HE MAKES IT ROUND NUMBERS
"It's a telegram from Johnnie Bones," said Scattergood Baines to his wife, Mandy, as he tore open the yellow envelope and read the brief message it contained.
"Telegram!" said Mandy. "Why didn't he write? Them telegrams come high.... Huh! Jest one word—'Come.' Costs as much to send ten as it does one, don't it?"
"Identical," said Scattergood.
"Then," said Mandy, sharply, "if he was bound to telegraph why didn't he git his money's worth?"
"I calc'late he thought he said a plenty," Scattergood replied. "Johnnie he don't like to put no more in writin' that's apt to pass from hand to hand than he's obleeged to.... Mandy, looks like we better start for home."
"What d'you s'pose it kin be?" Mandy asked, already busy laying clothing in their canvas telescope. "Mostly telegrams announces death or sickness."
"I kin think of sixty-nine things it might be," said Scattergood, "but I got a feelin' it hain't none of 'em."
"We shouldn't of come away on this vacation," said Mandy. "Johnnie Bones is too young a boy to leave in charge."
"Johnnie Bones is a dum good lawyer, Mandy, and a dum far-seein' young man. I don't calc'late Johnnie's done us no harm. Hain't no hurry, Mandy. We can't git a train home for five hours."
"We'll be settin' right in the depot waitin' for it," said Mandy, who declined to take chances. "Be sure you keep your money in the pants pocket on the side I'm walkin' on. Pickpockets 'u'd have some difficulty gittin' past me."
"Only thing ag'in' Johnnie Bones," said Scattergood, "is that he hain't a first-rate hardware clerk."
Scattergood, in spite of the ownership of twenty-four miles of narrow-gauge railroad, of a hundred-odd thousand acres of spruce, and of a sawmill whose capacity was thirty thousand feet a day, persisted in regarding these things as side lines, and in looking upon his little hardware store in Coldriver as the vital business of his life. It was now ten years since Scattergood had walked up Coldriver Valley to the village of Coldriver. It was ten years since he had embarked on the conquest of that desirable valley, with a total working capital of forty dollars and some cents—and he not only controlled the valley's business and timber and transportation, but generally supervised the politics of the state. He could have borne up manfully if all of it were taken away from him—excepting the hardware store. To have ill befall that would have been disaster, indeed.
On the train Scattergood turned over a seat to have a resting place for his feet, took off his shoes, displaying white woolen socks, a refinement forced upon him by Mandy, and leaned back to doze and speculate. When Mandy thought him safely asleep she covered his feet with a paper, to conceal from the public view this evidence of a character not overgiven to refinements. It is characteristic of Scattergood that, though wide awake, he gave no sign of knowledge of Mandy's act. Scattergood was thinking, and to think, with him, meant so to unfetter his feet that he could wriggle his toes pleasurably.
Johnnie Bones was waiting for Scattergood at the station.
"Johnnie," said Scattergood, "did you sell that kitchen range to Sam Kettleman?"
"Almost, Mr. Baines, almost. But when it came to unwrapping the weasel skin and laying money on the counter, Sam guessed Mrs. Kettleman could keep on cooking a spell with what she had."
"Johnnie," said Scattergood, "you're dum near perfect; but you got your shortcomings. Hardware's one of 'em.... What about that telegram of yourn?"
"Yes," said Mandy.
"Mr. Castle, president of the G. and B.—"
"I know what job he's holdin' down, Johnnie."
"—came to see you yesterday. I wouldn't tell him where you were, so he had to tell me what he wanted. He wants to buy your railroad. Said to have you wire him right off."
"Um!..." Scattergood walked deliberately, with heavy-footed stride, to the telegraph operator, and wrote a brief but eminently characteristic message. "I might," the telegram said to President Castle.
"Now, folks," he said, "we'll go up to the store and sort of figger on what Castle's got in mind."
They sat down on the veranda, under the wooden awning, and Scattergood's specially reinforced chair creaked under his great weight as he stooped to remove his shoes. For a moment he wriggled his toes, just as a golfer waggles his driver preparatory to the stroke. "Um!..." he said.
"Castle," said he, presently, "works for jest two objects—makin' money and payin' off grudges. Most gen'ally he tries to figger so's to combine 'em."
