Edward E. Allison walked into the offices of the Municipal Transportation Company at nine o’clock, and set his basket of opened and carefully annotated1 letters out of the mathematical centre of his desk; then he touched a button, and a thin young man, whose brow, at twenty, wore the traces of preternatural age, walked briskly in.
“Has Mr. Greggory arrived?”
The intensely earnest young man glanced at the clock.
“Yes, sir,” he replied.
“Take him these letters, and ask him if he will be kind enough to step here.”
“Yes, sir,” and the concentrated young man departed with the basket, feeling that he had quite capably borne his weight of responsibility.
Allison, looking particularly fresh and buoyant this morning, utilised his waiting time to the last fraction of a second. He put in a telephone call, and took from the drawer of his desk a packet of neatly3 docketed papers, an index memorandum4 book, a portfolio5 of sketches6, and three cigars, the latter of which he put in his cigar case; then, his desk being empty, except for a clean memorandum pad and pencil, he closed it and locked it. The telephone girl reported his number on 48the wire, and, the number proving to be that of a florist7, he ordered some violets sent to Gail Sargent.
Greggory walked in, a fat man with no trace of nonsense about him.
“A month or so,” amended11 Allison, rising, and surveying the three articles on his desk calculatingly. “I’m going to take a vacation.”
“It’s about time,” agreed his efficient general manager. “I think it’s been four years since you stopped to take a breath. Going to play a little?”
“That’s the word,” and Allison chuckled12 like a boy. “Take care of these things,” and tossing him the packet of papers and the memorandum book, he took the portfolio of sketches under his arm.
“I suppose we’ll have your address,” suggested Greggory.
“No.”
Greggory pondered frowningly. He began to see a weight piling up on him, and, though he was capable, he loved his flesh.
“About that Shell Beach extension?” he inquired. “There’s likely to be trouble with the village of Waveview. Their local franchises—”
“Settle it yourself,” directed Allison carelessly, and Greggory stared. During the long and arduous13 course of Allison’s climb, he had built his success on personal attention to detail. “Good-bye,” and Allison walked out, lighting14 a cigar on his way to the door.
He stopped his runabout in front of a stationer’s, and bought the largest globe they had in stock.
49“I’ll take it with me,” and Allison helped them secure the clumsy thing in the seat beside him. Then he streaked16 up the Avenue to the small and severely17 furnished house where four ebony servants protected him from the world.
“Out of town except to this list,” he directed his kinky-haired old butler, and going into the heavy oak library, he closed the door. On the wall, depending from the roller case, was a huge map of the boroughs18 of New York, which had hung there since he had first begun to group transportation systems together. It was streaked and smudged with the marks of various coloured pencils, some faded and some fresh, and around one rectangle, lettered Vedder Court, was a heavy green mark. He picked up a pencil from the stand, but laid it down again with a smile. There was no need for that new red line; nor need, either, any longer, for the map itself; and he snapped it up into its case, on roller-springs stiff with disuse. In its place he drew down another one, a broad familiar domain19 between two oceans, and he smiled as his eye fell upon that tiny territory near the Atlantic, which, up to now, he had called a world, because he had mastered it.
His library phone rang.
“Mr. Allison?” a woman’s voice. Gail Sargent, Mrs. Sargent, Mrs. Davies, or Lucile Teasdale. No other ladies were on his list. The voice was not that of Gail. “Are you busy to-night?” Oh, yes, Lucile Teasdale.
“I’m so glad,” rattled21 Lucile. “Ted2’s just telephoned that he has tickets for ‘The Lady’s Maid.’ Can you join us?”
50“With pleasure.” No hesitation22 whatever; prompt and agreeable; even pleased.
“That’s jolly. I think six makes such a nice crowd. Besides you and ourselves, there’ll be Arly and Dick Rodley and Gail.” Gail, of course. He had known that. “We’ll start from Uncle Jim’s at eight o’clock.”
Allison called old Ephraim.
“I want to begin dressing23 at seven-fifteen,” he directed. “At three o’clock set some sandwiches inside the door. Have some fruit in my dressing-room.”
He went back to his map, remembering Lucile with a retrospective smile. The last time he had seen that vivacious24 young person she had been emptying a box of almonds, at the side of the camp fire at the toboggan party. He jotted25 down a memorandum to send her some, and drew a high stool in front of the map.
