Orde heard no more of Newmark--and hardly thought of him--until over two weeks later.
In the meantime the riverman, assuming the more conventional garments of civilisation1, lived with his parents in the old Orde homestead at the edge of town. This was a rather pretentious2 two-story brick structure, in the old solid, square architecture, surrounded by a small orchard3, some hickories, and a garden. Orde's father had built it when he arrived in the pioneer country from New England forty years before. At that time it was considered well out in the country. Since then the town had crept to it, so that the row of grand old maples4 in front shaded a stone-guttered street. A little patch of corn opposite, and many still vacant lots above, placed it, however, as about the present limit of growth.
Jack5 Orde was the youngest and most energetic of a large family that had long since scattered6 to diverse cities and industries. He and Grandpa and Grandma Orde dwelt now in the big, echoing, old-fashioned house alone, save for the one girl who called herself the "help" rather than the servant. Grandpa Orde, now above sixty, was tall, straight, slender. His hair was quite white, and worn a little long. His features were finely chiselled7 and aquiline8. From them looked a pair of piercing, young, black eyes. In his time, Grandpa Orde had been a mighty9 breaker of the wilderness10; but his time had passed, and with the advent11 of a more intensive civilisation he had fallen upon somewhat straitened ways. Grandma Orde, on the other hand, was a very small, spry old lady, with a small face, a small figure, small hands and feet. She dressed in the then usual cap and black silk of old ladies. Half her time she spent at her housekeeping, which she loved, jingling12 about from cellar to attic13 store-room, seeing that Amanda, the "help," had everything in order. The other half she sat in a wooden "Dutch" rocking-chair by a window overlooking the garden. Her silk-shod feet rested neatly14 side by side on a carpet-covered hassock, her back against a gay tapestried15 cushion. Near her purred big Jim, a maltese rumoured16 to weigh fifteen pounds. Above her twittered a canary.
And the interior of the house itself was in keeping. The low ceilings, the slight irregularities of structure peculiar17 to the rather rule-of-thumb methods of the earlier builders, the deep window embrasures due to the thickness of the walls, the unexpected passages leading to unsuspected rooms, and the fact that many of these apartments were approached by a step or so up or a step or so down--these lent to it a quaint18, old-fashioned atmosphere enhanced further by the steel engravings, the antique furnishings, the many-paned windows, and all the belongings19 of old people who have passed from a previous generation untouched by modern ideas.
To this house and these people Orde came direct from the greatness of the wilderness and the ferocity of Hell's Half-Mile. Such contrasts were possible even ten or fifteen years ago. The untamed country lay at the doors of the most modern civilisation.
Newmark, reappearing one Sunday afternoon at the end of the two weeks, was apparently20 bothered. He examined the Orde place for some moments; walked on beyond it; finding nothing there, he returned, and after some hesitation21 turned in up the tar22 sidewalk and pulled at the old-fashioned wire bell-pull. Grandma Orde herself answered the door.
At sight of her fine features, her dainty lace cap and mitts23, and the stiffness of her rustling24 black silks, Newmark took off his gray felt hat.
"Good-afternoon," said he. "Will you kindly25 tell me where Mr. Orde lives?"
"This is Mr. Orde's," replied the little old lady.
"Pardon me," persisted Newmark, "I am looking for Mr. Jack Orde, and I was directed here. I am sorry to have troubled you."
"Mr. Jack Orde lives here," returned Grandma Orde. "He is my son. Would you like to see him?"
"If you please," assented26 Newmark gravely, his thin, shrewd face masking itself with its usual expression of quizzical cynicism.
"Step this way, please, and I'll call him," requested his interlocutor, standing27 aside from the doorway28.
Newmark entered the cool, dusky interior, and was shown to the left into a dim, long room. He perched on a mahogany chair, and had time to notice the bookcases with the white owl29 atop, the old piano with the yellowing keys, the haircloth sofa and chairs, the steel engravings, and the two oil portraits, when Orde's large figure darkened the door.
For an instant the young man, who must just have come in from the outside sunshine, blinked into the dimness. Newmark, too, blinked back, although he could by this time see perfectly30 well.
Newmark had known Orde only as a riverman. Like most Easterners, then and now, he was unable to imagine a man in rough clothes as being anything but essentially31 a rough man. The figure he saw before him was decently and correctly dressed in what was then the proper Sunday costume. His big figure set off the cloth to advantage, and even his wind-reddened face seemed toned down and refined by the change in costume and surroundings.
"Oh, it's you, Mr. Newmark!" cried Orde in his hearty32 way, and holding out his hand. "I'm glad to see you. Where you been? Come on out of there. This is the 'company place.'" Without awaiting a reply, he led the way into the narrow hall, whence the two entered another, brighter room, in which Grandma Orde sat, the canary singing above her head.