Johnnie and Mandy waited. They knew better than to interrupt Scattergood's train of thought. Had they done so he would have uttered no rebuke, but would have hoisted himself out of his chair and would have waddled away up the dusty street, and neither of them would ever hear another word of the matter.
"He knows I wouldn't sell this road without gittin' money for it. Therefore he's figgerin' on makin' a lot of money out of it, or payin' off a doggone big grudge.... Somebody we don't know about is calc'latin' on movin' into this valley, Johnnie. Somebody that's goin' to do a heap of shippin'—and that means timber cuttin'.... And it must be settled or Castle wouldn't come out and offer to buy."
Johnnie and Mandy had followed the reasoning and nodded assent.
"What timber be they goin' to cut?" Scattergood poked a chubby finger at Johnnie, who shook his head.
"The Goodhue tract, back of Tupper Falls. Uh-huh! Because there hain't no other sizable tract that I hain't got strings on. And the mills, whatever kind they be, will be at Tupper Falls. Mills got to be there. Can't git timber out to no other place. And, Johnnie, buyin' timber is a heap more important and difficult than buyin' mill sites. Eh?... Johnnie, you ketch the first train for Tupper Falls. I own a mite of land along the railroad, Johnnie, but you buy all the rest from the falls to the station. Not in my name, Johnnie. Git deeds to folks whose names we're entitled to use—and the more deeds the better. Scoot."
"Now, Scattergood, don't go actin' hasty," said Mandy. "You don't know—"
"The only thing I don't know, Mandy, is whether Johnnie 's too late to buy that land. Knowin' nobody else wants it, and it hain't no good for nothin' but what they want it for, these folks may not have bought yit...."
Scattergood shouted suddenly at the passing drayman. "Hey, Pete.... Come here and git a cookin' range and take it up to Sam Kettleman's house. Git a man to help you. Tell Mis' Kettleman I sent it, and she's to try it a week to see if she likes it. Set it up for her and all."
Scattergood settled back to watch with approval, while two men hoisted the heavy stove on the wagon and drove away with it. Presently Sam Kettleman appeared on the porch of his grocery across the street, and Scattergood called to him: "Well, Sam, glad you decided to git the woman a new stove. Shows you're up an' doin'. It's all set up by this time."
Sam stared a moment; then, smitten speechless, he rushed across the road and stood, a picture of rage, glaring at Scattergood. "I didn't buy no stove. You know dum well I didn't buy no stove. I can't afford no stove. You jest git right up there and haul it back here, d'you hear me?"
"Well, now, Sam, don't it beat all—me makin' a mistake like that? Sure I'll send after it, right off.... Now I won't have to order one special for Locker." Locker was the rival grocer. "I kin haul this one right to his house, and explain to him how he come to git it so soon. I'll say: 'Locker, we jest hauled this stove down from Sam Kettleman's. Had it all set up there and then Sam he figgered it was too expensive a stove for him and he couldn't afford it right now on account of business not bein' brisk.'"
"Eh?" said Kettleman.
"'Twon't cause a mite of talk that anybody'll pay attention to. Everybody knows what Locker's wife is. Tongue wagglin' at both ends. And I'll take pains to conterdict whatever story she goes spreadin' about you bein' too mean to git your wife things to do with in the kitchen, and about how you're 'most bankrupt and ready to give up business. Nobody'll b'lieve her, anyhow, Sam, but if they do I'll explain it to 'em."
"Now—"
"Locker's wife'll be glad to have it, too. She'd have to wait two weeks for hers, and now she'll git it right off. Oven's cracked on hern, and she allows she sp'iles every batch of bread she bakes—and her pledged to furnish six loaves for the Methodist Ladies' Food Sale...."
"Scattergood Baines, if you dast touch my stove I'll have the law onto you. You can't go enterin' my house and removin' things without my permission, I kin tell you. Don't you try to forgit it, neither. If you think you can gouge me out of my stove jest to make it more convenient for Mis' Locker, you're thinkin' wrong...."
"'Tain't your stove till it's paid for, Sam."
"Then, by gum! it'll be mine darn quick. Thirty-eight dollars, was it? Now you gimme a receipt.... Locker!..."
Scattergood waddled into the store, wrote a receipt, and put the money in the safe. When Sam had recrossed the road again he turned to Johnnie Bones. "Sellin' hard-ware's easy if you put your mind to it, Johnnie. Trouble with you is you don't take no int'rest in it.... Next time you'll know better. Train's goin' in fifteen minutes. Better hustle."