Strange this new ambition which had come to him. Why, he had actually been about to consider his big work finished; and now, all at once, everything he had done seemed trivial. The eager desire of youth to achieve had come to him again, and the blood sang in his veins26 as he felt of his lusty strength. He was starting to build, with a youth’s enthusiasm but with a man’s experience, and with the momentum27 of success and the power of capital. Something had crystallised him in the past few days.
Across the fertile fields and the mighty28 mountains and the arid29 deserts of the United States, there angled four black threads, from coast to coast, and everywhere else were shorter main lines and shorter branches, and, last of all, mere30 fragments of railroads. He began with the long, angling threads, but he ended with the fragments, and these, in turns, he gave minute and careful study. At three o’clock he took a sandwich and ordered his car. He was gone less than an hour, and came back with an armload of books; government reports, volumes of statistics, and a file of more intimate information from the office of his broker31. He threw off his coat when he came in this time, and spread, on the big, lion-clawed table at which Napoleon had once planned a campaign, a vari-coloured mass of railroad maps. At seven-fifteen old Ephraim found him at the end of the table in the midst of some neat and intricate tabulations.
“Time to dress, sir,” suggested Ephraim.
Allison pushed to the floor the railroad map upon which he had been working, and pulled another one towards him. Ephraim waited one minute.
“I’ve run your tub, sir.”
Allison leafed rapidly through the pages of an already hard-used book, to the section concerning the Indianapolis and St. Joe Railroad. Ephraim looked around calculatingly, and selected an old atlas32 from the top of the case near the door. He held it aloft an instant, and let it fall with a slam.
“Oh, it’s you,” remarked the absorbed Allison, glancing up.
“Yes, sir,” returned Ephraim. “You told me to come for you at seven-fifteen.”
Allison arose, and rubbed the tips of his fingers over his eyes.
“Keep this room locked,” he ordered, and stalked obediently upstairs. For the next thirty minutes he belonged to Ephraim.
He was as carefree as a boy when he reached Jim Sargent’s house, and his eyes snapped when he saw Gail come down the stairs, in a pearl tinted33 gown, with a triple string of pearls in her waving hair, and a rose-coloured 52cloak depending from her gracefully34 sloping shoulders.
Her own eyes brightened at the sight of him. He had been much in her mind to-day; not singly but as one of a group. She was quite conscious that she liked him, but she was more conscious that she was curious about him. She was curious about most men, she suddenly found, comparing them, sorting them, weighing them; and Allison was one of the most perplexing specimens35. A little heavy in his evening clothes, but not awkward, and not without dignity of bearing. He stepped forward to shake hands with her, and, for a moment, she found in her an inclination36 to cling to the warm thrill of his clasp. She had never before been so aware of anything like that. Nevertheless, when she had withdrawn37 her hand, she felt a sense of relief.
“Hello, Allison,” called the hearty39 voice of Jim Sargent. “You’re looking like a youngster to-night.”
“I feel like one,” replied Allison, smiling. “I’m on a vacation.” He was either vain enough or curious enough to glance at himself in the big mirror as he passed it. He did look younger; astonishingly so; and he had about him a quality of lightness which made him restless. He had been noted40 among his business associates for a certain dry wit, scathing41, satirical, relentless42; now he used that quality agreeably, and when Lucile and Ted, and Arly and Dick Rodley joined them, he was quite easily a sharer in the gaiety. At the theatre he was the same. He participated in all the repartee43 during the intermissions, and the fact that he found Gail studying him, now and then, only gave him an added impulse. He was frank with himself about Gail. He wanted her, and he had made up his mind to have her. He was himself a little surprised at his own 53capacity of entertainment, and when he parted from Gail at the Sargent house, he left her smiling, and with a softer look in her eyes than he had yet seen there.
Immediately on his return to his library, Allison threw off his coat and waistcoat, collar and tie, and sat at the table.
“What is there in the ice box?” he wanted to know.
“Well, sir,” enumerated44 Ephraim carefully; “Mirandy had a chicken pot-pie for dinner, and then there’s—”
“That will do; cold,” interrupted Allison. “Bring it here with as few service things as possible, a bottle of Vichy and some olives.”
He began to set down some figures, and when Ephraim came, shaking his head to himself about such things as cold dumplings at night, Allison stopped for ten minutes, and lunched with apparent relish45. At seven-thirty he called Ephraim and ordered a cold plunge46 and some breakfast. He had been up all night, and on the map of the United States there were pencilled two thin straight black lines; one from New York to Chicago, and one from Chicago to San Francisco. Crossing them, and paralleling them, and angling in their general direction, but quite close to them in the main, were lines of blue and lines of green and lines of orange; these three.
