Jules Verne - "Tour Du Mond 80 Jours"

John Greenleaf Whittier - "Tales and Sketches"

William Morris - "Signs of Change"

William Shakespeare - "As You Like It"

Out of the Primitive

R >> Robert Ames Bennet >> Out of the Primitive




"I'm Blake--engineer in charge--from Griffith!" he shouted. "Bridge
overloaded--will go down when wind rises. We've got to clear her. She
may go down when the empties back out. Any yellow cur that wants to
quit can call for his pay-check. I'm going out. Come on, boys!"

He started along the service-track at a quick jog-trot. The men,
without a single exception, followed him in a mass, jostling each
other for the lead. Near the outer end of the approach span they met
the morning shift of carpenters and laborers, who were hurrying
shoreward in response to the wild alarm of the engine whistle. Blake
waved them about.

"Bridge in danger!" he shouted. "Volunteers to clear material."

Few of the carpenters and none of the chattering Slovaks and Italians
caught anything except the word "danger." But zeal and fearlessness
are sometimes as contagious as fear. A half-dozen or so drew aside to
slink on shoreward. All the others joined the silent eager crowd
behind Blake. Before they had gone a hundred feet every man in the
crowd knew that at any moment the huge cantilever might crash down
with them to certain destruction in the chasm, yet not one turned
back.

A short distance beyond the cantilever towers they came to the
foremost of the on-shift steel workers, who had halted in their
shoreward run when they saw that the outcoming party showed no sign of
halting. But those in their rear and McGraw, who had been left behind
farthest of all in the race, were still moving forward.

Blake waved his pad to McGraw and called out to him over the heads of
the others: "Here's my order! I'm in charge. Take every man you can
handle, and work the main traveller to the towers. Hustle!"

"Your order!" wheezed McGraw stubbornly.

Blake was already close upon him. He had dealt before with men of
McGraw's character. He tore off Ashton's order, thrust it into the
other's pudgy hand, and paused to scribble an order to hold the train
on the shore span.

On occasion McGraw could be nimble both in mind and body. The moment
he had read Ashton's order, he wheeled about to rush back the way he
had come, and let out a bull-like bellow: "Hi, youse! clear f'r
trav'ller! Out-shift, follow me!"

The steel workers who had been on shift raced after and past him to
the main traveller. He followed at a surprisingly rapid pace,
bellowing his instructions. Blake, holding back in the lead of his far
larger party from the shore, began to issue terse orders to the gangs
of carpenters and laborers. They strung along the extension arm,
outward from the point where the floor-system was completed. Before
Blake could pass on ahead, tons of beams and stringers, iron fittings
and kegs of bolts and nails began to rain down into the abyss.

Having detailed half of the two shore shifts of steel workers to clear
the way for the inrolling of the huge traveller, Blake took the other
half out with him to the extreme end of the overhang. As soon as the
main traveller began its slow movement shoreward, he ordered the
smaller traveller run back several yards, in readiness to load the
heavier pieces of structural steel.

All his own men being now engaged in the most effectual manner, he
turned about to quiet McGraw, who, for once shaken out of his
phlegmatic calm, had been reduced to a state of apoplectic rage by the
inability of his men to perform miracles. Blake's cool manner and
terse directions almost redoubled the efficiency of the workers. The
main traveller began to creep toward the towers with relative
rapidity.

Blake walked ahead of it, to steady and encourage the gangs that
toiled and sweat in the frosty sweep of the rising wind. He came back
again to the overhang and stood for a few moments gazing across at the
outstretched tip of the north cantilever.

Suddenly his face lightened. He glanced over his shoulder at the lofty
towers behind him, nodded decisively, and hastened back to where
McGraw, once more his usual stolid taciturn self, was extracting every
ounce of working energy out of the men who swarmed about the main
traveller.

"Goin' some!" he grunted, as Blake tapped his arm.

"Stop her fifty feet this side towers," ordered Blake. "How many
central-span sections have you stacked up out here?"

"All 'cept four north-side 'uns. Last come this mornin'. In yards
yet."