Next noon Scattergood was in his usual place on the piazza of his store when the train came in. Presently Mr. Castle, president of the G. & B., came into view, and Scattergood closed his eyes as if enjoying a midday snooze. Mr. Castle approached, stopped, regarded Scattergood with a pucker of his thin lips, and said to himself that the man must be an accident. It was one of Scattergood's most valuable qualities that his appearance and manner gave that opinion to people, even when they had suffered discomfiture at his hands. Mr. Castle coughed, and Scattergood opened his eyes sleepily and peered over the rolls of fat that were his cheeks.
"Howdy?" said Scattergood, not moving.
"Good day, Mr. Baines. You got my message?"
"Seein' as you got my reply to it, I must have," said Scattergood.
"Can we talk here?"
"I kin."
Mr. Castle looked about. No one was within earshot. He occupied a chair at Scattergood's side.
"I understand your message to mean that you are willing to sell your railroad."
"I calculate that message meant jest what it said."
"I know what your railroad cost you—almost to a penny."
"Uh-huh!" said Scattergood, without interest.
"I'll tell you why I want it. My idea is to extend it through to Humboldt—twenty miles. May have to tunnel Hopper Mountain, but it will give me a short line to compete with the V. and M. from Montreal."
"To be sure," said Scattergood, who knew well that such an extension was not only impracticable from the point of view of engineering, but also from the standpoint of traffic to be obtained. "Good idee."
"I'll pay you cost and a profit of twenty-five thousand dollars."
"Hain't interested special," said Scattergood. "I git that much fun out of railroadin'."
"It isn't paying interest on your investment."
"I calculate it's goin' to. I'm aimin' to see it does."
"Set a figure yourself."
"Hain't got no figger in mind."
"Mr. Baines, I'll be frank with you. I want your railroad."
"So I jedged," said Scattergood.
"I need it. I'll pay you a profit of fifty thousand—and that's my last word."
Scattergood closed his eyes, opened them again, and sat erect. "Now that business is over with," he said, "better come up and set down to table with Mandy and me. Mandy's cookin' is considered some better 'n at the hotel."
"You refuse?"
"I was wonderin'," said Scattergood, "if you had any notion if I could buy the Goodhue timber reasonable?"
"Eh?" said Mr. Castle, startled. "The Goodhue timber?"
"Back of Tupper Falls."
"Who told—" Mr. Castle snapped his teeth together sharply.
"Leetle bird," said Scattergood. "Dinner's ready."
"There might come a time when you'd be mighty glad to sell for less than I'm offering."
"Once there was a boy," said Scattergood, "and he up and says to another boy, 'I kin lick you,' The story come to me that the boy sort of overestimated his weight.'"
"I'm not threatening you," said Castle.
"It's a privilege I don't deny to nobody.... Say, Mr. Castle, be you goin' into this deal to make money or to take somebody's scalp?"
"Baines," said Mr. Castle, "I'll buy you the best box of cigars in Boston if you'll tell me where you get your information."
"Hatch it," said Scattergood, gravely. "Jest set patient onto the egg, and perty soon the shell busts and there stands the information all fluffy and wabbly and ready to grow up into a chicken if it's used right."
"Will you answer a fair question?"
"If our idees of the fairness of it agrees with one another."
"Has McKettrick got to you first?"
It was the information Scattergood wanted, but his dumplinglike face showed no sign of satisfaction. As a matter of fact, he did not know who McKettrick was—but he could find out. "Don't seem to recall any conversation with him," he said, cautiously, leaving Castle to believe what he desired—and Castle believed.
"He was keeping his plans almighty dark. I don't understand his spilling them to you. It cost me money to find out."
"Dinner's waitin'," said Scattergood.
"Did he offer to buy your road?"
"If he did," said Scattergood, "it didn't come to nothin'."
It will be observed that Scattergood had obtained important information, though affording none, and in addition had surrounded himself with a haze through which President Castle was unable to see clearly. Castle knew less after the interview than he had known when he came; Scattergood had discovered all he hoped to discover.
Johnnie Bones came home next noon and reported to Scattergood that he had been partially successful.