Another day and another night he spent with his maps, and his books, and his figures; then he went to his broker with a list of railroads.
“Get me what stock you can of these,” he directed. “Pick it up as quietly as possible.”
The broker looked them over and elevated his eyebrows47, There was not a road in the list which was 54important strategically, but he had ceased to ask questions of Edward Allison.
Three days later, Allison went into the annual stockholders’ meeting of the L. and C. Railroad, and registered majority of the stock in that insignificant48 line, which ran up the shore opposite Crescent Island, joined the Towando Valley shortly after its emergence49 from its hired entrance into New York, ran for fifty miles over the roadway of the Towando, with which it had a long-time tracking contract, and wandered up into the country, where it served as an outlet50 to certain conservatively profitable territory.
The secretary of the L. and C., a man of thick spectacles and a hundred wrinkles, looked up with fear in his eyes as his cramped51 old fingers clutched his pen.
“I suppose you’ll be making some important changes, Mr. Allison,” he quavered.
“Not in the active officers,” returned Allison with a smile, and the president, who wore flowing side-whiskers, came over to shake hands with him. “How soon can you call the meeting?”
“Almost immediately,” replied the president. “I suppose there’ll be a change in policies.”
“Not at all,” Allison reassured52 him, and walked into the board room, where less than a dozen stockholders, as old and decrepit53 as the road itself, had congregated54.
The president, following him, invited him to a seat next his own chair, and laid before him a little slip of paper.
“This is the official slate55 which had been prepared,” he explained, with a smile which it took some bravery to produce.
“It’s perfectly56 satisfactory,” pronounced Allison, glancing at it courteously57, and the elderly stockholders, 55knotted in little anxious groups, took a certain amount of reassurance58 from the change of expression on the president’s face.
The president reached for his gavel and called the meeting. The stockholders, grey and grave, and some with watery59 eyes, drew up their chairs to the long table; for they were directors, too. They answered to their names, and they listened to the minutes, and waded60 mechanically through the routine business, always with their gaze straying to the new force which had come among them. Every man there knew all about Edward E. Allison. He had combined the traction61 interests of New York by methods as logical and unsympathetic as geometry, and where he appeared, no matter how pacific his avowed62 intentions, there were certain to be radical63 upheavings.
Election of officers was reached in the routine, and again that solemn inquiry64 in the faded eyes. The “official slate” was proposed in nomination65. Edward E. Allison voted with the rest. Every director was re-elected!
New business. Again the solemn inquiry.
“Move to amend10 Article Three Section One of the constitution, relating to duration of office,” announced Allison, passing the written motion to the secretary. “On a call from the majority of stock, the stockholders of the L. and C. Railroad have a right to demand a special meeting, on one week’s notice, for the purpose of re-organisation and re-election.”
They knew it. It had to come. However, three men on the board had long held the opinion that any change was for the better, and one of these, a thin, old man with a nose so blue that it looked as if it had been dyed to match his necktie, immediately seconded.
56Edward E. Allison waited just long enough to vote his majority stock, and left the meeting in a hurry, for he had an engagement to take tea with Gail Sargent.
He allowed himself four hours for sleep that night, and the next afternoon headed for Denver. On the way he studied maps again, but the one to which he paid most attention was a new one drawn38 by himself, on which the various ranges of the Rocky Mountains were represented by scrawled66, lead-pencilled spirals. Right where his thin line crossed these spirals at a converging67 point, was Yando Chasm68, a pass created by nature, which was the proud possession of the Inland Pacific, now the most prosperous and direct of all the Pacific systems; and the Inland, with an insolent69 pride in the natural fortune which had been found for it by the cleverest of all engineers, guarded its precious right of way as no jewel was ever protected. Just east of Yando Chasm there crossed a little “one-horse” railroad, which, starting at the important city of Silverknob, served some good mining towns below the Inland’s line, and on the north side curved up and around through the mountains, rambling70 wherever there was freight or passengers to be carried, and ending on the other side of the range at Nugget City, only twenty miles north of the Inland’s main line, and a hundred miles west, into the fair country which sloped down to the Pacific. This road, which had its headquarters in Denver, was called the Silverknob and Nugget City; and into its meeting walked Allison, with control.
