In the Shadow of the Hills by George C. Shedd (the best ebook reader for android txt) 📕

whose respect was to be prized. Beside him she felt herself small and ordinary. That was all right, but she was determined he should not believe her insignificant, shallow, unworthy, mercenary.

While she could not explain matters openly without shaming herself and still lowering herself in his estimation, he being only an acquaintance, yet there were ways of getting at the end. Janet could act adroitly, like most women, when it best served the purpose.

"Do you know, I just learned from friends of yours on Terry Creek that you're a public benefactor as well as an engineer," she stated, when they paused on the hillside for a last look at the dam.

"I?" he exclaimed.

His eyes came around and found hers fixed on him.

"I happened to stop at the Johnson ranch. They didn't say so, but I know they would be pleased to death if you would go to dinner there some day. They have some fine fat chickens, if you like chicken fried or baked, and they hesitate to ask you only because they're afraid you'll refuse."

"Fried chicken is my weakness. Of course I'll go; at the first spare chance."

But all the while Steele Weir's mind was eddying with wonderment. He had colored at mention of the Johnson ranch, as if he had been caught with a hand in a jam pot. And it meant only one thing: she knew of the Bowenville episode. Involuntarily his eyes flashed to her left hand with which she was brushing back the hair under her hat brim. There was no diamond solitaire on its third finger. Surely, something had happened.

"Well, I must be returning home. I just thought I'd give you a tiny hint," said she. An odd smile rested on her lips as she spoke, for hints may carry multiple suggestions.

"By Jove!" Weir said suddenly.

Man of action though she knew him to be, she never anticipated he would or could act so directly. He reached out and seized her left hand and scanned it significantly. Then he raised his eyes.

"What does this mean?" he asked, tapping the finger with one of his own. "Does this mean----"

It was Janet's turn to become scarlet. She tried to smile again, but it was a wavering smile that appeared.

"What does what mean?" she fenced.

"That--well, that the ring is off permanently?"

"Oh, yes."

"And that there's now a chance for me?"

Janet's eyes at that popped open very wide indeed. Meanwhile Weir still held to the palm resting in his own.

"You?" she breathed, faintly.

"Me, yes."

Presently with a gentle movement she drew her hand free. She had been quite dumbfounded, but not so dumbfounded that she did not realize that this new situation had requirements of its own. He appeared absolutely sincere and resolute.

"But I never dreamed of such a thing!" she stammered.

"Nor I--because until now I hadn't the right. All I ask is that you give me your friendship--and a chance--and--well, we'll see."

"There's no reason why we shouldn't be friends," said she. "We are already, aren't we?"

"Yes--now. I never actually thought so before."

"Things have changed," she stated. And her lips closed with a firm pressure as she spoke. "Or I shouldn't have been here inspecting the dam, should I?" Again the smile flashed upon her face. "You may consider this a preliminary inspection to that of your high and mighty directors, and I assure you my verdict--is that the word?--is favorable. Now I must be going to the car. Father likes his meals on time."

"And when shall I see you again?"

The note of eagerness in his voice set her heart moving a bit faster. If he carried on his engineering work as he did his friendship, no wonder he got things done.

"Why, when you wish to call, Mr. Weir. Both father and I shall be pleased to have you come any time."

"I'll certainly avail myself of the privilege," said he. "You must really go now?"

With a feeling of exaltation at this new turn of affairs he watched her drive away from camp, a feeling that persisted during the succeeding days.

The three directors arrived. That was Thursday evening; and Friday and Saturday were devoted to a discussion of construction plans, inspection of the works, analysis of costs and so on. Weir found the men what he expected: quick to comprehend facts, incisive of mind, and though of course not engineers yet able to measure results; while they on their part were appreciative of the exceptional progress made and of his thorough command of the project. They knew the first hour that the right manager was in charge at last.

Saturday afternoon Sorenson and Judge Gordon called at headquarters, by appointment, to discuss the grievance held locally against the company. Weir was present at the meeting.

"As to whether the Mexican workmen who were discharged were actually giving a full return in work for the wages, as you maintain, gentlemen," said Mr. Pollock, one of the directors and a corporation lawyer from New York, in reply to the visitors' statement, "that is a question not of opinion but of fact."

"Fact, yes," Judge Gordon argued. "Fact supported by the evidence of the three hundred workmen against that of a single man, your manager, who had just come."

"Are not your three hundred men prejudiced witnesses?" the New Yorker inquired, a slight smile upon his thin face.

"No more than is Mr. Weir."

"But Mr. Weir is the manager and consequently has the power of decision in such matters."

