry. I always keep a bottle ere.” Presley accepted the wine and sank Into the de:{hn of a great leather chair near by, ““Sick?” he answered. “Yes, I have been 1 I'm slck now. I'm gone to pieces, His manner was the extreme of listless- ness—the listlessness of great fal gue. “Well, well,”” observed the other. “I'm right sorry'to hear that. What's the trouble, Pres?” 3 *‘Oh, nerves mostly, I suppose, and my head, and insomnia, and weakness, & gen- eral collapse all along the line, the doctor tells me. ‘Over-cerebration,’ he says; ‘over-excitement.’ I fancy I er nar- rowly missed brain fever.” % ““Well, I can easily suppose it” an- swered Cedarquist gravely, “after all you lmlglre ?:enxth:d mh 3 they were sunk- ‘esley closi s eyes—they 4 en in circles of dark brown flesh—and ressed a thin hand to the back of his ead. is a nightmare,” he murmured. “A “It frighttul nightmare, and it's not over yet. You have heard of it all only through the newspaper reports. But down_ there, at Bonneville, at Los Muertos—oh, you can have no idea of it, of the misery caused by the defeat of the ranchers and by this decision of the Supreme Court that dis- possesses them all. We had gone on hoping to the last that we would win there. We had thought that in the Su- Preme Court of the United Stat. at least, we could find justice. And the news of its decision was the worst, last blow of all. For Magnus it was the last—posi- tively the very last.” “Poor, poor Derrick,” murmured Cedar- quist. “Tell me about him, Pres. Hew gg;g_ he take it? What is he going to “It beggars him, sir., He sunk a great deal more than any of us believed in-his ranch, when he resolved to turn off most of the tenants and farm the ranch him- self. Then the fight he made against the roilroad ifi the courts and the political campaign he went into, to get Lyman on the Railroad Commission, took more of it. The money that Genslinger black- mailed him of, it seems, was about all he had left. He had been gambling—yeu know the Governor—on another bonanza crop this year to recoup him. Well, the - bonanza came right enough—just in time for 8. Behrman and the railroad to grab it. Magnus is rulned.” £ “What a tragedy! what a tragedy! murmured the other. ‘‘Lyman lumms rascal, Harran /killed, and now this; an &ll within so short a time—all at the same time, you might almost say. “If it had only killed him, Presley; “but that is the worst of i ow the worst?” T'm afraig, honestly, I'm afraid it is going to turn his.wits, sir. It's broken him; oh, you should see him, you should see him. A shambling, stooping, trémb- ling old man, in his dotage already. He sits all day In the dining-room, turning over papers, sorting them, tying them up, opening them again, forgetting them—all fumbling and numbling and confused. And at table sometimes he forgets to eat. And, listen, you know, from the house we can hear the trains whistling for the long trestle. As often as that happens the Gov- ernor seems to be—oh, don't know, frightened. He will sink his head between his shoulders, as though he were dodfing something, and he won't fetch a long breath again till the train is out of hear- ing. He seems to have conceived an ab ject, unreasoned terror of the raflroad.” “But he will have to leave Los Muertos now, of course?” “‘Yes, they will all have to leave. They have a fortnight more. The few tenants that were still on Los Muertos are leav- ing. That is one thing that brings me to the city. The family of one of the men who was killed—Hooven was his name— have come to the city to find work. I think they are liable to be in Sl“e’lll dis- tress, unless they have been wonderfuily lucky, and I am trying to find them in order to look after them.” “You need looking after yourself, Pres.” “‘Oh, once away from Bonneville and the sight of the ruin there, I'm better. But I1ntend to go away. And that makes me think, I came to ask you if you could help me. If you would let me take passage on one of your wheat ships. The doctor says an ocean voyage would set me up.” “Why, certainly, Pres,” declared Cedar- quist. “But I'm sorry you'll have to go. ‘We expected to have ' you down in the country with us this winter.” Presley shook his head. “No,” he answered. ‘1 must go. Even if 1 had all my health, I could not bring myself to stay in California just now. If you can introduce me to one of your cap= tains—"" “With pleasure. When do you want to g0? You may have to wait a few weeks. Qur first ship won't clear till the end of the month.” . Il ‘hat would do very well. Thank you, sir.” But Cedarquist was still interested In the land troubies of the Bonneville farm- ers, and took the first occasion to ask: “So, the railroad, Is In possession on most of the ranches?” “On all of them?' returned Presley. “The league went all to pieces, so soon as Magnus was forced to resign. The old story—they got 3uurrelln‘ among them- selves, Somebody started a compromise party, and upon that issue a new presi- dent was elected. Then there were de- fections. The railroad offered to lease the lands in question to the ranchers— the ranchers who owned them,” ‘he e: claimed bitterly, “‘and because the terms were nominal—almost nothing—plenty of the men took the chance of sa them- selves. And, of course, once signing the lease, they acknowledged the railroad's utle.’ But_the road would not lease to Magnus, S. Behrman takes over Los Muertos in a few weeks now.” “No doubt, the road made over Iits title in the property to him." observed Cedarquist, ‘‘as a reward of his services.” “No doubt,” murmured Presley wearily. He rose to go. “By the way,” sald Cedarquist, “‘what have you on hand for, let us say, Friday evening? Won't you dine with us then? The giris are going to the country Mon- day of next week, and you probably won't see them again for some time if you take that ocean voyage of yours.” 'm afraid I shall be very poor com- "’ hazarded Presley. ‘“‘There's 0 life in me at all these days. I al clock with a broken spring.” “Not broken, Pres, my boy,” urged the other, ‘only run down. Try and see if we can't wind you up a_ bit. Bay that we can expect you. e dine at seven.” n""rhank you, sir. Till Friday at seven, en."” ¥ Regaining the street, Presley sent his valise to his club (where he had engaged a rqom) by a messenger boy, and board- ed a Castro-street car. Before leaving Bonneville, he had ascertalned, by stren- uous inquiry, Mrs. Hooven's address in the city, and thitherward he now directed his steps. ‘When Presley had told Cedarquist that he was ill, that he was jaded, worn out, he had only told half the truth. Ex- hausted he was, nerveless, weak, but this apathy was still invad from time to time with fierce incursions of a spirit of unrest and revolt, reactions, momentary returns. of the blind, undirected energy that at one mce had. prompted him to a vast desire to acquit himself of some ter- rible deed of readjustment, just what, he could not say, some terrifying martyrdom, some awe-inspiring immolation, consum- mate, incisive, conciusive. He fancied himself to be fired with the purblind, mis- taken herofsm of the anarchist, hurling his victim to destruction with full knowl- edge that the catastrophe shall sweep him also into the vortex it creates, But his constitutional irreseluteness ob- structed his path continually; brain-sick, weak of Will, emotional, timid even, he temporized. procrastinated, brooded; came to decisic ns in the dark hours of the night, ounly to av n_them in the morning. Once only he had acted. And at Lhis moment, as he was carried through &g windy, squalid streets, he trembled at the reg:ml;‘r‘nm b:: l!,l The honbt}r of “what might' have n” incompatible with the vengeance whose minister he fancied ne was, oppressed him. The scene perpelul- ly reconstructed itself in his i nation. He saw himself under the shade of the encompassing trees and shrubbery, continued i W ng opportunities, ted windows where e upon admkuh-mardadta.mutmln . . the feel and weight her’s bomb—the six pipe. His upraised arm + could not repress a There was a shiver of smashed windew- panes, then—a void—a red whirl clke:.:- fusion, the air rent, the ground rocking, himself flung headlong, flung off the spin ning circumterence of things out into & Dléce of terror and vacancy and darkn And then after a long timé the n!\lfl: of reason, the consciousness that his fee *were set upon the road to Los Muertos, and that he was fleeing terror-stricken, mnlnx. all but insane with "m“' n the never-to-be-forgotten night that ensued, when he descended Into the pit, horrifiéd at what he supj he had done, at one moment ridden with remorse, at another raging against his own feeble- Dess, his lack of courage, his wretched, vacillating spirit. But morning had come, and with it the knowledge that he h: failed, and the baser assurance that he Was not even remotely suspected. His own escape had been no le4s miraculous than that of his enemy, nn/;e had fallen on his knees in Inarticulaté prayer, weep- Hl' uring out his thanks to God for the 'verance from the gulf to the very brink of which his feet had been drawn. After however, there had come to Presley a deep-rooted suspicion that he was—of all human _beings, the most wretched—a fallure. Everything to which he-had set his mind fa ed—his great epic, his efforts to help the people who sur- rounded him, even his attempted destruc- tion of the enemy, all thuegmd come to nothing. Girding his shattered strength :nnt{u'r. lra rentlvo;lh upon one last at- empt to live up to the it that was in ll}lrm. and to that end had set himseif to out of the despair Into oL e 8 L which they had German, Hooven. After all was over, and Hooven, to- runr with the seven others who had allen at the irrigating ditch, was buried in the Bonneville ‘Cemetery, Mrs. Hooven, asking no one’s aid or advice, and taking with her Minna and little Hilda, had gone to San Francisco—had gone to find work, abandcning Los Muertos and her home forever. Presley only learned of the de- Eu-tnrg of the family after fifteen days ad elapsed. H At once, however, the suspicion forced itself upon him t Mrs. Hooven—and