"I couldn't get all of that flat," he said. "Somebody's been buying on the quiet. Three strips from the river to the hill were not to be had, but I bought four strips, two at the ends and two between the pieces I couldn't get."
"Better call it a side of bacon, Johnnie. Strip of fat and strip of lean. Dunno but it's better as it lays. Hear anythin' about the Goodhue tract?"
"Somebody's been cruising it for a month back—without a brass band."
"Um!... Send a wire, Johnnie. Lumberman's Trust Company, Boston. Set price Goodhue tract...."
Johnnie telephoned the wire. Two hours later the answer came, "Goodhue tract no longer in our hands."
"Did you ever wonder, Johnnie, why I never got int'rested into that Goodhue timber?"
Johnnie shook his head.
"Because," said Scattergood, "you got to log it by rail. Forty thousand acres of it, and no stream runnin' through it big enough to drive logs down.... But I got an idee, Johnnie, that loggin' by rail can be done economical. Know who bought that timber?"
"No."
"McKettrick of the Seaboard Box and Paper Company, biggest concern of the kind in America. Calc'late they'll be makin' pulp here to ship to their paper mills. Calculate I'll give 'em a commodity rate of around seven cents to the G. and B. Johnnie, our orchard's goin' to begin givin' a crop. That'll give us sixteen dollars and eighty cents for haulin' a minimum car of twenty-four thousand. And this hain't goin' to be any one-car mill, neither. Five cars a day'll be increasin' our revenue twenty-four thousand three hunderd dollars a year—on outgoin' freight. Then there's incomin' freight to figger. All we got to do is set still and take that. Beauty of controllin' the transportation of a region. But it seems like we ought to git more out of it than that—if we stir around some. Especial when you come to consider that McKettrick and Castle is flyin' at each other's throats. It's a situation, Johnnie, that man owes a duty to himself to take advantage of."
Scattergood went back to his hardware store and seated himself on the piazza. Presently a team drove up from down the valley and a tall, gaunt individual, with hair of the color of a dead leaf, alighted.
"I was told I could find a man named Scattergood Baines here," he said.
"You kin," Scattergood replied.
"Where is he?"
"Sich as he is," said Scattergood, "you see him."
The man looked from Scattergood's shoeless feet and white woolen socks to Scattergood's shabby, baggy trousers, and then on upward, by slow and disapproving degrees, to Scattergood's guileless face, and there the scrutiny stopped.
"Some mistake," he said; "I want the owner of the Coldriver Valley Railroad."
"It may be a mistake," said Scattergood. "Calculate it is a mistake to own a railroad. But 'tain't the only mistake I ever made."
"You own the road?"
"Calculate to."
Evidently the stranger was not impressed by Scattergood in a manner to arouse him to a notable exertion of courtesy. He allowed it to appear in his manner that he set a light value on Scattergood; in fact, that it was not exactly pleasant to him to be compelled to do business with such a human being. Scattergood's eyes twinkled and he wriggled his toes.
"Well, Baines," said the stranger, "I want to talk business to you."
"Step into my private office," said Scattergood, motioning to a chair at his side, "and rest your legs."
"I'm thinking of establishing a plant below," said the stranger. "A very considerable plant. In studying the situation it seems as if your railroad might be run as an adjunct to my business. I suppose it can be bought."
"Supposing" said Scattergood, "is free as air."
"I'll take it off your hands at a fair figure."
"'Tain't layin' heavy on my hands," said Scattergood.
"How much did it cost you?"
"A heap less 'n I'll sell for.... You hain't mentioned your name."
"McKettrick."
Scattergood nodded.
"I'd sell to a man of that name."
"How much?"
"One million dollars," said Scattergood.
"You're—you're crazy," said McKettrick. It was an exclamation of disgust, a statement of belief, and a cry of pain. "I might go a quarter of a million."
"This here's a one-price store—marked plain on the goods. Customers is requested not to haggle."
"You're not serious?"
"One million dollars."
"I'll build a road down my side of the river."
"Maybe. Can be done. Twelve mile of tunnel and the rest trestle. Wouldn't cost more 'n fifteen, twenty million—if you're figgerin' on the west side of the stream.... How you figgerin' on gettin' your pulp wood down to Tupper Falls?"
"What?... What's that?"
"Goin' to log, yourself, or job it?"
"Look here, Baines, what do you know?"
"About what's needful. I try to keep posted."
