Jasper County Democrat, Volume 9, Number 37, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 December 1906 — The Manager Of the B. @ A. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Manager Of the B. @ A.

By VAUGHAN KESTER

SYNOPSIS OK PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. I—Dun Oakley, Manager of the Buckhorn and Antioch railroad (known as the “Huckle* berry”), receives two letters, one telling him that his convict father, Roger Oakley, has been pardoned, and the other that General Cornish, the owner of the B. Jit A., la about to visit Antioch. ll—Oakley visit' Dr. Emory and meets Constance Emory. Other visitors are Griff Ryder, owner of the Antioch Herald, and Turner Joice, the local artist. Ill —Oakley tells General Cornish that in order to keep the car shops running a cut In wages Is necessary. IV'--Oakley tells Holt, his assistant treasurer,of the proposed cuts. V—Roger Oakley appears in Antioch. He is a worthy old man, who killed an enemv In self defence and was unjustly convicted of murder. VI Roger Oaklev goes to work in the car shops. Griff Ryder tries to induce Dan to keep a friend at work. Oakley refuses. Vll—Oakley and Ryder are rivals for Constance Emory's favor. Vlll—Through Kenyon, candidate for congress, whose cousin is warden of the Srison in which Roger Oakley was confined, yder learns the old man's history. IX—Oakley cuts wages in the car shops. He Is attacked by the Herald. X—Oakley's office boy learns from the son of one of tne men that the men are planning a strike and that Ryder is spreading the tale that Roarer Oakley is a criminal. XI-The men in the car shops refuse to work with Roger Oakley. Branyon, their leader, is discharged. Oakley tells Dr. Emory that he will stay In Antioch and face the situation. Xlll—Oakley has a final Interview with Constance. XIV and XV—The Car shop men go on strike. XVI and XVll—Roger Oakley visits Ryder to try to induce him to cease his attacks on Dan. In a strugglethe editor is killed a -cidently. The body Is found and the slayer’s identity discovered. The old man fiees. XVIII-The sheriff arrests for the murder a man who is afterwards released, XIX-Koger OaklCy is forced by forest fires to take refuge at Buckhoru. He meets Dan there.

CHAPTER XX. DAN OAKLEY went tfi Chicago, intending to see Holloway and resign, but he found that the Huckleberry's vice president was In New York ou business, and no one In his office seemed to know when he would return, so he sat down and wrote a letter telling hlui of the condition of affairs at Antioch and explaining the utter futility, In view of what had happened, of his trying to coi>e with the situation. He waited live days for a reply and, none coining, wired to learn If his letter had been received. This produced results. Holloway wired back that he had the letter under consideration and requested Oakley to remain in Chicago until he returned, but he did not say whether or not his resignation would be accepted. Since there was nothing to be done hut await Holloway’s pleasure In (lie matter Dan employed his enforced leisure in looking nhout for another position. He desired a connection which would take him out of the country, for the farther away from Antioch and Constance Emory he could get tile better he would be satisfied. He fancied he would like to go to South America. He was willing to accept almost any kind of a post—salary was no longer a consideration with lilm. What he required was a radical change, with plenty of hard work. By far his greatest anxiety was his father. He watched tho’papers closely. expecting each day to read that ha had been captured aud sent back to Antioch, hut the days slipped past, and there was no mention of him. Holt, with whom he was in constant correspondence, reported that interest In his capture had considerably abated, while the organized pursuit had entirely ceased.

l»nn had the feeling that he should never see him again, aud the pathos of his age and dependence tore his heart. In a manner, too, he blamed himself for the tragedy. It might have been averted had lie said less about Ryder In his father’s hearing. He should have known better than to discuss the strike with him. Oue morning as he left Holloway’s office he chanced to meet an acquaintance by the name of Curtice. They had been together in Denver years before, and he had known him as a rather talkative young fellow, with large hopes aud a thrifty eye ts the main chance. Rut he wus the one man he would have preferred to meet, for he had been in South America and knew the field there. Apparently Curtice was equally glad to see him. He insisted upon carrying him off to his club for lunch, where it developed he was In a state of happy enthusiasm over Ills connection with a road which had Just goue Into the hands of a receiver, and a new bnby, which lie assured Oakley on the spur of the moment he was going to name after him. “Y'ou see, Oakley," he explained as they settled themselves, “1 was married after you left to a girl who had come to Denver with a consumptive brother. They boarded at the same place I did.” His companion wns properly Interested. "Look here, how long are you going to be In the city? I want you to come und see us.” Dan avoided committing himself by saying his stny In Chicago was most uncertain, lie might have to leave very soon. “Well, then, yon must drop In at my, office. I wish you'd make It your headquarters while yon are here.” “What about the road yon are with?" “Oh, the road? We are putting It in shape." Oakley smiled a trifle skeptically. He recalled that even as a very young man, filling a very subordinate position, Curtice had clung to the “we.” Curtice saw the smile and remembered too. “Now, see here; I’m giving it to yon straight I really am the whole thing. I’ve got a greenhorn for a boss, whose ignorance 'of the bualneas Is only •gutkd Iv JUfl confidence In me. It