Minna, too, for the matter of that—coun- try-bred, easily come to grief in the h: huge struggle of city life. This suspicion had swiftly hardened to a conviction, actin; at last upon which Presley had followe: them to San Francisco, bent upon finding and assisting them. The house to which Presley was led by the address in his memorandum book was a cheap but fairly decent hotel near the ower house of the Castro street cable. e inquired for Mrs. Hooven. The landlady recollected the Hoovens perfectly. “German woman, with a little girl-baby, and an older daughter, sure. The older daughter was main pretty. Sure I remem- ber them, but they ain’t here no more. They left a week ago. I had to ask them for the'r room. As it was, they owed a efik'l room-rent. Mister, I can’t af- ford—"" ““Well, do you know where they went? Did iou hear what address they had their trunk expressed to?” ““Ah, yes, their trunk,” vociferated the woman, clapping her hands to her hips, her face purpling. ‘“Their trunk, ah, sure. I got thelr trunk, and what are you !olng to do about it? I'm holding it till I get my money. What have-you got to say about it? Let’s hear it.” Presley turned away with a gesture of discouragement, his heart sinking. On the street corner he stood for a long time, frowping in trouble and perplexity. His suspicions had been only too well founded. 8q ‘ong ago as a week, the Hoovens had exhausted all their little store of money. For seven days now thgr have been with- out resources, unless, indeed, work had been found; “and what,” he asked him- self,” what work in God's same could they find to do here in the city?” Seven days! He qualled at the thought of it. Seven days without money, oW~ ing not a soul in alf that swarming city. Ignorant of city life as both Minna and her mother were, would they even realize that there were institutions built and gen- erously endowed for just such as they? He knew them to have thelr share of pride, the dogged sullen pride of the peas- ant; even If they knew of charitable or- ganizations, would they, could they bring themselves to aprly there? A gl;nmt anxiety thrust itself sharply into Presley’s heart. Where were they now? Whers had they slept last night? Where break- fasted this mornirz? Had there even been any breakfast this morning? Had there even been any bed last night? Lost and forgotten in the plexus of the city’s life, what had befallen them? Toward what fate was the ebb tide of the streets drifting them? . Was this to be still another theme wrought out by iron hands upon the old, the world-old, the world-wide keynote? How far were the consequences of that dreadful day's work at the irrigating ditch to reach? To what length was the tentacle of the monster to extend? Presley returned toward the central, the businees guarter of the city, alternately formulating and dismissing from his mind plan after plan for the finding and alding of Mrs. Hooven and her daughters. He reached Montgomery street and turned tolward his club, his imagination once more reviewing all the causes and cir- cumstances of the great battle of which for the last cighteen months he had been witness, - All at once he paused, his eye caught by a sign affixed to the wall just inside the street entrance of a huge office build- ing, and, smitten with an {dea, stood for an instant, motionless, upon the sidewalk, his eyes wide, his fistd shut tight. ‘The_building contained the general of- fice of the Pacific and Southwestern Rail- road. Large though it was, it neverthe- less was not pretentious, and during his visits to the city Presley must have passed it, unheeding, many times. But for all that it was the stronghold of the énemy—the center of all that vast ramifying system of arteries that drained the life-blood of the State; the nucleus of the web in which so many lives, so many fortunes, so many destinies had been en- meshed. From this place—so he told him- self—had emanated that policy of extor- tion, oppression and injustice’ that little by little had shouldered the ranchers from their rights, till, their backs to the wall, exasperated and despairing, they had turned and fought and died. From here had come the orders to S. Behrman, to Cyrus Ruggles and to Genslinger, the or- ders that had brought Dyke to a prison, that had killed Annixter, that had ruined Magnus, that had corrupted Lyman. Here was the keep of the castle, and here, be- hind one of those many windows, in one of those many offices, his hand upon the levers of his mighty engine, sat the mas- “ter, Shelgrim himself. Instantly, upon the realization of this fact an ungovernable desfre seized upon Presley, an inordinate curiosity. Why not see, 'face to face, the man whose power was so vast, whose will was so resistless, whose potency for evil so limitless, the reaved family of the man who or se long and so hopelessly they had all been fight- ing. By reputation he knew im to be approachable; why should he got then approach him? " Presley took is resolution in both hands. If he failed to act upon this impulse, he knew he would