"Not to the extent of revoking unfairly your promise, given orally, to be sure, but still given, to employ local labor." Sorenson was the speaker and his heavy face wore an expression of ill-disguised contempt.

"Agreed. Local labor was to be hired," said Pollock. "But our company isn't a philanthropic institution; it's run on strictly business principles. Any agreement we made implied that local workmen should give exactly what other workmen would give in work."

"They did so," Judge Gordon affirmed.

"There was no trouble until this man came," Sorenson remarked. "I suppose he felt that he had to show his authority."

"Ah, but there was if not trouble at any rate dissatisfaction on our part," Pollock stated, tapping a finger on the table. "Construction wasn't progressing as we knew it should, which was the very reason for getting a new manager, one who could speed it up. But as I said, it all comes down to a question of fact. You gentlemen offer your workmen's avowals of industry to support your claim; Mr. Weir, on the other hand, gives us some definite records to back up his side. Here they are for the last week the workmen from San Mateo and neighborhood worked--his first week here; and for the succeeding weeks under the men shipped in; in material used, in cubic yards of concrete construction, and in percentage of work finished. Examine them if you please. They show daily and weekly results to be just a trifle less than double for the corresponding time the imported workmen have been here. In other words, the new men have, while shortening the time of completion, given twice as much work for exactly the same wage paid your Mexicans. In other words, too, your local laborers cancelled our agreement by their own incompetence."

"Your manager could easily have doctored those records," Sorenson stated, coldly.

"You scarcely mean that, sir," Pollock instantly replied icily, his amiability vanishing.

"Come, Judge, we may as well go, I think. We're appealing to a prejudiced court." And Sorenson arose.

"Our decision to view the matter like Mr. Weir is because his position is sustained by these facts, not because we're prejudiced, as you insinuate. But I may add that it would not be strange if we were prejudiced, as we've become convinced that you gentlemen haven't been sincere in your attitude towards our company and if anything are strongly hostile. Any one may be deceived for a time, and we were, but not permanently. You would have done much better to have recognized that we have a perfect right to build this project on land that we bought and with water that we acquired. For it will be built in any case and in spite of such local opposition as may be made." Pollock flicked the ash from his cigar with a careful finger. "That is a mere piece of information or a declaration of war, whichever way you wish to take it."

"I told you we were wasting our time coming here," the cattleman said to his companion.

"Good day, gentlemen," said Judge Gordon, politely.

And the pair went out to Sorenson's machine.

Shortly after, the two other directors left to catch a train at Bowenville, Pollock planning to stay with Weir to formulate a report during the next day or two for presentation to the entire directorate at its next meeting. Sorenson caught a glimpse of the car whirling through town, with Weir at the wheel, who with Pollock accompanied the departing men that certain unsettled points might be discussed up to the last moment.

As Weir and Pollock were returning, the latter eyed the engineer and laughed.

"You've evidently brushed these fellows', Sorenson's and Gordon's, fur the wrong way to please them. But they'll probably leave us alone from now on."

"They'll not leave me alone."

"Eh? How's that?"

"Well, I have, as it happens, a little trouble with them on my own hook. A private matter antedating the building of the dam. They're after me. I had to put a piece of lead into a fellow who tried to kill me from the dark one night. I speak of it in case you should be told and wonder; otherwise I should not have mentioned the thing. I'm not popular in San Mateo, in consequence."

"Ah, I had heard nothing of that. It interests me. You were not touched."

"My hat, that was all."

"Very interesting, very interesting, indeed," was Pollock's only comment. But if his tone was casual, his eyes were busy in sidelong study of the engineer, making a new appraisal and drawing fresh conclusions.

Meanwhile several knots were being tied in the web of circumstance. Sorenson took his telephone and conversed briefly with Vorse, passing the information that he had just seen the three directors leaving for the east. So they were out of the way. In reply the saloon-keeper stated that he would start the whisky end of the game that evening. By the morrow, Sunday, when the camp was at rest, the workmen would all be "celebrating." Burkhardt had reported the last load of "southern cattle" shipped in and driven on the range the previous evening--a seemingly innocent statement that Sorenson understood perfectly. Up in the hills, safely hidden in the timber, lay the fifty men brought from Mexico to make the assault on the dam the next night, men whose instruments of destruction would be fire and dynamite. Twenty-four hours more would bring the moment of action.

Ignorant of all this Ed Sorenson had been forming a little individual scheme that would promote his own affairs, chief of which was to win Janet Hosmer. Drinking heavily ever since his rebuff, he had sunk into a condition of evil determination and recklessness that made him fit for any desperate act. After much meditation fed by whisky, he had evolved a plan that would bring him success. Thereupon he had loaded his car with a quantity of selected stuff and made a mysterious journey