Part 40 (1/2)

”To-morrow morning. I see by the paper that my man is there.”

”Plague take your man and your woman too. Why can't you stay here and behave yourself? I do hate mightily to see you go. Why don't you say you hate to go?”

”Because I don't. I have worked in order to be able to go.”

”What do you want to see the man for? You never have told me anythin'

about yourself, and here you are, goin' away. What do you want with him?”

”Want to tell him I'm well, and ask him how's all.”

”Oh, you'll do. Fainted at the grave,” she said, after a moment's silence. ”Yes, I know all about such faintin'. They can't fool me, Bill.

It's been tried too often. Fainted at the thought of gettin' that ten thousand dollars, and I wish to the Lord I had half of it. I'd faint too; yes, you bet!”

Early the next morning he bade the old woman good-bye. She scolded him, with tears in her eyes, wheeled about, and left him standing at the gate. At the station the milkmen gathered about him to shake hands. They were sorry to lose him. In trade some of them had been nipped by him, but that only proved his worth as a citizen. He waved them a farewell, and Rollins became a memory.

Upon reaching the city, he went straightway to the Norwegian's cottage.

There was a romping of children within, and it was some time before he made himself heard. But finally a woman came to the door. He asked for Gunhild, and was told that she had gone over to see Mrs. Goodwin, but would not long be absent. He stood for a moment with his hand on the door. ”When she comes back,” he said, ”tell her that a Yankee from the West has called. She will understand. Tell her that he will be back soon.”

Jim Mills, railway monarch of the West, sat in his room at a hotel.

Strong, an engine of industry, he could do the work of three men. He had heard the hum of a mult.i.tude of enemies; he had climbed in slippery places, sliding back, falling, getting up, struggling onward to stand on the top of the mountain. Without a change of countenance he had swallowed the decree of many a defeat. In playful tones he had announced to his a.s.sociate the news of many a victory. He was a reader of old books and of young men. His word could build or kill a city. Legislators traveled with his name in their pockets. Men who cursed him in private were proud to be seen with him in public. He could clap an enemy on the shoulder and laugh enmity out of him, but failing, would fight him to an end that was not sweet. A commercial viking, he was ever thrusting himself into unexplored territory, a great commander with his scouts snorting on iron across the plains. He was a generous host and a captivating companion, but it was said that with all his apparent heartiness, he never forgave an injury. This, however, was spoken by his enemies, men whose ”real estate” had been slaughtered by him.

Mills was busy in his room at the hotel, for neither at home nor abroad had he an aimless moment. His dozing on a train involved millions. A card, bearing a name in pencil, was handed to him.

”I don't know him,” he said, glancing at the name.

”He says he must see you on most important business.”

”What sort of looking man is he? I can't recall his name.”

”Nice enough looking--hard worker, I should think.”

”Tell him to come in.”

Milford stepped into the room, looked at Mills and then at the secretary who stood near. ”I should like to see you alone,” he said.

Mills glanced at the secretary. The man vanished.

”Well, sir,” said Mills, ”what can I do for you? Sit down.”

Milford sat down, a table between them.

”I wish to tell you of something that happened about five years ago.”

”Well, go ahead. But I'm busy.”

”I saw by the newspapers that you had arrived in town--you'll have to let me get at it in my own way.”