"Mother," said Orde, "this is Mr. Newmark, who was with us on the drive this spring."
Grandma Orde laid her gold-bowed glasses and her black leather Bible on the stand beside her.
"Mr. Newmark and I spoke33 at the door," said she, extending her frail34 hand with dignity. "If you were on the drive, Mr. Newmark, you must have been one of the High Privates in this dreadful war we all read about."
Newmark laughed and made some appropriate reply. A few moments later, at Orde's suggestion, the two passed out a side door and back into the remains35 of the old orchard.
"It's pretty nice here under the trees," said Orde. "Sit down and light up. Where you been for the last couple of weeks?"
"I caught Johnson's drive and went on down river with him to the lake," replied Newmark, thrusting the offered cigar in one corner of his mouth and shaking his head at Orde's proffer36 of a light.
"You must like camp life."
"I do not like it at all," negatived Newmark emphatically, "but the drive interested me. It interested me so much that I've come back to talk to you about it."
"Fire ahead," acquiesced37 Orde.
"I'm going to ask you a few questions about yourself, and you can answer them or not, just as you please."
"Oh, I'm not bashful about my career," laughed Orde.
"How old are you?" inquired Newmark abruptly38.
"Thirty."
"How long have you been doing that sort of thing--driving, I mean?"
"Off and on, about six years."
"Why did you go into that particular sort of thing?"
Orde selected a twig39 and carefully threw it at a lump in the turf.
"Because there's nothing ahead of shovelling40 but dirt," he replied with a quaint grin.
"I see," said Newmark, after a pause. "Then you think there's more future to that sort of thing than the sort of thing the rest of your friends go in for--law, and wholesale41 groceries, and banking42 and the rest of it?"
"There is for me," replied Orde simply.
"Yet you're merely river-driving on a salary at thirty."
Orde flushed slowly, and shifted his position.
"Exactly so--Mr. District Attorney," he said drily.
Newmark started from his absorption in his questioning and shifted his unlighted cigar.
"Does sound like it," he admitted; "but I'm not asking all this out of idle curiosity. I've got a scheme in my head that I think may work out big for us both."
"Well," assented Orde reservedly, "in that case--I'm foreman on this drive because my outfit43 went kerplunk two years ago, and I'm making a fresh go at it."
"Failed?" inquired Newmark.
"Partner skedaddled," replied Orde. "Now, if you're satisfied with my family history, suppose you tell me what the devil you're driving at."
He was plainly restive44 under the cross-examination to which he had been subjected.
"Look here," said Newmark, abruptly changing the subject, "you know that rapids up river flanked by shallows, where the logs are always going aground?"
"I do," replied Orde, still grim.
"Well, why wouldn't it help to put a string of piers45 down both sides, with booms between them to hold the logs in the deeper water?"
"It would," said Orde.
"Why isn't it done, then?"
"Who would do it?" countered Orde, leaning back more easily in the interest of this new discussion. "If Daly did it, for instance, then all the rest of the drivers would get the advantage of it for nothing."
"Get them to pay their share."
Orde grinned. "I'd like to see you get any three men to agree to anything on this river."
"And a sort of dam would help at that Spruce Rapids?"
"Sure! If you improved the river for driving, she'd be easier to drive. That goes without saying."
"How many firms drive logs on this stream?"
"Ten," replied Orde, without hesitation.
"How many men do they employ?"
"Driving?" asked Orde.
"Driving."
"About five hundred; a few more or less."
"Now suppose," Newmark leaned forward impressively, "suppose a firm should be organised to drive ALL the logs on the river. Suppose it improved the river with necessary piers, dams, and all the rest of it, so that the driving would be easier. Couldn't it drive with less than five hundred men, and couldn't it save money on the cost of driving?"
"It might," agreed Orde.
"You know the conditions here. If such a firm should be organised and should offer to drive the logs for these ten firms at so much a thousand, do you suppose it would get the business?"
"It would depend on the driving firm," said Orde. "You see, mill men have got to have their logs. They can't afford to take chances. It wouldn't pay."
"Then that's all right," agreed Newmark, with a gleam of satisfaction across his thin face. "Would you form a partnership46 with me having such an object in view?"
Orde threw back his head and laughed with genuine amusement.
"I guess you don't realise the situation," said he. "We'd have to have a few little things like distributing booms, and tugs47, and a lot of tools and supplies and works of various kinds."
"Well, we'd get them."
It was now Orde's turn to ask questions.
"How much are you worth?" he inquired bluntly.
"About twenty thousand dollars," replied Newmark.
"Well, if I raise very much more than twenty thousand cents, I'm lucky just now."
"How much capital would we have to have?" asked Newmark.
Orde thought for several minutes, twisting the petal48 of an old apple-blossom between his strong, blunt fingers.