"How long'll it take us to rig a cable tram from the traveller across
to the north 'lever?"

"Huh?" demanded McGraw blankly.

"We'll run the north-side steel across by tram, and push the work from
both ends. Once the central span's connected, this bridge'll stand up
under any load that can be piled on her."

"Wind risin'--an' you figurin' on construction work!" commented
McGraw.

"If she doesn't go to smash in the next half-hour, we'll be O.K.,"
answered Blake coolly. "That train has waited long enough. You look to
the steel. Load the first sections for this end on the outermost car.
We can cut it off the train at the towers."

At McGraw's nod, he scratched off an order and sent a man running with
it to the waiting train. Very shortly the three outermost cars came
rolling toward him, pushed by the switch crew and a gang of laborers.
Their weight was several times offset by the weight of flooring
material that had already been hurled from the bridge.

Blake tested the force of the wind, noted the distance that the main
traveller had moved shoreward, and promptly ordered the work of
destruction to cease. Some forty or fifty thousand dollars' worth of
material had already gone over into the strait, and he was too much of
an engineer to permit unnecessary waste.

The electro-magnetic crane of the smaller traveller was already
swinging up a number of pieces of structural steel to load on the cars
as they rolled out to the extreme end of the service-track. McGraw
came hurrying to take charge of the eager loading gang. Blake went out
past them to the end of the overhang, and perching himself on a pile
of steel, began to jot down figures and small diagrams on the back of
his pad.

He was still figuring when a cheer from the carloaders caused him to
look up. The cars, which had been stacked with steel to their utmost
capacity, were being connected with the rear of the train by means of
a wire rope. In response to the signals of McGraw, the engine started
slowly shoreward.

Before the train had moved many yards the slack of the steel rope was
taken up. It tautened and drew up almost to a straight line, so tense
that it sang like a violin string in the sharp wind gusts. Then the
steel-laden cars creaked, started, and rolled shoreward after the
train, groaning under their burden. The men all along the bridge
raised a wild cheer.

Blake stepped back beside McGraw.

"Well, Mac, guess we've turned the trick," he said.

"Close,--huh?" replied the general foreman, holding up his hand to the
wind.

"Close enough," agreed Blake. "She might have gone any minute since we
came out. _Whee!_--if I hadn't headed off that train of steel! Well, a
miss is as good as a mile. She'll stand now. Next thing is to connect
the span."

"Huh?" ejaculated McGraw. "Ain't goin' t' tackle that, Mr. Blake,
'fore reinforcin' bottom-chords?"

"What! Wait for auxiliary bracing to come on from the mills? Not on
your life! Once connected, she'll be unbreakable--all strains and
stresses will be so altered as to give a wide margin of safety, spite
of that damned skunk!"

"Huh?" queried McGraw.

Blake's lips tightened grimly, but he ignored the question.

"We'll drive the work on twelve-hour shifts,--double pay and best food
that can be bought. Divide up the force now, and turn in with your
shift--those who most need sleep."




CHAPTER XXXIV

"THE GUILTY FLEE"


In the midst of the wild flurry of work on the bridge, an engine from
the junction had puffed into the switching yards with a single coach,
the private car of H. V. Leslie.

Despite the shrill whistle that signalled its approach, no one ran out
to meet the special,--no workman appeared in the midst of the sheds
and material piles to stare at the unexpected arrival. Irritated at
this inattention, Mr. Leslie swung down from his car, closely followed
by Lord James.

"What can this mean?" he demanded. "Not a man in sight. Entire place
seems deserted."

"Quite true," agreed Lord James. "Ah, but out on the bridge--great
crowd of men working out there. Seems to be fairly swarming with men."

"So there are--so there are. Yet why so many out there, and none in
the yards?"

"Can't say, I'm sure. I daresay we'll learn at the office."

"Learn what, Mr. Scarbridge?" asked Dolores, who had popped out into
the car vestibule. Without waiting for an answer or for his
assistance, she sprang down the steps, waving her muff. "Come on,
Vievie. Don't wait for mamma."

