"This came an hour ago, sir."

With an impatient gesture he opened the folded sheet and read, his heart slowly contracting:

Regret unable to accept first cargo of rails being five thousand tons.

These not up to your guarantee and our specifications. Full information this mail with the result of physical and chemical tests.

UNITED RAILWAY COMPANY.

Involuntarily he raised his head. The yacht was backing out, and the bishop, coiling a rope in her bows, straightened up to wave farewell.

Automatically Clark waved back, then, with the telegram crumpled in his palm, turned and walked slowly toward his office. Something the bishop had said began to sing in his brain. Could the best and the worst ever be the same thing?

XX.--THE CAR OF PROGRESS HALTS

The paralyzing news had lain in the faithful keeping of a confidential operator and the white faced secretary who had guarded it jealously.

The latter followed to the private office. When the door was closed in his face, he went to his own desk and sat blindly at his letters.

Clark stood at a big window that commanded the rapids. Deep lines were furrowed suddenly on his face, and his eyes were like sunken bits of cold, gray steel. He felt the gentle vibration of the mills, and through it pierced the words of the telegram like a thin sharp voice that would not be denied. It was fully an hour later that his call sounded for the secretary.

"The rail mill will be closed shortly for temporary alteration. If you are asked anything about it--and you will be--that is all you know.

This means that the furnaces must be blown down. I don't antic.i.p.ate any serious delay. You will repeat this telegram to Philadelphia, and add that I will report more fully in the next twenty-four hours.

There's just one thing more. A good deal of importance will attach to your manner and att.i.tude for the next few days. That's all."

The young man nodded, finding it difficult to speak. There was nothing unusual about his leader, except that the eyes were a little more deep set, the voice a shade harder.

A few moments later, Clark stood in the rail mill watching the t.i.tanic rolls spew out ribbons of glowing steel. It came over him in a sickening flood that the whole giant undertaking was useless, and instead of the supreme delight he experienced a few months before there was now but a huge mechanical travesty that flouted the unremitting strain and effort of years. He was defacing the everlasting hills with dynamite to make something the commercial world did not want. A surge of protest overcame his spirit, followed by a cynical contempt for the futility of the best efforts of man. Impatiently he walked up to the superintendent of the mill.

The latter touched a grimy hat. "We're on the last ten thousand tons for the United," he said with a note of pride--"the mill's running fine."

"It may be," snapped Clark acidly, "but shut it down. Your rails are no good."

The other man blinked at him. "Eh?"

"Do what you're told," repeated Clark with the least shake in his dominant voice. "The United doesn't want these rails, though some one else will."

Over the superintendent's sooty face crept a look of blank amazement.

"Shut down! why?" he floundered helplessly. "I can't, till this heat is through, and there's nothing the matter with the rails."

"Other people say there is, so get the heat through and obey orders."

Then, with sudden anger, "Is the job too big for you?"

He turned away abruptly, pa.s.sing the whirling flywheel, the ponderous cylinders, the glowing ovens, while above him the traveling crane moved like a whining monster across the blackened roof. He hastened, desirous of getting out of the presence of these giants whom he had a.s.sembled only in order that they might deride him with their ma.s.sive proportions.

So on to the towering ma.s.ses of the furnaces. Here he saw poured a molten charge, and stood fascinated, as always, by the smooth and deadly gleam of molten metal, till, curtly, the same orders were issued. No further charges should be fed in before orders to that effect. Then back to his office, where he cancelled shipments of c.o.ke, and sent to the iron mine a curt word that stilled the boom of dynamite and silenced the sharp chatter of the drills.

Gradually through the works spread the chilling news. A slowly thickening stream of Swedes, Poles and Hungarians filed out of the big gates, and Ironville was, in mid-afternoon, populated with a puzzled mult.i.tude that repaired automatically to the saloons. Through pulp mills and machine shops, through power and pumping stations, the story went, growing as rapidly as it spread. Time keepers heard it and office clerks, and the crews of tugs and steamships that lay at the big dock below the works. And while rumors were widening every minute, there was a knock at Clark's door and, looking up, he saw the comptroller who stood quietly, with a check for the week's payroll in his hand.

"How much?" The voice was admirably impersonal.

"One hundred and ten thousand." The comptroller was a short fat man, and at the moment quivering with suppressed excitement.

The general manager scribbled his initials on the blue slip, handed it back without a word, and did not even look up as the official went out.

A few minutes later he walked slowly through the pulp mill, stopping here and there to speak to superintendents and workmen. The swishing rasp of the great stones and the steady rumble of turbines brought him a sense of comfort. He progressed deliberately, and with his usual keen interest, so that, although hundreds of eyes followed him, not a man could a.s.sume that anything had gone seriously wrong. It was an hour in which he found and radiated confidence. Here, at least, was the universal conclusion that all was as it should be. He was on the bank of the power ca.n.a.l when his secretary approached again.

"What is it this time?"

"Hobbs is at the bank with the payroll check, and has just telephoned up. I think you'd better speak to him, sir."

Clark's lips pressed tight and his eyes opened a little. Retracing his steps, he listened to an agitated voice.

"Mr. Brewster states he has no authority to cash this check unless we cover our overdraft. He would like to talk to you."

"Let him."

Again the receiver spoke, while Clark's face grew suddenly very grim.

"I think you'd better come up and see me," he said shortly.

Then he listened. "Very well," he snapped. His features were like a mask. "I'm going down to the bank," he went on dryly to the secretary, "for the first time in his life Mr. Brewster is unable to leave his office and come up to mine when invited."

He drove into St. Marys followed by the glances of every man and woman who caught sight of the erect figure. The town was full of confused and conflicting rumors, but nothing had as yet crystallized. The appearance of Clark in mid afternoon at the door of the bank, thickened the air. It was known that people with whom he did business invariably went to him. Not in years had he been to Brewster. But for all of that he seemed as cheerful as usual, and took off his gray hat to Mrs.

Worden with accustomed and somewhat formal urbanity. Inside he found Hobbs, his round, soft face looking unhealthily pallid, and Brewster with his jaw stuck out, a determined expression on his young features.

"Well, what's the trouble?"

"Nothing very serious." Brewster spoke with a pleasant accent, but he was confronting the most difficult hour of his life. "Just this check."

"What about it?"

"I can't make any further advances till your present acceptances are met in Philadelphia. We have half a million of them."

"That payroll has got to be disbursed."

"I'm sorry, but I can't cash that check."

The lines on the older man's face tightened and deepened. "Mr.

Brewster, we have spent some fifteen millions of capital through your bank. This amount is too small to discuss. Do you realize that, if you persist, the men will go unpaid for the first time in seven years?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't help that." The young manager began to feel more fortified.

"Is this because there's a temporary interruption at the rail mill?"

said Clark bitterly. "You're a.s.suming a big responsibility."

"I regret that I can give no reasons, and am only doing what seems best in the interest of the bank. If the acceptances are met,--and the first falls due two weeks from to-day--our head office will probably authorize a further advance, provided we are secured. Under the circ.u.mstances your Philadelphia office should take care of this matter."

"And this is your last word?" snapped Clark with emphasis.