Pride had a good deal to do with keeping him true to his purpose. He could recall the day when the property he and Bushrod had inherited had constituted a great fortune, by far the greatest in Benson, but times were slowly changing, improvements in machinery and methods had closed the carding and fulling mill his father had built during his lifetime; the distillery, which they had sold to Tucker, no longer sent its produce by flat-boat down the Ohio and Mississippi to New Orleans. Shrewder men than he and his brother, had taken away their once profitable business as forwarding agents, and the great warerooms at the mill, which had once been piled high with barrels of flour awaiting shipment, were now all but empty. He felt that they were being slowly but surely elbowed into the background by strangers with greater capital or greater ability. This was a sore grief to both brothers, though it was, perhaps, not the loss of money they dreaded so much as the fancied loss of prestige.
While Stephen hoped that Rogers might live to enjoy the wealth he felt would be the fruit of their venture, he cast about him for some man who possessed a similar acquaintance with the West, if not with the gold-fields, and remembered his cousin Basil. This Basil Landray was the son of his father's younger brother, the late Colonel Rupert Landray, of the United States Army. Of Basil he knew little, except that he had been at one time a civilian hanger-on of the army at Detroit; Later he had known of him as an employee of the American Fur Company.
In the early fall he hazarded a letter to this cousin at Council Bluffs, telling him of the undertaking in which they were about to embark, and asking him if he would care to join their party in the spring, at Independence. After many months a reply came; an illy-written, illy-spelt letter, that rather shocked the recipient. From the letter he gathered that Basil was seeking just such an opportunity as that he had offered.
About this time young Jacob Benson had occasion to drive out to the farm to see Landray.
“Tell Mr. Landray I'm here, Sam,” he said to the farm-hand who had taken his horse, and was preparing to lead it away to the stable. “He's at the mill,” said Sam.
“Let him know I'm here, please,” and the lawyer made his way into the house, where he was shown into the library. Ten minutes later Stephen and his brother entered the room.
“I hope we haven't kept you waiting, Benson,” said the former. “I've seen Mr. Stark, and it's all right,” said the lawyer. “I promised you I'd let you know at once.”
“So he'll renew the note?” said Stephen, seating himself before his desk.
“You are both to see him at the bank to-morrow,” answered Benson. There was a brief pause, and then the lawyer asked:
“How's the California scheme coming on?”