"What are you going to do?" demanded Mr. Leslie.

"Hunt for our heroic hero, of course," answered the girl.

"You shall do no such thing," said her mother, appearing majestically
in the vestibule.

Genevieve, pale and calm and resolute, came out past her aunt.

"We shall go to Mr. Ashton's office, papa," she said, as Lord James
handed her down the steps. "If Mr. Blake is not there, Mr. Ashton will
know where to send for him."

"Tom's out on the bridge," stated Lord James.

"He is? How do you know?" queried Mr. Leslie.

"It's a hundred to one odds. That wire to Griffith--'On the job,' y'
know. He'll be where the most work is going on. I'll go fetch him."

"If you will, James," said Genevieve. "Tell him that papa--not I--You
understand."

"Trust me!" He smiled, glanced appealingly at Dolores, met a frown,
and started briskly away out the service-track.

"Wait," ordered Dolores. "I'll go, too. I've never been out on an
unfinished bridge."

"You'll not. You'll stay ashore," interposed her mother.

"Oh fudge! Trot along, then, Mr. Scarbridge."

At her call, Lord James had halted and turned about, eagerly
expectant. As, disappointed, he started on again, she addressed Mr.
Leslie: "I'm not going back into that stuffy car, Uncle Herbert.
Where's the place you call the office?"

He pointed to Ashton's quarters, and she skipped forward, past the
engine, before her mother could interfere. The others followed her,
wrapping their furs close about them to shut out the bitterly cold
wind.

Dolores was still in the lead when the party reached the office, but
she paused in the vestibule for her uncle to open the door. When he
entered, she stepped in after him, followed by Genevieve and Mrs.
Gantry. Darting his glances about the office in keen search, Mr.
Leslie crossed the room to stare concernedly at the litter of torn
maps and papers on the floor in front of the desk. He hurried to the
inner door and rapped vigorously. There was no immediate response. He
rapped again.

The door opened a few inches, and Ashton's English valet peered in at
the visitors with a timid, startled look.

"Well?" demanded Mr. Leslie. "What d' you mean, sir, gawking that way?
What's the matter here?--all these papers scattered about--everybody
out on the bridge. Who are you, anyway?"

"M-Mr. Ashton's m-man, sir!" stuttered the valet.

"His man? Where is he?--out on the bridge?"

"N-no, sir; in his rooms, sir."

"Tell him to come here at once!"

"Y-yes, sir, very good, sir. But I fear he'll be afraid to come out,
sir. Mr. Blake--he ordered 'im to stay in, sir."

"Blake ordered him! Why? Speak out, man! Why?"

"He--he said the bridge--that it was about to fall, sir."

"Bridge--about to fall?"

"Yes, sir. So he pulled Mr. Ashton across the desk by 'is neck--
manhandled 'im awful, and 'e told 'im--"

"What! What! Tell Ashton I'm here--Mr. Leslie! Tell him to come at
once--at once! D' you hear?"

As the valet vanished, Genevieve darted to her father, her eyes wide
with swift-mounting alarm. "Papa! Didn't you hear him? He said the
bridge--it's about to fall!"

"He did! He did!" cried Dolores, catching the alarm. "Oh, and Jimmy's
gone out, too!"

"'Jimmy'!" echoed Mrs. Gantry, staring.

The girl ran to the windows in the end of the room, which afforded a
full view of the gigantic bridge.

"Hurry! Hurry, papa! Do something!" cried Genevieve. "If the bridge
falls--!"

"Nonsense!" argued her father. "There can't be any danger. It's still
standing--and all those men remaining out on it. If there was any
danger--Must be some mistake of that fool valet."

"Then why are there no men ashore? Why are they all out there?"
questioned Genevieve with intuitive logic. "Oh! it's true--I know it's
true! He's in danger! And James--both! They're out there--it will
fall! He'll be killed! Send some one--tell them to come ashore! I'll
go myself!"

She started toward the door.

"No, no, let me!" cried Dolores, darting ahead of her.

"Stop!--both of you!" exclaimed Mrs. Gantry. "Are you mad?"

