Part 14 (2/2)

”Ah, don't get so tragic about it. Some day when Gabe has calmed down, and wants a renomination, I'll take him in the back room and show him the error that we've both made, and we'll just quietly put back the money and give him the laugh.” There was a pause, and Barclay tilted his chair back and grinned. ”It's all right, Bob--we were where we had to do it; the books balance to a 'T' now--and we'll square it with Gabe sometime.”

”But if we can't--if Gabe won't be--be--well, be reasonable? What then?” asked Hendricks.

”Oh, well,” returned John, ”I've thought of that too. And you'll find that when, the county treasury changes hands in '79, you'll have to look after the bond account and the treasurer's books and make a little entry to satisfy the bonds when they really fall due; then--I'll show you about it when we're over at the court-house. But if we can't get the money back with Gabe or the next man, the time will come when we can.”

And Bob Hendricks looked at the natty little man before him and sighed, and began working for the Larger Good also. And afterwards as the months flew by the Golden Belt Wheat Company paid the interest on the forged note, and the bank paid the Golden Belt Wheat Company interest on a daily ledger balance of nine thousand, and all went happily. The Larger Good accepted the sacrifices of truth, and went on its felicitous way.

After Barclay left the bank that night, Hendricks found still more of the truth. And the devil in the background of his soul came out and glared through the young man's sleepless eyes as he appeared in Barclay's office in the morning and said, before he had found a chair, ”John, what's your idea about those farmers' mortgages? Are you going to let them pay them, or are you going to make them sell under that option that you've got in them?”

”Why,” asked Barclay, ”what's it to us? Haven't the courts decided that that kind of an option is a sale--clear through to the United States Supreme Court?”

”Well, what are you going to do about it?” persisted Hendricks.

Barclay squinted sidewise at his partner for a few seconds and said, ”Well, it's no affair of ours; we've sold all the mortgages anyway.”

Hendricks wagged his head impatiently and exclaimed, ”Quit your dodging and give me a square answer--what have you got up your sleeve about those options?”

Barclay rose, limped to the window, and looked out as he answered: ”Well, I've always supposed we'd fix it up some way to buy back those mortgages and then take the land we want for ourselves--for you and me personally--and give the poor land back to the farmers if they pay the money we lent them.”

”Well,” returned Hendricks, ”just count me out on that. Whatever I make in this deal, and you seem to think our share will be plenty, goes to getting those farmers back their land. So far as I'm concerned that money we paid them was rent, not a loan!”

Barclay dropped his hands in astonishment and gaped at Hendricks.

”Well, my dear Miss Nancy,” he exclaimed, ”when did you get religion?”

The two men glared at each other a moment, and Hendricks grappled his devil and drew a long breath and replied: ”Well, you heard what I said.” And then he added: ”I'm pretty keen for money, John, but when it comes to skinning a lot of neighbours out of land that you and every one says is going to raise thirty dollars' worth of wheat to the acre this year alone, and only paying them ten dollars an acre for the t.i.tle to the land itself--” He did not finish. After a pause he added: ”Why, they'll mob you, man. I've got to live with those farmers.” Barclay sneered at Hendricks without speaking and Hendricks stepped over to him and drew back his open hand as he said angrily, ”Stop it--stop it, I say.” Then he exclaimed: ”I'm not what you'd call nasty nice, John--but I'm no robber. I can't take the rent of that land for nothing, raise a thirty-dollar crop on every acre of it, and make them pay me ten dollars an acre to get back the poor land and steal the good land, on a hocus-pocus option.”

”'I do not use the nasty weed, said little Robert Reed,'” replied Barclay, with a leer on his face. Then, he added: ”I've held your miserable little note-shaving shop up by main strength for a year, by main strength and awkwardness, and now you come home with your mouth all fixed for prisms and prunes, and want to get on a higher plane.

You try that,” continued Barclay, and his eyes blazed at Hendricks, ”and you'll come down town some morning minus a bank.”

Then the devil in Bob Hendricks was freed for an exultant moment, as his hands came out of his pockets and clamped down on Barclay's shoulders, and shook him till his teeth rattled.

”Not with me, John, not with me,” he cried, and he felt his fingers clutching for the thin neck so near them, and then suddenly his hands went back to his pockets. ”Now, another thing--you got Brownwell to lend the colonel that money?” Hendricks was himself.

Barclay nodded.

”And you got Brownwell to sign a lot of accommodation paper there at the bank?”

”Yes--to cover our own overdrafts,” retorted Barclay. ”It was either that or bust--and I preferred not to bust. What's more, if we had gone under there at one stage of the game when Brownwell helped us, we could have been indicted for obtaining money under false pretences--you and I, I mean. I'm perfectly willing to stick my head inside the jail and look around,” Barclay grinned, ”but I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'm going clear inside for any man--not when I can find a way to back out.” Barclay tried to laugh, but Hendricks would not let him.

”And so you put up Molly to bail you out.” Barclay did not answer and Hendricks went on bitterly: ”Oh, you're a friend, John Barclay, you're a loyal friend. You've sold me out like a dog, John--like a dog!”

Barclay, sitting at his desk, playing with a paper-weight, snarled back: ”Why don't you get in the market yourself, if you think I've sold you out? Why don't you lend the old man some money?”

”And take it from the bank you've just got done robbing of everything but the wall-paper?” Hendricks retorted.

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