The scene was mildly theatrical; unintentionally so, so far as Zephyr was concerned, designedly so on the part of Bennie, who longed to push it to a most thrilling climax. It was not pleasant to Firmstone; but the cause was none of his creating, he was of no mind to interfere with the event. He was only human after all, and that it annoyed and irritated Hartwell afforded him a modic.u.m of legitimate solace. Besides, Zephyr and Bennie were his stanch friends; the recovery of the safe and the putting it in evidence at the most effective moment was their work. The manner of bringing it into play, though distasteful to him, suited their ideas of propriety, and Firmstone felt that they had earned the right to an exhibition of their personalities with no interference on his part.

He preserved a pa.s.sive, dignified silence.

As for Hartwell, openly attacked from without, within a no less violent conflict of invisible forces was crowding him to self-humiliation. To retreat from the scene meant either an open confession of wrong-doing, or a refusal on his part to do justice to the man whom he had wronged.

To remain was to subject himself to the open triumph of Zephyr and Bennie, and the no less a.s.sured though silent triumph of Firmstone.

Hartwell's reflections were interrupted by Zephyr's request for the keys to the safe. There was a clatter as Firmstone dropped them into his open hand. Hartwell straightened up with flushed cheeks. Pierre's words again came to him. The whole thing might be a bluff, after all. The safe might be empty. Here was a possible avenue of escape. With the same blind energy with which he had entered other paths, he entered this. He leaned back in his chair with tolerant resignation.

"If it amuses you people to make a mountain out of a molehill I can afford to stand it."

Bennie looked pityingly at Hartwell. "G.o.d Almighty must have it in for you bad, or he'd let you open your eyes t'other end to, once in a while."

As the safe was finally opened and one by one the dull yellow bars were piled on the scales, there was too much tenseness to allow of even a show of levity. Zephyr had no doubts. No one could have got at the safe while in the river; he could swear to that. From its delivery to the driver by Firmstone there had been no time nor opportunity to tamper with its contents. As for Firmstone, he had too much at stake to be entirely free from anxiety, though neither voice nor manner betrayed it.

He had had experience enough to teach him that it was not sufficient to be honest--one must at all times be prepared to prove it.

The last ingot was checked off. Firmstone silently handed Hartwell the copy of his original letter of advice and the totalled figures of the recent weighing. Hartwell accepted them with a cynical smile and laid them indifferently aside.

"Well," he remarked; "all I can say is, the company recovered the safe in the nick of time, from whom I don't pretend to say. We've got it, and that's enough." There was a grin of cunning defiance on his face. He had entered a covert where further pursuit was impossible.

For once Bennie felt unequal to the emergency. He turned silently, but appealingly, to Zephyr.

It was a new experience for Zephyr as well. For the first time in his life he felt himself jarred to the point of quick retort, wholly unconsonant with his habitual serenity. His face flushed. His hand moved jerkily to the bosom of his shirt, only to be as jerkily removed empty.

The harmonica was decidedly unequal to the task. His lips puckered and straightened. His final resort was more satisfying. He deliberately seated himself on the safe and began rolling a cigarette. Placing it to his lips, he drew a match along the leg of his trousers. The shielded flame was applied to the cigarette. There came a few deliberate puffs, the cigarette was removed. His crossed leg was thrust through his clasped hands at he leaned backward. Through a cloud of soothing smoke his answer was meditatively voiced.

"When the Almighty made man, he must have had a pot of sense on one hand and foolishness on the other, and he put some of each inside every empty skull. He got mighty interested in his work and so absent-minded he used up the sense first. Leastways, some skulls got an unrighteous dose of fool that I can't explain no other way. I ain't blaming the Almighty; he'd got the stuff on his hands and he'd got to get rid of it somehow.

It's like rat poison--mighty good in its place, but dangerous to have lying around loose. He just forgot to mix it in, that's all, and we've got to do it for him. It's a heap of trouble and it's a nasty job, and I ain't blaming him for jumping it."

CHAPTER XXI

_The Sword that Turns_

As Zephyr and Bennie left the office Hartwell turned to Firmstone. There was no outward yielding, within only the determination not to recognise defeat.

"The cards are yours; but we'll finish the game."

The words were not spoken, but they were in evidence.

Firmstone was silent for a long time. He was thinking neither of Hartwell nor of himself.

"Well," he finally asked; "this little incident is happily closed. What next?"