never act at all. s heart beating, his breath coming short, he entered the building, and in a few moments found himself seated in an anteroom, his eyes fixed with hypnotic lntarultl upon the frosted pane of an adjoin nl’ loor, where- on in gold letters was inscribed the ‘word, Tatie e, Pesey bad by n e end, esley een e to find that Shel, still lnfu%'wu|' - already very late, fter six o’clock, and the other offices in the building were in the act of closing. Many of them were already deserted. At every instant, through the open door of the anteroom. he caught a glimpse of clerks, office boys. bookkeepers, and other employes hurry- ing toward fhe stairs and elevators, quit- ting business for the day. Shelgrim, it seemed, still remained at ‘ll desk, know- lnwo fatigue, requiring no leisure, ““What time does Mr. Shelgrim usually ::"x:mrui‘m‘z_:ged tPrefley of the young N orms af o 'A"; “‘hum:;‘ 8 i t the table in “Anywhere 'ween half-past seven,” the other nnawe:d. .::m.n';d ;‘Ve't'y often he comes back in the even- ng. . And the man was 70 years old. Presley murmur. of astonish- ment. Not only mentally, then Brestasnt_ ot the B and . W 2 gant = P . a t. Boaing Thers Wit the. coirat ”::{:‘.“v': A’ man- 4 concentra of pu 1] wrecked tg: ‘n.m: and 5‘.'1‘:5“ !‘hlt mind ‘o‘f.‘:g-ny men in the prime of their B‘uht- the next instant Presley set his tee “It is vi » it b AR D Backen the ] e life-blood A little electric hand he said to him- ting HT Ve from an entire trilled a ignorant of city ways, might “Mr. will see you, sir.” hm a hgo. ‘well lighted, but singularly barren office. A well-worn carpet was on the floor, two steel engrav- ings hung agalnst the wall, an extra chair or two stood near a large, plain, littered table. That was absolutely all, uniess he excepted the corner washstand, on which was set a pitcher of ice water, covered with a clean, stiff napkin. man, evi- dently some sort of .m: T’ assistant, stood at the end of the le, leaning on the back of one of the chairs. Shelgrim himseif sat at the table. He, was large, almost to massiveness. An fron-gray beard and a mustache that completely hid the mouth covered the lower part of his face. His eyes were a pale biue, and a lit ‘watery; here and there upon face were moth spots. But the enormou8 breadth of the shoulders was what, at first, most vividly forced itself upon Presley’'s notice. Never had he seen a broader man: the neck, however, seemed, in a manner to have settied Into the shoulders, and furthermore they were humped and rounded, as if to bear great responsibilities, and great abuse. At the moment he was wearin, silk skull-cap, pushed to one side and a little awry, a frock coat of broadeloth, with long sleeves, and a waistcoat from the Jower buttons of which the cloth was worn _and, upon the edges, rubbed away, showing the metal underneath. At the top this waistcoat was unbuttoned and in the shirt front disclosed were two pearl “Pnlle , uninvited, unnoticed, apparent- 1y, sat down. The assistant manager was in'the act of making g report. His voice was not lowered, -Il: Presley heard every hat was spoken. wordat > rt proved interesting. It con- cerned a bookkeeper In the office of the auditor of disbursements. It seems he was at most times thoroughly reliable, hard-working, industrious, ambitious. But at long intervals the vice of drunkenness seized upon the man and for three days rode him like a hag. Not only during the riod of this intemperance, but for the lew days immediately following, the man was useless, his work untrustworthy. He was a family man and earnestly strove to rid himseif of this habit; he was, when sober, valuable. In consideration of these facts, he been pardoned again T " “You remember, Mr. Shelgrim,™ ob- served the manager, “that you have mors than once interfered in his hehufi when we were disposed to let him go. don’t think we can do anything with him, sir. He promises to reform continually, but it is the same old story. This last time we saw nothing of him for four days. Hon- estly, Mr. Shelgrim, I think we ought to let Tentell out. We can’t afford to keep him. He is really losing us too much money. Here's the order ready now, if you care to let it go.” There was a pause. Presley all attention, listened breathlessly. The assistant mana- ger laid before his president the typewrit- ten order in question. The silence length- ened; In the hall outside, the wrought- iron door of the elevator cage siid to with a clash. Shelgrim did not look at the order. He turned his swivel chair about and faced the windows behind him, look- ing out with unseeing eyes. At last he spoke: “Tentell has a family, wife and three children. How much do we pay him?” “One hundred and thirty.” “Let’s double that, or say two hundred and fifty. Let's see how that will do.” “Why—of course—if you say 8o, but really, Mr. Shelgrim—"" s “Well, we'll try that, anyhow. Presley had not time to readjust his perspective to this new point of view of the president of the P. and 8. W. before the assistant manager had withdrawn. Shelgrim wrote