His course here was different from that in Jersey71 City. He ousted72 every director on the board, and elected men of his own. Immediately after, in the directors’ meeting, he elected himself president, and, kindly73 consenting to talk with the reporters of the 57Denver newspapers, hurried back to Chicago, where he drove directly to the head offices of the Inland Pacific.
“I’ve just secured control of the Silverknob and Nugget City,” he informed the general manager of the Inland.
“So I noticed,” returned Wilcox, who was a young man of fifty and wore picturesque74 velvet75 hats. “The papers here made quite a sensation of your going into railroading.”
“They’re welcome,” grinned Allison. “Say Wilcox, if you’ll build a branch from Pines to Nugget City, we’ll give you our Nugget City freight where we cross, at Copperville, east of the range.”
Wilcox headed for his map.
“What’s the distance?” he inquired.
“Twenty-two miles; fairly level grade, and one bridge.”
“Couldn’t think of it,” decided76 Wilcox, looking at the map. “We’d like to have your freight, for there’s a lot of traffic between Silverknob and Nugget City, but it’s not our territory. The smelters are at Silverknob, and they ship east over the White Range Line. Anyway, why do you want to take away the haulage from your northern branch?”
“Figure on discontinuing it. The grades are steep, the local traffic is light, and the roadbed is in a rotten condition. It needs rebuilding throughout. I’ll make you another proposition. I’ll build the line from Pines to Nugget City myself, if you’ll give us track connection at Copperville and at Pines, and will give us a traffic contract for our own rolling stock on a reasonable basis.”
Again Wilcox looked at the map. The Silverknob and Nugget City road began nowhere and ran nowhere, 58so far as the larger transportation world was concerned, and it could never figure as a competitor. The hundred miles through the precious natural pass known as Yando Chasm, was not so busy a stretch of road as it was important, and the revenue from the passage of the Silverknob and Nugget City’s trains would deduct77 considerably78 from the expense of maintaining that much-prized key to the golden west.
“I’ll take it up with Priestly and Gorman,” promised Wilcox.
“How soon can you let me know?”
“Monday.”
That afternoon saw Allison headed back for New York, and the next morning he popped into the offices of the Pacific Slope and Puget Sound, where he secured a rental79 privilege to run the trains of the Orange Valley Road into San Francisco, and down to Los Angeles, over the tracks of the P. S. and P. S. The Orange Valley was a little, blind pocket of a road, which made a juncture80 with the P. S. and P. S. just a short haul above San Francisco, and it ran up into a rich fruit country, but its terminus was far, far away from any possible connection with a northwestern competitor; and that bargain was easy.
That night, Allison, glowing with an exultation81 which erased82 his fatigue83, dressed to call on Gail Sargent.
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1
annotated
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| v.注解，注释( annotate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ted
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| vt.翻晒，撒，撒开 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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memorandum
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| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
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portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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sketches
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| n.草图( sketch的名词复数 )；素描；速写；梗概 | |
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florist
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| n.花商；种花者 | |
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surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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gauging
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| n.测量[试]，测定，计量v.（用仪器）测量( gauge的现在分词 )；估计；计量；划分 | |
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amend
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| vt.修改，修订，改进；n.[pl.]赔罪，赔偿 | |
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Amended
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| adj. 修正的 动词amend的过去式和过去分词 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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boroughs
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| （尤指大伦敦的）行政区( borough的名词复数 )； 议会中有代表的市镇 | |
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domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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rattled
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hesitation
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dressing
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vivacious
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| adj.活泼的，快活的 | |
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jotted
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veins
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momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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arid
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mere
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broker
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atlas
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tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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gracefully
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specimens
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inclination
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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drawn
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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scathing
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| adj.（言词、文章）严厉的，尖刻的；不留情的adv.严厉地，尖刻地v.伤害，损害（尤指使之枯萎）( scathe的现在分词) | |
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relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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repartee
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enumerated
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| v.列举，枚举，数( enumerate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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emergence
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| n.浮现，显现，出现，（植物）突出体 | |
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outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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traction
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| n.牵引；附着摩擦力 | |
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avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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radical
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| n.激进份子，原子团，根号；adj.根本的，激进的，彻底的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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nomination
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| n.提名，任命，提名权 | |
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scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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converging
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| adj.收敛[缩]的，会聚的，趋同的v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的现在分词 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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ousted
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| 驱逐( oust的过去式和过去分词 )； 革职； 罢黜； 剥夺 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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deduct
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| vt.扣除，减去 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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rental
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| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
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juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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erased
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| v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；清除 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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