On the veranda of the office, an hour later, he met Rickard, carrying his Gladstone.
“I’m off!” The American halted, poised, as if for the next step of a dance, so it appeared to Estrada. His eyes were glowing, as though a boy springing toward vacation.
“The Heading? Have you had word yet?”
“They’re still passing the buck to each other! But I’ll be there when it comes. You’ll see that Dragon scotched yet, Estrada!”
He carried the look of victory. But so also, had Tom Hardin! So once had the general! And the river still running to the sea!
CHAPTER XXIII
MORE ORATORY
FOUR men sat at a small table in a corner of the crowded hotel dining-room, in El Centro. Their names made their corner the psychological center of the room. Marshall was always a target of speculation. MacLean, straight and soldierly in his mustard-colored clothes, was, as usual, the man of distinction. Black started the whisper going that the dark stranger was General de la Vega, the Mexican commissioner.
What was he doing in that group? Babcock completed a combination which encouraged speculations and head-shakings. The room was jammed with valley men. The meeting of the ranchers and the several water companies had been called for that afternoon, the summons signed by Faraday himself. Nothing else had been talked of for a fortnight.
It was known throughout the valley that the work at the intake was not yet begun; that Rickard was waiting there for orders; that Faraday and the president of the United States were involved in correspondence as to the responsibility for the future control of the river. Faraday’s eagerness to shift his burden was looked upon as suspicious. It was in the air that the officers of the Overland Pacific would demand a recall of the damage suits before they would complete the protective works at the Heading. The men of long vision, members of the water companies, and Brandon, through the valley Star, were pointing out that the valley’s salvation depended on the immediate control of the river; that the railroad, only, had power to effect it. These conservatives were counseling caution. Only that morning, the Star had issued an extra, a special edition pleading for cooperation. “If the river breaks out again,” warned Brandon’s editorial, “without immediate force to restrain it, reclamation for that valley is a dream that is done. And the only force equal to that emergency is the railroad. Why deliberately antagonize the railroad? The Desert Reclamation Company, it is well known, is bankrupt. For the instant, the railroad has assumed the responsibilities of the smaller organization. Apply the same situation to individuals. Suppose a private citizen is in straits, and another comes forward to help him. Must every creditor assume that the Samaritan should pay the crushed citizen’s bills? In the present issue, self-interest should urge consideration. Better a small loss to-day that to-morrow may amply refund, than total ruin in the future.”
“Subsidized by the O. P.!” With the whisper ran a wink. The advice of all the conservatives was believed to be business policy. Black and others were inflaming public spirit. During the week that followed Faraday’s call, there had been meetings of the various water companies; incendiary excitement had demoralized the discussions. “The pledges of the Desert Reclamation should be kept.”