"Tell me what you know. I insist."
Scattergood opened his eyes and peered over his dumpling cheeks at McKettrick, but said nothing.
"And how you found it out."
"I've been figgerin' over your case," said Scattergood. "I'll give you a sidetrack into your yards pervidin' you pay the cost of bridgin' and layin' the track, me to furnish ties and rails. Also, I'll give you a commodity rate of seven cents to the G. and B. As to sellin', I don't calc'late you want to buy at a million. But that hain't no sign you and me can't do business. You got to log by rail. You got to cut consid'able number of cords of pulpwood. I'll build your loggin' road, and I'll contract to cut your pulp and deliver it.... Want to go into it with me?"
McKettrick peered at Scattergood with awakened interest. His scrutiny told him nothing.
"What backing have you?"
"My own."
McKettrick almost sneered.
"Been lookin' me up?" asked Scattergood.
"No."
"Let's step to the bank."
McKettrick followed Scattergood's bulky figure-wondering.
In the bank Scattergood presented the treasurer. "Mr. Noble, meet Mr. McKettrick. He wants you should tell him somethin' about me. For instance, Noble, about how fur you calculate my credit could be stretched."
"Mr. Baines would have no difficulty borrowing from five hundred thousand to three quarters of a million," said Noble.
"How's his reppitation for keepin' his word?" said Scattergood.
"The whole state knows your word is kept to the letter."
"What you calculate I'm wuth—visible prop'ty?"
"I'd say a million and a half to two millions."
"Backin' enough to suit you, Mr. McKettrick?" asked Scattergood.
McKettrick wore a dazed look. Scattergood did not look like two millions; he did not look like ten thousand. His bearing became more respectful.
"I'll listen to any proposition you wish to make," he said.
"Come over to Johnnie Bones's," said Scattergood.
In a moment they were sitting in Johnnie's office, and McKettrick and Johnnie were acquainted.
"Here's my proposition," said Scattergood. "I'll build and equip a loggin' road accordin' to your surveys. You furnish right of way and enough money to give you forty-nine per cent of the stock in the company we'll form. I kin build cheaper 'n you, and I know the country and kin git the labor. You pay the new railroad a set price for haulin' pulpwood—say dollar 'n a quarter to two dollars a cord, as we figger it later.... Then I'll take the job of loggin' for you and layin' down the pulpwood at sidings. It'll save you labor and expense and trouble. I've showed I was responsible. The new railroad company'll put up bonds, and so'll the loggin' company—if you say so."
This was the beginning of some weeks of negotiations, during which Scattergood became convinced that McKettrick was wishful of using him so long as he proved useful; then, when the day arrived for a showing of profit on the profit sheet, the same McKettrick was planning to see that no profit would be there and that Scattergood Baines should be eliminated from consideration—to McKettrick's profit in the sum of whatever amount Scattergood invested in the construction of the railroad. It was a situation that exactly suited Scattergood's love of business excitement.
"If McKettrick had come up here wearin' better manners," said Scattergood to Johnnie, "and if he hadn't got himself all rigged out as little Red Ridin' Hood's grandmother—figgerin' I'd qualify for little Red Ridin' Hood without the eyesight for big ears and big teeth that little girl had—why, I might 'a' give him a reg'lar business deal. But seem's he's as he is, I calc'late I'm privileged to git what I kin git."
Therefore Scattergood made it a clause in the contract that all the stock in the new railroad and construction company should remain in his own name until the road was completed and ready to operate. Then 49 per cent should be transferred to McKettrick. This McKettrick regarded as a harmless eccentricity of the lamb he was about to fleece.
The new company was organized with Johnnie Bones as president, Scattergood as treasurer, an employee of McKettrick's as secretary, and Mandy Baines and another employee of McKettrick's as the remaining two directors.
While the negotiations regarding the railroad were being carried on, another matter arose to irritate Mr. McKettrick, and, in some measure, to take the keen edge off his attention. Scattergood usually endeavored to have some matter arise to irritate and distract when he was engaged on a major operation, and it was for this reason he had bought the four strips of land at Tupper Falls.
McKettrick awoke suddenly to find that his men had not secured the site for his mills, and that, apparently, it could not be secured. He discussed the thing with Scattergood.
"Prob'ly some old scissor bills that got a notion of hangin' on to their land," Scattergood said.