"Stop!" commanded Mr. Leslie.

Genevieve paused and stood hesitating before the vestibule door.
Dolores darted back to the windows.

A voice across the room called out: "That's--that's right! There's no
need to go. It's all a fake--a pretence!"

Staring about, Mr. Leslie and the ladies saw Ashton beside the inner
door. He was striving to assume an air of easy assurance, but the
doorknob, which he still grasped, rattled audibly.

"You!" rasped Mr. Leslie. "What you doing in here--skulking in here?"

Ashton cringed back, all the assurance stricken from his face.

"You--you believe him!" he stammered. "But it's not fair! You've heard
only his side--his lies about me!"

"Whose lies? Speak out!"

"His--Blake's! The big brute took me by surprise--half murdered me. He
came here, drunk or crazy, I don't know which. Pretended the bridge
was in danger."

"Pretended? Isn't it?"

"All rot! Not a bit of it!"

"What!"

"I tell you, it's all a put-up job--a frame-up. The brute thought he'd
get in with you again--you and Genevieve. He schemed to discredit me,
to get my place."

"Blake?--he did that?" eagerly queried Mrs. Gantry.

"Yes!" cried Ashton, and he turned again to Mr. Leslie. "Don't you
see? He guessed that you were coming up. So he sneaked here ahead of
you--took away my pistol and threatened to murder me if I left my
rooms."

Genevieve looked the glib relator up and down, white with scorn.

"You lie!" she said.

"But--but--I--" he stammered, disconcerted. He stepped toward her,
half desperate. "It's the truth, I tell you, the solemn truth! I'll
swear to it! It was there, right at my desk. You see the maps, torn
when he dragged me across--by the throat! Look here at my neck--at the
marks of his fingers!"

"You're in luck. He had good cause to break your neck," commented Mr.
Leslie.

"Herbert!" reproved Mrs. Gantry, greatly shocked.

"Papa! Papa!" urged Genevieve, running to grasp her father's arm. "You
can't believe him! If Tom said the bridge was in danger--We stand here
doing nothing! Send some one! If the bridge should fall--"

"Fall?" sneered Ashton. "I tell you it's safe, safe as a rock. Look
for yourselves. It's still standing."

"Then he has saved it," snapped Mr. Leslie. "He's saved my bridge--his
bridge! While you, you skulking thief--"

Ashton cringed back as if struck. But Genevieve dragged her father
about from him. "Don't mind him, papa! What does that matter now? Send
some one at once!"

"They're all out on the bridge already," he replied. "There's no one
to send. Wait! I'll go myself!"

"Oh! Oh! The train has started on shore again--it's coming clear off
the bridge!" cried Dolores. "It stopped part way, near this end.
They'll be on it, they'll surely be on it. Yes, yes! There he is!
There's Jimmy!"

She flung up a window-sash and leaned far out, waving her
handkerchief. Her mother turned to Genevieve, who stood as if dazed.

"My dear," she said, "do you not understand? Lord James is safe--quite
safe!"

"Yes?" replied Genevieve vaguely.

"And Blake!" exclaimed Mr. Leslie. "He'll of course be coming, too.
I'm going to meet him--learn the truth."

He cast a threatening glance at Ashton, and went out like a shot.

"Uncle Herbert, take me with you!" called Dolores, flying out after
him.

"Blake!--coming here!" gasped Ashton. He ran to place himself before
Genevieve, who was about to go out. "Wait, wait, Miss Genevieve,
please! Save me! He--he said he'd smash me if I talked--he did! He
did! Don't let him hurt me! He threatened to kill me--it's true--
true!"

"Threatened to kill you?" repeated Mrs. Gantry. "Genevieve, call back
your father. If the man really is violent, as Lafayette says--"

"Aunt Amice!" remonstrated Genevieve. "Can you believe this miserable
creature for an instant?"

"But it's true--it _is_ true!" gasped Ashton.

"Mrs. Gantry, dear, dear Mrs. Gantry, you'll believe me! He will kill
me! Take me aboard the car! Please, please take me aboard the car and
hide me!"