Hartwell's manner had not changed. "You are superintendent here. Don't ask me. It's up to you."

Firmstone restrained himself with an effort. "Is it?"

The question carried its own answer with it. It was plainly negative, only Hartwell refused to accept it.

"What else are you out here for?"

Firmstone's face flushed hotly. "Why can't you talk sense?" he burst out.

"I am not aware that I have talked anything else." Hartwell only grew more rigid with Firmstone's visible anger.

"If that's your opinion the sooner I get out the better." Firmstone rose and started to the door.

"Wait a moment." Firmstone's decision was, by Hartwell, twisted into weakening. On this narrow pivot he turned his preparation for retreat.

"The loss of the gold brought me out here. It has been recovered and no questions asked. That ends my work. Now yours begins. When I have your a.s.surance that you will remain with the company in accordance with your contract, I am ready to go. What do you say?"

Firmstone thought rapidly and to the point. His mind was soon made up.

"I decline to commit myself." The door closed behind him, shutting off further discussion.

The abrupt termination of the interview was more than disappointing to Hartwell. It carried with it an element of fear. He had played his game obstinately, with obvious defiance in the presence of Zephyr and Bennie; with their departure he had counted on a quiet discussion with Firmstone. He had no settled policy further than to draw Firmstone out, get him to commit himself definitely while he, with no outward sign of yielding, could retreat with flying colours. He now recognised the fact that the knives with which he had been juggling were sharper and more dangerous than he had thought, but he also felt that, by keeping them in the air as long as possible, when they fell he could at least turn their points from himself. Firmstone's departure brought them tumbling about his ears in a very inconsiderate manner. He must make another move, and in a hurry. Events were no longer even apparently under his control; they were controlling him and pushing him into a course of action not at all to his liking.

The element of fear, before pa.s.sive, was now quivering with intense activity. He closed his mind to all else and bent it toward the forestalling of an action that he could not but feel was immediate and pressing.

Partly from Firmstone, partly from Pierre, he had gathered a clear idea that a union was being organised, and this knowledge had impelled him to a course that he would now have given worlds to recall.

This act was none else than the engaging of a hundred or more non-union men. On their arrival, he had intended the immediate discharge of the disaffected and the installing of the new men in their places. He had chuckled to himself over the dismay which the arrival of the men would create, but even more over the thought of the bitter rage of Morrison and Pierre when they realised the fact that they had been outwitted and forestalled. The idea that he was forcing upon Firmstone a set of conditions for which he would refuse to stand sponsor had occurred to him only as a possibility so remote that it was not even considered. He was now taking earnest counsel with himself. If Firmstone had contemplated resignation under circ.u.mstances of far less moment than the vital one of which he was still ignorant--Hartwell drew his hand slowly across his moistening forehead, then sprang to his feet. Why had he not thought of it before? He caught up his hat and hurried to the door of the outer office. There was not a moment to lose. Before he laid his hand on the door he forced himself to deliberate movement.

"Tell the stable boss to hitch up the light rig and bring it to the office."

As the man left the room, Hartwell seated himself and lighted a cigar.

In a few moments the rig was at the door and Hartwell appeared, leisurely drawing on a pair of driving-gloves. Adjusting the dust-robe over his knees, as he took the lines from the man, he said:

"If Mr. Firmstone inquires for me tell him I have gone for a drive."

Down past the mill, along the trail by the slide, he drove with no appearance of haste. Around a bend which hid the mill from sight, the horses had a rude awakening. The cigar was thrown aside, the reins tightened, and the whip was cracked in a manner that left no doubt in the horses' minds as to the desires of their driver.

In an hour, foaming and panting, they were pulled up at the station.

Hitching was really an unnecessary precaution, for a rest was a thing to be desired; but hitched they were, and Hartwell hurried into the dingy office.

The operator was leaning back in his chair, his feet beside his clicking instrument, a soothing pipe perfuming the atmosphere of placid dreams.

"I want to get off a message at once." Hartwell was standing before the window.

The operator's placid dreams a.s.sumed an added charm by comparison with the perturbed Hartwell.

"You're too late, governor." He slowly raised his eyes, letting them rest on Hartwell.

"Too late!" Hartwell repeated, dazedly.

"Yep. At once ain't scheduled to make no stops." The operator resumed his pipe and his dreams.

"I've no time to waste," Hartwell snapped, impatiently.