"It can't be that, for the sales to the present owners were recent. The new owners refuse absolutely to sell."
"And pulp mills hain't got no right of eminent domain like railroads."
"All substantial businesses ought to have it," said McKettrick. "You know these folks. I wish you'd see what you can do."
"Glad to," Scattergood promised, and two days later he reported that all four landowners might be brought to terms. Three would sell, surely; one was holding back strangely, but the three had put the matter into the hands of a local real-estate and insurance broker, by name Wangen. "We'll go see him," said Scattergood.
Which they did. "My clients," said Wangen, importantly, "realize the value of their property. That, I may say, is why they bought."
"It cost the three of 'em less 'n three thousand dollars for the three passels," said Scattergood.
"Prices have gone up," said Wangen.
"Give them two hundred dollars profit apiece," said McKettrick.
"Consid'able difference between givin' it and their takin' it," said Scattergood. "I agree with that," said Wangen.
"Now, Wangen, you and me has done consid'able business," said Scattergood, "and you hain't goin' to hold up a friend of mine."
"If it was a personal thing, Mr. Baines; but I've got to do my best for my clients."
"What's your proposition?"
"Five thousand dollars apiece for the three strips."
"It's an outrage," roared McKettrick. "I'll never be robbed like that."
"Take it," said Wangen, "or leave it."
"You've got to have it," Scattergood whispered.
McKettrick spluttered and stormed and pleaded, but Wangen was firm and gave but one answer. There could be but one result: McKettrick wrote a check for fifteen thousand dollars—and still had one strip to buy—a strip not at an edge of his mill site, but bisecting it.
This strip caused the worry when Scattergood needed attention distracted the most. But Scattergood managed finally to secure it for McKettrick for seventy-five hundred dollars. Thus it will be seen how Scattergood resorted to the law of necessity, and how McKettrick suffered from failure to build securely his commercial structure from its foundation. Twenty-two thousand two hundred and fifty dollars were paid by McKettrick for land that had cost Scattergood exactly three thousand six hundred dollars. Scattergood believed in always paying for services rendered, so Wangen and each of the four ostensible landowners were given a hundred dollars. Net profit to Scattergood, eighteen thousand one hundred and fifty dollars.
"Which it wouldn't 'a' cost him if he hadn't looked sneerin' at my stockin' feet," said Scattergood to Johnnie Bones.
Johnnie Bones prepared the papers for the incorporation of the new railroad, and the organization was perfected. There were two thousand shares of one hundred dollars each. McKettrick put in his right of way at five thousand, an excessive figure, as Scattergood knew well, and gave his check for the balance of his 49 per cent. Scattergood deposited a check for his 51 per cent, or one hundred and two thousand dollars. Work was begun grading the right of way immediately.
McKettrick vanished from the region and did not appear again except for flying visits to his rising plant at Tupper Falls. He never inspected so much as a foot of the new railroad back into the Goodhue tract—and this, Scattergood very correctly took to be suspicious. The work was left utterly in Scattergood's hands, with no check upon him and no inspection. It was not like a man of McKettrick's character—unless there were an object.
Once or twice Scattergood encountered President Castle of the G. & B. while the road was building.
"Hear you're putting in a logging road for McKettrick," he said.
"For me," said Scattergood. "Stock stands in my name. Calculate to operate it myself."
"Oh!" said Castle, and drummed with his fingers on the window ledge. Scattergood said nothing.
"Own the right of way?" asked Castle.
"'Tain't precisely a right of way," said Scattergood. "It's a easement, or property right, or whatever the lawyers would call it, to run tracks over any part of McKettrick's property and operate a loggin' railroad—where McKettrick says he wants to get logs from."
"No definite right of way?"
"Jest what I described."
"Capitalized for two hundred thousand, I see."
"Uh-huh!"
"Any stock for sale?"
"Not at the present writin'."
"At a price?"
"Wa-al, now—"
"Say a profit of twenty dollars a share."
"It'll pay dividends on more 'n that figger," said Scattergood, "which," he added, "you know dum well."
"Yes," said Castle, "but for a quick turnover—and I'm not figuring dividends altogether."
"Kind of got a bone to pick with McKettrick, eh?"
"Maybe."