you wanf"fo~be nasty you can say his ignorance is responsible for much of his confidence. I’ve been told that before.” “Then I’ll wait. I may be able to think of something better.” “There are times when I wonder If he really knows the difference between an engine’s headlight and a coupling pin. He’s giving me all the rope I want, and we’ll have a great passenger service when I get done. That’s what I am working on now." “But where are you going to get the funds for It? A good service costs money," said Dan. “Oh, the road’s always made money. That was the trouble.” Oakley looked dense. He had beard of such things, but they bad been outside of bis own experience. “The directors were a superstitious lot. They didn’t believe In paying dividends, and as they bad to get rid of the money somehow they put It all out la salaries. The president’s Idea of the value of his own services would have been exorbitant If the road had been operating 5,000 miles of track Instead of 500. I am told a directors’ meeting looked like a family reunion, and they had a most ungodly lot of nephews—nephews were everywhere. The purchasing agent was a nephew, so were two of the division superintendents. Why, the president even had a third dousln of his wife’s braking on a way freight. We’ve kept him as a sort of curiosity and because he was the only one In the bunch who was earning his piiy.’’ “No wonder the stockholders went to law,” said Oakley, laughing. “Of course when the road was taken Into court Its affairs -were seen to Ixi In such rotten shape that a receiver was appointed." Oakley’s business Instinct asserted itself. He had forgotten for the time being that his services still belonged to Cornish. Now he said, "See here, haven't you ears you intend to rebuild?’’

“We’ve precious few that don’t need carpenter work or paint or upholstering.” ‘‘Then send them to me at Antioch. I’ll make you u price you can’t got inside of, 1 don’t care where you go.” Curtice meditated, then he asked: “How are you fixed to handle a big contract. It’ll he mostly for paint and upholstery or woodwork. We have been considering equipping works of our own, but I am afraid they are not going to materialize.” “We can handle anything,” and, from sheer force of habit, he was all enthusiasm. lie had pleasant visions of the shops running overtime and everybody satisfied and happy. It made no difference to him that he would not be there to share In tlie general prosjierity. With the start he had given It, the future of the Huckleberry would be assured. lie decided he had better say nothing to Curtice about South America. The upshot of this meeting wns that he stuck to Curtice with a genial devotion that made him wax In his hands. They spent two days together Inspecting pointless and tattered day coaches, and on the third (lay Dan strolled from his friend’s office buttoning his coat on a contract that would mean many thousands of dollars for Antioch. It was altogether his most brilliant achievement. He felt that there only remained for him to turn the Huckleberry over to Holloway and leave tlie country. lie had done well by it. Dan had been In Chicago about three weeks, when at last Holloway returned, and he proved as limp as Cornish had said he would be in a crisis. He was inclined to bo critical, too, and seemed astonished that Oakley had been waiting In Chicago to see him. He experienced a convenient lapse of memory when the lutter mentioned his telegraip. “I can’t accept your resignation,” he Ruid, fussing nervously among the papers on Ills desk. “I didn’t put you at Antioch. That was General Cornish’s own idea, and I don’t know what he’ll think.” “It has got past the point where 1 care what he thinks,” retorted Dan curtly. “You must send some ono else there to take hold.” “Why didn’t you cable him instead of writing me?” fretfully. “I don’t know what he will want, ouly It’s pretty certain to tie the very thing I shan’t think of.” “I would have cabled him if I had considered It neeessury, but it never occurred to me that my resignation would not he ugreed to on the spot, as my presence iu Antioch only widens the breach and Increases the difficulty of a settlement with the men.” ‘"sVliom did you leave in charge?” Inquired Holloway. “Holt.” “Who's he?” ‘‘He's Kerr’s assistant,” Dan explained. “Why didn’t you leave Kerr In charge?” demanded the vice president. “I laid him off,” said Dan In a tone of exasperation, and then he added, to forestall more questions: “He was In sympathy with the men, and he hadn’t tlie sense to keep It to himself. I couldn’t be bothered with him, so I got rid of him.”

'“Well, T most say you have made a frightful mess of the whole business, Oakley, but I told General Cornish from the first that you hadn’t the training for the position.” v Dan turned very red In the face at this, but be let It pass. “It’s too bad,” murmured Holloway, still fingering the letters on the desk. “Since you are In doubt, wby don’t you cable General Cornish for Instructions, or, if there is a reason wby you don’t care to, it Is not too late for me 4 to cable," said Dan. This proposal did not please Holloway at all, but he was unwilling to admit that he feared Cornish’s displeasure, which, where he was concerned, usually took the form of present silence and a subsequent sarcasm that dealt with the faulty quality of his Judgment. The sarcasm might come six months after it had been Inspired, but It was certain to come sooner or later and to be followed by a bad half hour, which Cornish devoted to past mistakes. Indeed, Cornish’s attitude toward him had become through long association one of chronic criticism, and he was certain to be unpleasantly affected both by what he did and’by what he left undone. “Why don’t you wait until the general returns from England? That's not