"My dear Genevieve," said Mrs. Gantry, "the poor boy is really
terrified."

"Take him to the car, if you wish," replied Genevieve. "He can leave
it at the junction."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, Miss Genevieve!" stammered Ashton.

But Genevieve went out without looking at him. He followed with Mrs.
Gantry, keeping close beside her.




CHAPTER XXXV

THE FUTURE COUNTESS


As the fugitive and his protectress passed out through the verandah
and turned away from the bridge toward the car, they were relieved to
see that Blake was not yet in sight. Genevieve was hastening out the
track to where her father and Dolores and Lord James stood beside the
heavily loaded bridge-service train.

Before Genevieve could reach the others, Lord James and Dolores came
toward her, and Dolores cried out the joyful news: "It's safe,
Vievie!--the bridge is safe now! Mr. Blake will be ashore in a few
minutes."

"You're sure, James?" asked Genevieve. "Quite safe?--and he--?"

"Yes, yes, give you my word! Perfectly safe now, he said, and he'll be
coming soon. Er--Miss Dolores, there's your mother going back to the
car."

"And Laffi with her!"

"Quite true--quite true. I say now--you've left your muff in the
office. You'll be chilled--nipping keen wind, this. We'd best go
inside while we're waiting."

"Yes," agreed the girl. "Come back in, Vievie."

"No, no, dear. I'll come later. I'll wait here with papa."

"Ah, if you prefer," murmured Lord James. "But you, Miss Dolores--
really you should not stand out in this wind."

"Oh, well, if you insist," she acquiesced, with seeming reluctance.

"I do, indeed!" he replied, and he hurried her to the office.

When they entered, he led her to the big drum heating stove in the
corner of the room, and went across to the inner door. He opened it,
and called a terse order to Ashton's valet. He then closed the door
and locked it.

Dolores started to edge toward the outer door. But he was too quick
for her. He hastened across and cut off her retreat.

"No, no!" he declared. "You sha'n't run away."

"Run away?" she rejoined, drawing herself up with a strong show of
indignation.

"It's--it's the very first opportunity I've had--the first time alone
with you all these days," he answered. "I must insist! I--I beg your
pardon, but I must find out, really I must! It seemed to me that--that
just now you waved to me, from the window."

"To you? But how could I tell, so far off, that Mr. Blake was not on
the train?"

"So that was it?" he replied, suddenly dashed. "Very stupid of me--
very! Yet--yet--I must say it! Miss Gantry--Dolores, you've insisted
on showing me your deepened dislike even since that evening. But
you're so sincere, so candid--if only you'll tell me my faults, I'll
do anything I possibly can to please you, to win your regard!"

"Ho! so that's it?" she jeered. "Because Vievie threw you over, you
think I'll do as second choice--you think I'm waiting to catch you on
the rebound."

"You?" he exclaimed. "How could that be? You've always been so frank
in showing your dislike for me--how could I think that? But if only I
might convince you how desirous I am to--to overcome your antipathy!"

"Lord Avondale," she said, "it is probable that you are laboring under
a misconception. I am not an heiress; I am not wealthy. We are barely
well-to-do. So, you see--"

"Ah, yes! And you--" he exclaimed, stepping nearer to her--"you, then,
shall see that it is yourself alone! If I can but win you! Tell me,
now--why is it you dislike me? I'll do anything in my power. Forget
I'm my father's son--that I'm English. I must win you! Tell me how I
can overcome your dislike!"

Dolores drew back, blushing first scarlet then crimson with blissful
confusion. All her ready wit fled from her and left her quivering with
the sweet agitation of her love.

"But it's--it's not true, Jimmy!" she whispered. "I don't--I'm not
what you think me! I'm not sincere or honest--I'm just a liar! I've
been pretending all along. It's not true that I ever disliked you!"

"Not true?" he asked incredulously.

She gave him a glance that answered him far more clearly than words.
He started toward her impulsively.

"Dolores!--it can't be!"

She avoided him, in an attempt to delay the inevitable surrender.