"Somewhere near seventy-five thousand dollars," he estimated at last.
"That's easy," cried Newmark. "We'll make a stock company--say a hundred thousand shares. We'll keep just enough between us to control the company--say fifty-one thousand. I'll put in my pile, and you can pay for yours out of the earnings49 of the company."
"That doesn't sound fair," objected Orde.
"You pay interest," explained Newmark. "Then we'll sell the rest of the stock to raise the rest of the money."
"If we can," interjected Orde.
"I think we can," asserted Newmark.
Orde fell into a brown study, occasionally throwing a twig or a particle of earth at the offending lump in the turf. Overhead the migratory50 warblers balanced right-side up or up-side down, searching busily among the new leaves, uttering their simple calls. The air was warm and soft and still, the sky bright. Fat hens clucked among the grasses. A feel of Sunday was in the air.
"I must have something to live on," said he thoughtfully at last.
"So must I," said Newmark. "We'll have to pay ourselves salaries, of course, but the smaller the better at first. You'll have to take charge of the men and the work and all the rest of it--I don't know anything about that. I'll attend to the incorporating and the routine, and I'll try to place the stock. You'll have to see, first of all, whether you can get contracts from the logging firms to drive the logs."
"How can I tell what to charge them?"
"We'll have to figure that very closely. You know where these different drives would start from, and how long each of them would take?"
"Oh, yes; I know the river pretty well."
"Well, then we'll figure how many days' driving there is for each, and how many men there are, and what it costs for wages, grub, tools--we'll just have to figure as near as we can to the actual cost, and then add a margin51 for profit and for interest on our investment."
"It might work out all right," admitted Orde.
"I'm confident it would," asserted Newmark. "And there'd be no harm figuring it all out, would there?"
"No," agreed Orde, "that would be fun all right."
At this moment Amanda appeared at the back door and waved an apron52.
"Mr. Jack!" she called. "Come in to dinner."
Newmark looked puzzled, and, as he arose, glanced surreptitiously at his watch. Orde seemed to take the summons as one to be expected, however. In fact, the strange hour was the usual Sunday custom in the Redding of that day, and had to do with the late-church freedom of Amanda and her like.
"Come in and eat with us," invited Orde. "We'd be glad to have you."
But Newmark declined.
"Come up to-morrow night, then, at half-past six, for supper," Orde urged him. "We can figure on these things a little. I'm in Daly's all day, and hardly have time except evenings."
To this Newmark assented. Orde walked with him down the deep-shaded driveway with the clipped privet hedge on one side, to the iron gate that swung open when one drove over a projecting lever. There he said good-bye.
A moment later he entered the long dining-room, where Grandpa and Grandma Orde were already seated. An old-fashioned service of smooth silver and ivory-handled steel knives gave distinction to the plain white linen53. A tea-pot smothered54 in a "cosey" stood at Grandma Orde's right. A sirloin roast on a noble platter awaited Grandpa Orde's knife.
Orde dropped into his place with satisfaction.
"Shut up, Cheep!" he remarked to a frantic55 canary hanging in the sunshine.
"Your friend seems a nice-appearing young man," said Grandma Orde. "Wouldn't he stay to dinner?"
"I asked him," replied Orde, "but he couldn't. He and I have a scheme for making our everlasting56 fortunes."
"Who is he?" asked grandma.
Orde dropped his napkin into his lap with a comical chuckle57 of dismay.
"Blest if I have the slightest idea, mother," he said. "Newmark joined us on the drive. Said he was a lawyer, and was out in the woods for his health. He's been with us, studying and watching the work, ever since."
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civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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pretentious
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| adj.自命不凡的，自负的，炫耀的 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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maples
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| 槭树，枫树( maple的名词复数 )； 槭木 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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chiselled
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| adj.凿过的，凿光的； （文章等）精心雕琢的v.凿，雕，镌( chisel的过去式 ) | |
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aquiline
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| adj.钩状的，鹰的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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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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tapestried
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| adj.饰挂绣帷的，织在绣帷上的v.用挂毯（或绣帷）装饰( tapestry的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rumoured
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| adj.谣传的；传说的；风 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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mitts
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| n.露指手套，棒球手套，拳击手套( mitt的名词复数 ) | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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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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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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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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essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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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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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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proffer
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| v.献出，赠送；n.提议，建议 | |
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acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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shovelling
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| v.铲子( shovel的现在分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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wholesale
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| n.批发；adv.以批发方式；vt.批发，成批出售 | |
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banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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restive
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| adj.不安宁的，不安静的 | |
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piers
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| n.水上平台( pier的名词复数 )；（常设有娱乐场所的）突堤；柱子；墙墩 | |
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partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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48
petal
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| n.花瓣 | |
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earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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migratory
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| n.候鸟，迁移 | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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54
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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