a few memoranda on his calendar pad, and signed a couple of let- ters before turning his attention to Pres- ley. At last, he looked up and fixed the young man with a direct, grave glance. He did not smile. It was some time be- fore he spoke. At last, he sald: “Well, sir.” Presley advanced and took a chair near- er at hand. Shelgrim turned and from his desk picked up and consulted Pres- ley’s card. Presley observed that he read without the use of glasses. “You,” he said, again facing about, “you are the young man who wrote the poem ed “The Tollers. ‘es, sir.’” t seems to have made a great deal of talk, I've read it, and I've seen the picture in Cedarquist's house, the pic- ture you took the idea from.” Presley, his senses never mors alive, ob- served that, curiously enough, Shelgrim did not move his body. His arms moved, and his head, but the great bulk of the man regalned immobile in Iits place, and as the Interview proceeded an this peculiarity emphasized itself, Pres- ley ~began to conceive the odd idea that Shelgrim had, as it were, placed his body in the chair to rest, while his head and brain and hands went on working independently. A saucer of shelled filberts stood near his elbow, and from time to time he picked up one of these In a great thumb and foreflnger and put it between his teeth. “I've seen the picture called ‘The Toil- “and of {:a o ’ "' continued Shelgrim, like the picture better poem.” “The picture is by a master,”” Presley hastened to interpose. “And for that reason,” sald Shelgrim, “it leaves nothing more to be sald. You might just as well have kept quiet. There’s only one best way to say any- thing. And what has made the picture of "The Tollers’ great is that the artist said in it the best that could be said oa the subject.” “I had never looked at it in just that light,” observed Presley. He was con- fused, all at sea, embarrassed. What he had expected to find in Shelgrim, he could not have exactly said. But he had been prepared to come upon on ogre, a brute, a terrible man of blood and iron, and in- stead had discovered a sentimentalist and an art critic. No standards of meas- urement in his mental equipment would apply to the actual man, and it began to dawn upon him that possibly it was not because these standards were differ- ent in kind, but that they were lamentably deficient in size. He began to see that here was the man not only great, but large; many-sided, of vast sympathies, who_understood with equal intelligence, the human nature in an habitual drunk- ard, the ethics of a masterpiece of paint- ing, and the financiering and operation of ten thousand miles of rallroad. “I had never looked at it in just that light,” repeated Presley. “There is a great deal in what you say.” “I 1 am to listen,” continued Shelgrim, “to_that kind of talk, I prefer to listen to it first hand. 1 would rather listen to ‘what the great French painter has to say, than to what you have to say about what he has already said.” His h, loud and emphatic at first, when the idea of what he had to say was fresh in his mind, lapsed and lowered it- self at the end of his sentences as though he had already abandoned and lost inter- est in that thought, so that the concluding words were indistinct, beneath the gray beard and mustache. Also at times there was the faintest suggestion of a lisp. “I wrote that poem,” hazarded Presley, “at a time when I was terribly upset. I live,” he concluded, “or did live on the Los Muertos ranch in Tulare County— u‘ufl“’ Derrick’s ranch.” “The raliroad's ranch leased to Mr. Der- rick,” observed Shelgrim. Presley spread out his bands with a helpless, resigned gesture. “And,” continued the president of the P. and 8. W. with 'grave intensity, look- ing at Presley keenly, “I suppose you be- lieve I am a grand old rascal.” “I believe, ered Presley, “I am answi persuaded—" He hesitated, searching - for s words. “Believe this, young man,” Shelgrim, la] a thick powerful fore- finger on the table to emphasize his words, “try to believe this—to begin with —that raflroads bufld themseives. Where there is a demand sooner or later there will be a supply. Mr. Derrick, does he grow his wheat? The wheat grows itself. ‘What does he count for? Does he supply the force? What do I count for. Do I build the railroad? You are dealing with forces, 7ollgamn. when you speak of wheat and railroads, not with men. There is the wheat, the supply. It must be carried to feed the people. There is the demand. The wheat is one force, the railroad, another, and there is the law exclaimed .that governs them—supply and demand. Men have only little to do in the whole business. Complications may arise, con- ditions that bear hard on the individual— crush him maybe—but the wheat will be carried to feed the people as inevitabiy as it will grow. If you want to fasten the blame of the affair at Los Muertos on any orle person, you will make a mistake. “But—but,” faltered Presley, “you are the _head, you control the road.” ““You ar man. Control I can go into But otherwise If (Conoluded Next Week) I