"Tell you what I'll do," said Scattergood. "I'll sell you forty-nine per cent of the stock at a hunderd and twenty. Stock to stand in my name till the road's ready to operate, I don't want it known I've been sellin' any.... Shouldn't be s'prised if you was able to pick up control one way and another—but I hain't goin' to sell it to you."
"I see," said Castle, closing his eyes and squinting through a slit between the lids. "It's a deal, Mr. Baines," he said, presently.
"Cash," said Scattergood.
"You'll find a certified check in the mail the day after I get the proper papers."
Which transaction gave Scattergood another profit on the whole affair of nineteen thousand six hundred dollars—this time a capitalization of the spite of man toward man. It will be seen that McKettrick owned 49 per cent of the stock, Castle, 49 per cent, and Scattergood, 2 per cent. He was now in a position to await developments.
They arrived as the railway was on the point of running its first train. McKettrick brought them in person. He burst upon Scattergood as Scattergood sat in front of his hardware store, and began to storm.
"What's this? What's this?" he roared. "What's that railroad doing up the easterly side of our timber? It's waste money, lost money. It'll have to be rebuilt. We've made all arrangements to cut off the westerly side. Now we'll have to swamp roads and log by team till the road can be moved."
"Um!..." said Scattergood, "so that's it, eh? I was wonderin' how it would come."
"It was an inexcusable blunder, and it'll cost you money. You know how the railroad's contract with the company reads. Who gave you directions to run up the easterly side?"
"My engineer got 'em in your office."
"Oh, your engineer. He made the mistake, eh? Then the mistake's yours, all right, for every scrap of writing in our office has the word 'westerly' in it, plain and distinct. It means tearing up those rails, grading a new line—and you'll pay for it. I sha'n't stand loss for your mistake. It'll cost you a hundred thousand dollars for that blunder."
"Hain't you discoverin' it a mite late?"
"It was left wholly to you."
"Seems like I noticed it," said Scattergood. "So all that work's lost, eh? Seems a pity, too."
"You don't seem to take it seriously."
"You bet I do, and I calculate to look into it some."
"It won't do any good. The mistake is plain."
"Shouldn't be s'prised. I git your idee, McKettrick. You've been figgerin' from the start on smougin' me out of what I invested in that road, eh?... By the way, your stock's in your name. I'll git the certificates out of the safe."
McKettrick shoved the envelope in his pocket. "The Seaboard Box and Paper Company will force you to remove your tracks from our land. I'll sue you for damages for your blunder. The Seaboard will sue the new railroad for damages for failure to have the tracks into the cuttings on time. I guess when we begin collecting judgments by levying on the new road, there won't be much of it left. The Seaboard will come pretty close to owning it."
"And you and I will be frozen out, eh?" said Scattergood.
McKettrick purred and smiled. "Exactly," he said. "Now, my advice to you is not to fight the thing. You can't deny the blunder and you'll save cost of litigation."
"What's your proposition?"
"Transfer your stock to the Seaboard."
"And lose a hunderd and two thousand?"
"It's not our fault if you make expensive mistakes."
"Course not," said Scattergood. "I admit I hain't much on litigation. S'posin' you and me meets in Boston to-morrow with our lawyers, and sort of figger this thing out."
"There's nothing to figure out—but I'll meet you to-morrow. You're sensible to settle."
"Calc'late I be," said Scattergood.
That afternoon Johnnie Bones carried President Castle's 49 per cent of the railroad's stock to the G. & B. offices, and gave them into the hands of the railroad's chief executive.
"Mr. Baines will be here to-morrow. There will be a meeting at his hotel at three o'clock. McKettrick will be there."
"I'll come," said President Castle.
The meeting was held in the shabby hotel which Scattergood patronized. McKettrick was there with his attorney, Scattergood was there with Johnnie Bones—and last came President Castle.
At his entrance McKettrick scowled and leaped to his feet.
"What do you want here?" he demanded.
"Well," said Mr. Castle, with a smile which descended into great depths of disagreeability, "I own forty-nine per cent of the stock in this concern. I imagine I have a right to be here."
"What's that? What's that?" McKettrick glared at Scattergood, who sat placidly removing his shoes.
"Calc'late I'll relieve my feet," he said.
"So I got you, too," McKettrick said to Castle. "I didn't figure on that luck."
"Got me? I'm interested."