far off now. Under the circumstances he'll accept your resiguation.” “He will have to,” said Oakley briefly. “Don’t worry. He’ll probably demand it,” remarked the vice president disagreeably. “If you are so sure of this, why don’t you accept it?” retorted Dan. “1 have no one to appoint In your place.” “What’s wrong with Holt? He’ll do temporarily.” “I couldn’t feel positive of his being satisfactory to General Cornish. He’s a very young man, ain’t he?” “Yes. I suppose you’d call him a young man, but he lias been with the road for a long time and has a pretty level head. I have found him very trustworthy.” , “I would have much greater confidence In Kerr. He’s quiet and conservative, and lie’s had an excellent training with us.” “Well, then, you can get him. He Is doing nothing and will be glad to come.” “But you have probably succeeded In antagonizing him.” “I hope so,” with sudden cheerfulness. “It was a hardship not to be able to give hlin a sound thrashing. That’s what he deserved.” Holloway looked shocked. The young man was displaying a recklessness of temper which wns most unseemly and entirely unexpected. “1 guess It will be well for you to think It over, Oakley, before you conclude to break with General Cornish. To go now will be rather shabby of you, and you owe him fair treatment Just remember it was those reforms of yours that started the strike, in the first place. I know—l know. What you did you did with his approval. The men nro peaceable enough, ain’t they?” and he glared at Oakley with mingled disfavor and weariness. “Anybody can handle them but me.” “It won’t be long until they are begging you to open the shops. They will be mighty sick of the trouble they’ve shouldered when their money Is all goue.” “They will never come to me for that, Mr. Holloway,” said Dan. “I thiuk they would, one and all, rather starve than recognize my position.” “They’ll have to. We’ll make them. We mustn’t let them think we are weakening." “You don’t appreciate the feeling of intense hostility they have for me." "Of course tlie murder of that man—what was his name?” “Ryder, you mean?” “Was unfortunate. I don’t wonder you have some feeling about going back.” Dan smiled sadly. The vice president was wonderfully moderate In his choice of words. He added: “But it Is really best for the Interest of those concerned that you should go and do what you can to bring about a settlement” “It would be the sheerest Idiocy for me to attempt It The town may go hungry from now to the end of Its days, but It won’t have me at any price.” “I always told Cornish he should sell the road the first opportunity he got He had the chance once and you talked.

lilm out of It TQTow you donT waaf so stand by the situation-" “I do,” said Oakley, rising. “I want to see an understanding reached w*b the men, and I am going to do what I can to help along. You will please to consider that I have resigned. I don’t for the life of me see how you can expect me to show my face la Antioch.". And with that he stalked from the place. He was thoroughly angry. He heard Holloway call after him: “I won’t accept your resignation. You’ll have to wait until you -see Cornish!” Dan strode out into the street, not knowing what he would do. He was disheartened and exasperated at the stand Holloway had taken. Presently his anger moderated and his pace slackened. He had been quite oblivious to wbat was passing about him, and now for the first time, above the rattle of darts and trucks, he heard the newsboys shrilly calling an extra. He caught the words, “All about the big forest fire!” repeated over and over again. He bought a paper and opened It Idly, but a double leaded headline arrested his attention. It was a brief special from Buokhorn Junction. He read It with feverish Interest. Antioch was threatened with complete destruction by the forest fires, which for several weeks had been raging in the northern part of the state. All traffic was suspended, and the exact condition could only be guessed at, but there had been repeated calls for help. The neighboring towns had responded to these appeals by sending fire engines and hose, which were still waiting at Buckhorn Junction to go through. Oakley knew that the long drought had so diminished the available water supply that In an emergency of this kind Antioch must depend on the river. The town derived Its regular water supply from a- standpipe fed from a small reservoir. In ordinary seasons and under ordinary circumstances the force was sufficient to meet all needs, but on an occasion such as the present the equipment of the local fire department, consisting of two heme carts and a single old fashioned hand engine, would be quite useless. Oakley’s hands shook as they clutched the paper. He forgot his own troubles;, all in an instant he was alive to the danger that threatened Constance. She w r as a prisoner in the menaced town, in the very fenter of an impending tragedy. The thought of her possible peril sent the blood surging away from his hdart. Ten minutes later Dan again presented himself to Holloway. His face had lost its former look of dogged determination. It had become keen and pinched with a sudden anxiety. "It’s all right, Mr. Holloway!” he cried as he entered the office. “You needn’t bother about my resignation. I’ll take the first train for Antioch. Have you seen this?” and he held out the crumpled page he had just torn from his newspaper. Holloway glanced up in astonishment at this unlooked for change of heart. “I thought you’d conclude it was no way to treat General Cornish.” he said. “Hang Cornish! It’s not on his account I’m going. The town is in a fair way to be wiped off the map. Here, read.” And he thrust the paper into Holloway’s hands. “The woods to the north and west of Antioch have been blazing for two days. They have sent out call after call for help, and apparently nobody has responded yet. That’s why I am going back, and for no othfer reason.” • [TO BE CONTINUED]

"I can’t accept your resignation."