Part 9 (2/2)
But the gorge of Elliot rose. The man, after all, was a law-breaker, a menace to civilization. He was a survivor by reason of his strength from the primitive wolf-pack. Already the special agent had heard many strange stories of how this man of steel had risen to supremacy by trampling down lesser men with whom he had had dealings, of terrible battles from which his lean, powerful body had emerged b.l.o.o.d.y and battered, but victorious. The very look of his hard, gray eyes was dominant and masterful. He would win, no matter how. It came to Gordon's rebel heart that if Macdonald wanted this lovely Irish girl,--and the young man never doubted that the Scotchman would want her,--he would reach out and gather in Sheba just as if she were a coal mine or a placer prospect.
All this surged through the mind of the young man while the singer was on the first line of the second stanza.
”But if 't was only Sheve Cross to climb from foot to crown, I'd soon be up an' over that, I'd soon be runnin' down.
Then sure the great ould sea itself is there beyont the bar, An' all the windy wathers are between us, so they are.
Och anee!”
The rich, soft, young voice with its Irish brogue died away. The little audience paid the singer the tribute of silence. She herself was the first to speak.
”'Divided' is the name of it. A namesake of mine, Moira O'Neill, wrote it,” she explained.
”It's a beautiful song, and I thank ye for singing it,” Macdonald said simply. ”It minds me of my own barefoot days by the Tay.”
Later in the evening the two dinner guests walked back to the hotel together. The two subjects uppermost in the minds of both were not mentioned by either. They discussed casually the cost of living in the North, the raising of strawberries at Kusiak, and the best way to treat the mosquito nuisance, but neither of them referred to the Macdonald coal claims or to Sheba O'Neill.
CHAPTER VII
WALLY GETS ORDERS
Macdonald, from his desk, looked up at the man in the doorway. Selfridge had come in jauntily, a cigar in his mouth, but at sight of the grim face of his chief the grin fled.
”Come in and shut the door,” ordered the Scotchman. ”I sent for you to congratulate you, Wally. You did fine work outside. You told me, didn't you, that it was all settled at last--that our claims are clear-listed for patent?”
The tubby little man felt the edge of irony in the quiet voice. ”Sure.
That's what Winton told me,” he a.s.sented nervously.
”Then you'll be interested to know that a special field agent of the Land Department sat opposite me last night and without batting an eye came across with the glad news that he was here to investigate our claims.”
Selfridge bounced up like a rubber ball from the chair into which he had just settled. ”What!”
”Pleasant surprise, isn't it? I've been wondering what you were doing outside. Of course I know you had to take in the shows and cabarets of New York. But couldn't you edge in an hour or two once a week to attend to business?”
Wally's collar began to choke him. The cool, hard words of the big Scotchman pelted like hail.
”Must be a bluff, Mac. The muckrake magazines have raised such a row about the Guttenchild crowd putting over a big steal on the public that the party leaders are scared stiff. I couldn't pick up a newspaper anywhere without seeing your name in the headlines. It was fierce.”
Selfridge had found his glib tongue and was off.
”I understand that, Wally. What I don't get is how you came to let them slip this over on you without even a guess that it was going to happen.”
That phase of the subject Selfridge did not want to discuss.
”Bet you a hat I've guessed it right--just a grand-stand play of the Administration to fool the dear people. This fellow has got his orders to give us a clean bill of health. Sure. That must be it. I suppose it's this man Elliot that came up on the boat with us.”
”Yes.”
”Well, that's easy. If he hasn't been seen we can see him.”
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