McKettrick explained at length, and, as he explained, Castle glared at him, and then at Scattergood, with increasing rage. As he saw it there was a plot between Scattergood and McKettrick to get him—and he appeared to have been gotten. He started to speak, but Scattergood stopped him.
"Jest a minute, Mr. Castle," he said. "'Tain't time for you to cuss yet. Maybe you won't git to do no reg'lar cussin' a-tall. You see, McKettrick he up and made a little error himself. Regardin' me makin' an error. Yass.... I don't calc'late to make errors costin' upward of a hunderd thousand. No.... Not," he said, "that I got any doubts about the word 'westerly' appearin' in all the papers McKettrick's got regardin' this enterprise. What I doubt some is whether the word 'westerly' was there right from the start off of the beginnin'. In other words, it looks to me kind of as if McKettrick had done a mite of fixin' up to them documents. Rubbin' out and writin' in, so to speak."
"Fiddlesticks!" said McKettrick. "Of course that is what you would charge."
"McKettrick," said Scattergood, "did you figger I'd take notes in lead pencil on my cuff of where I was to build that railroad? Did you figger I was goin' to lay down a railroad without knowin' the place I put it was where it b'longed? Castle he knows me better 'n you, and he wouldn't guess I'd do sich a thing. No, sir, Mr. McKettrick. I took them original papers out of your office for jest a day, and bein' as they constituted an easement on land, I got 'em recorded in the office of the recorder of deeds. Paid reg'lar money in fees to have it done. And who you think I got to compare the records with the original in case somethin' come up, eh? Why, the circuit jedge of this county and the prosecutin' attorney—they both bein' personal and political friends of mine.... That's what I done, and if you'll search them records you'll find the word 'easterly' standin' cool and ca'm in every place where it ought to be.... So, if you're figgerin' on litigation, I guess maybe we'll litigate, eh?"
"These are the references to the records," said Johnnie Bones, laying a memorandum on the table. "You'll find them correct."
"Knowing Baines as I do," said President Castle, "I'm satisfied."
McKettrick and his attorney were conversing in hoarse whispers. McKettrick looked like a man who had come out of a warm bath into a cold-storage room. He was speechless, but his lawyer spoke for him.
"You win," he said, succinctly.
"Always calc'late to when I kin," said Scattergood. "Now, don't hurry, gentlemen. I got another leetle matter to call to your attention. McKettrick there's got forty-nine per cent of the stock in the railroad that's built where it ought to be, and Castle's got another forty-nine per cent. That leaves two men with all but two per cent of the stock, and neither of them in control. If I know them men they hain't apt to git together and agree peaceable and reasonable. Therefore, the feller that has the remainin' two per cent of the stock, or forty shares, stands perty clost to controllin' the corporation, eh? Him votin' with either of the forty-nine per cents? Sounds that way, don't it?... And I got that two per cent.... Do I hear any suggestions?"
Castle stood up and bowed. "I take off my hat to you, Baines.... I bid ten thousand."
"Eleven," choked McKettrick.
"This here road's goin' to be mighty profitable. Contract with the Seaboard folks makes it look like it would pay eighteen, twenty per cent on the investment, maybe more. And control—hain't that wuth a figger?"
"Fifteen," said Castle.
"Sixteen."
"Seventeen five hundred."
"That's enough," said Scattergood. "I got a leetle grudge ag'in' McKettrick for havin' bad manners, and for regardin' me as somethin' to pick and eat. It'll hurt him some to have you control this road, Castle, so you git it, at seventeen thousand five hunderd. I don't want to burn you, and I calc'late the figger you're payin' is clost to bein' fair. I'm satisfied. Write a check."
Castle drew out his check book, and in a moment passed the valuable slip across to Scattergood. "Thankee," said Baines, "and good day.... Another time, McKettrick, don't look sneerin' at white woolen socks."
He walked out of the room, followed by Johnnie Bones.
"Perty fair deal for a scissor bill," said Scattergood. "This last check, deductin' four thousand as cost of stock, gives me a profit of twelve thousand two hunderd and fifty for the day. Add that to eighteen thousand one hunderd and fifty on the strips of land, and nineteen thousand six hunderd on the stock I sold Castle first, and what do we git?"
"Even fifty thousand," said Johnnie.
"I always did cotton to round figgers," said Scattergood, comfortably. "Let's git us a meal of vittles."