"Ware danger, your earlship!" she mocked. "I warn you I'm a designing
female. How do you know it's not the coronet I'm after?"

"Dearest!" he exclaimed, and this time he succeeded in capturing the
hand that she flung out to fend him off.

"Wait--wait!" she protested. "This is most--ah--indecorous. Think how
shocked mamma would be. You haven't even declared your intentions."

"My intentions," he stated, "are to do--this!" He boldly placed his
arm about her shoulders, and bent down over her back-tilted head.
"_My_ dear Miss Gantry, I have the honor of saluting--the future
Countess of Avondale!"

Instead of shrinking--from him, as he half feared, she slipped an arm
up about his neck.

With a blissful sigh, she drew back from the kiss, to answer him in a
tone of tender mockery: "The Right Honorable the Earl of Avondale is
informed that his--ah--salute is received with pleasure."

"Darling!"

"Wait," she teased. "You have it all turned 'round. You've yet to tell
me the exact moment when. Vievie took second place."

"My word! How am I to answer that? Really, it's quite impossible to
tell. You piqued my interest from the very first."

"But did you still lo--like Vievie when you proposed to her?"

"Er--yes--quite true. That was the day after our arrival from New
York, y'know."

"Of course. But I wished to make doubly sure that you were sincere
with her. Oh, Jimmy, to think I've got you, after all! I'm so happy!"

He promptly offered another salute, which was not refused.

The sound of quick steps in the vestibule startled them. Dolores
sprang away as Genevieve came hurrying in, too agitated to heed her
cousin's blushes.

"Oh! I'm so glad you're still here!" she panted. "He's coming ashore.
I--I told papa to tell him that--but not that I'm here! I must--I want
to--"

"To play puss-in-the-corner with your Tom," rallied Dolores. "Oh,
Vievie! who'd have thought it? You've lost your head! Hide over here
behind the stove."

Greatly to her surprise, Genevieve instantly ran over and hid herself
in the corner behind the big stove. Dolores and Lord James stared at
one another. It was the first time that they had ever seen Genevieve
flurried.

"Why, Vievie!" exclaimed the girl, "I actually believe you're
frightened."

"No, I'm not. It's only that I must have time to--to think."

"Ah," said Lord James, with sympathetic readiness.

"I shall go out and meet him--detain him a bit."

"No, no. It's very kind of you, James. But there's no need. If only
you and Dolores will wait and speak with him. I--I wish to hear how
his voice sounds--first."

"Well, of all things!" rallied Dolores. "Can't you imagine how it will
sound? He'll be hoarse as a crow, after shouting all his heroic orders
to save the bridge. Ten to one, he'll have a fine cold, too--out there
in this wind. Jimmy says it's really nawsty, y'know, with the beastly
zephyrs wafting through the bloomin' steel-work, and the water so
deuced far down below--quite a bit awful, don't y'know!"

"Don't tease, dear," begged Genevieve. "But you said 'Jimmy'! Oh, have
you really--?"

Her face appeared around the bulge of the stove, flushed with delight.
But the sound of a heavy tread in the verandah caused it to disappear
on the instant.

Blake came in slowly and with anything but an elated look. It was
evident that Mr. Leslie had refrained from rousing his expectations.
He stared at Dolores in surprise.

"You, Miss Dolores?"

"What?" she teased. "You surely did not think it would be Vievie, did
you?"

"Didn't think--"

"Yes--with Jimmy." She held out her hand to Lord James, who clasped it
fondly.

Blake caught the glance that passed between them. His face darkened.

"Her?" he muttered. "Didn't think you were the kind to play fast and
loose, Jimmy!"

"Tom! You can't believe that of me!" protested the Englishman.
"Couldn't explain matters out there among all your men, y' know, but
Genevieve insisted upon terminating our engagement the very morning
after. I had said nothing. She had already seen her mistake."

"Mistake?" queried Blake.

"You men are so silly," criticised Dolores, with a mischievous glance
toward the stove. "You ought to 've known she loved you, all the time.
Of course you won't believe it till she herself tells you."

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