J 
 
 GEORGE C. SHEDD
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE 
 DUKANE
 
 OF CJLT.TF. LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES
 
 " Come help me find my will " 
 
 See page /or
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE 
 DUKANE 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE C. SHEDD 
 
 AITHOR OF "THE PRINCESS OF FORQE," ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 STANLEY L. WOOD 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 SMALL, MAYNARD AND COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1911 
 
 BY SMALL, MATNAKD AND COMPANY 
 (INCORPORATED) 
 
 Entered at Stationert' Hall
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I THE BLOODY FIELD OF MELTON ... 1 
 
 II SILVER PEAK 23 
 
 III DUKANE IN FETTERS 44 
 
 IV ONE RESULT OF A SHOT 71 
 
 V A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 95 
 
 VI CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 120 
 
 VII BY THE RIVER 146 
 
 VIII UNDER THE CHIEF'S THUMB 170 
 
 IX FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 192 
 
 X AN UNOFFICIAL EXAMINATION . . . .214 
 
 XI THE COUNTER-STROKE 235 
 
 XII A COUNCIL OF WAR 258 
 
 XIII A NEW CHIEF IN COMMAND 280 
 
 XIV THE SKIRMISH 300 
 
 XV THE BATTLE 322 
 
 XVI A NEW REGIME . 343 
 
 2132920
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "COMB HELP ME FIND MY WILL." 
 
 See page 101 Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 IT CRACKED LIKE A RIFLE A FEW INCHES BEFORE 
 LANTRY'S NOSE 108 
 
 "HERE, PUT THAT UP; WE DON'T WANT ANY 
 SHOOTIN'," LANTRY SAID 244 
 
 IN THEIR MIDST STRODE LANTRY AND CORBETSON 310
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE BLOODY FIELD OF MELTON 
 
 green tail-lights of the train flickered, 
 -* faded, then with a sudden mischievous 
 wink altogether disappeared; the last puffing 
 of the engine was like a hoarse chuckle. 
 
 "Dumped in a puddle at eleven o'clock at 
 night," Jimmy Dukane vociferated resentfully. 
 
 In the caravan just departed there was 
 everything to comfort the soul, to cheer the 
 mind, and moisten the palate bright lights, 
 snug chairs, jolly companions, a well-stocked 
 buffet. Here ? what the deuce was here any- 
 way except water? He faced about. Water 
 dripped from the eaves under which he stood; 
 water fell in large slow drops from a leak 
 somewhere overhead into the upturned col- 
 lar of his silk raincoat; water in the form 
 of a warm drizzle saturated the night as 
 steam fills a Turkish bath. A few misera- 
 ble beams of light escaped through the dingy 
 depot window out upon the wet platform and
 
 gleamed glassily along the rails ; some distance 
 away in front of him glowed half a dozen 
 misty, luminous balls like swamp-lanterns, 
 which he surmised to be windows. 
 
 "The governor stung his son and heir this 
 time," he remarked in immense disgust. 
 
 James A. Dukane, Sr. had, so to speak, 
 brought down his fist on the table with a bang ; 
 James A. Dukane, Jr. had been under the fist 
 and his eyes popped open very wide indeed. It 
 befell thus: Dukane and Company, New 
 York, Pittsburg, Chicago, Denver, Salt Lake 
 and San Francisco was, as its numerous of- 
 fices indicated, a large and extensive firm. 
 Concrete was flesh on its bones, concrete the tis- 
 sue of its brain, concrete construction the breath 
 which issued from its body. The Dukane 
 company would take up a bucketful of con- 
 crete and build you anything your heart de- 
 sired and your mind conceived if your pocket- 
 book could pay for it, from a canal-lock to a 
 sea-wall, from a bridge to a three-hundred foot 
 chimney, from a reservoir dam to a light-house, 
 a subway, a sky-scraper, or a ten-acre factory 
 and it generally had half a dozen of these 
 going at once. James A. Dukane, Sr. was 
 the dominating will and soul of the company;
 
 THE BLOODY FIELD OF MELTON 3 
 
 into whatever construction was undertaken he 
 wove the fiber of his nerve as wire netting is 
 incorporated in a floor ; he stirred his bold ideas 
 in the mixer ; he reinforced walls with his back- 
 bone; and into rock, gravel, mud or water, he 
 strode fearlessly where others faltered. So 
 much for Dukane senior. 
 
 Dukane junior, knew nothing about con- 
 crete, except that it did not suit his taste a 
 noisy business, with men yelling around der- 
 ricks and dumping great buckets of gray stuff 
 like half-cooked calves' brains into huge 
 moulds, while squat little engines chugged 
 frantically. Besides, the governor was mak- 
 ing plenty of money for them both. Jimmy 
 was twenty-six, rather stocky in build, with 
 sparkling black eyes, a rosy cheek, crisp, wavy 
 black hair and a flashing smile. At his univer- 
 sity he had been considered to take things 
 "on the bounce"; during the three years 
 since, he had continued to take them very much 
 on the bounce, whether by fattening the 
 "bookies," or by frisking at Palm Beach, or 
 screaming up the river in his automobile, or 
 pursuing those radiant, illusive, bright-eyed 
 beings who have their orbit between the thea- 
 ters and the lobster-palaces on Broadway. He
 
 4 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 looked as if built of India rubber, and his elas- 
 ticity confirmed the appearance ; for there could 
 be no two opinions he truly took things on 
 the bounce. How then join rubber to con- 
 crete? 
 
 Money was forthcoming for his needs but 
 with an accompaniment of admonitions which 
 grew to warnings which grew to commands. 
 Wrath veiled the brow of Dukane senior, as 
 clouds darken Olympus: he bided his time. 
 Once for all now, he finally decided, he would 
 make or break that incorrigible good-for-noth- 
 ing, his son. 
 
 This resolve on the part of his father the 
 younger Dukane should have deduced as in- 
 evitable, but did not. Admonitions, warnings, 
 commands, all slid off his back as do rain- 
 drops off an industrious young gander. For 
 he was very busy, he himself said so, with a 
 wrinkle marking his forehead. The blow fell 
 at a most unfavorable season and in a most 
 discomfiting fashion. Just why he and 
 "Pussy" Van Orsden and Fred Cartwright, 
 rich young fellows like himself, had gone to 
 California, he could not have clearly explained; 
 the origin of the expedition had to do with a 
 dispute which arose among them as to whether
 
 THE BLOODY FIELD OF MELTON 5 
 
 figs grew on thistles: a dispute inspired by 
 much champagne, and in order to settle the 
 question Pussy had ordered his father's private 
 car hooked on a train and they thereupon set 
 out to the land where figs flourished. Figs, 
 they discovered, did not grow on thistles ; never- 
 theless they had two weeks of a very lively time. 
 It was on the third occasion of Jimmy's draw- 
 ing heavy funds through the San Francisco 
 office (he admitted that he had caromed rather 
 briskly of late against the parental cushion) 
 that the concrete fist smashed down on rubber. 
 
 Followed swift interchange of telegrams: 
 full and soothing explanations from the Pa- 
 cific; hot, fervid, stormy orders from the At- 
 lantic. The prodigal was peremptorily com- 
 manded to return to New York ; then this edict 
 was cancelled and he was directed to report to 
 the San Francisco office. 
 
 "I have here an order," the manager of that 
 branch informed him, "to set you to work at 
 once to send you, for a starter, to examine 
 the construction of the Silver Peak dam, after 
 which you will go to New York and file your 
 statement. Here are a railroad ticket to Mel- 
 ton, the nearest station, a pullman ticket and 
 one hundred dollars."
 
 6 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Dukane, junior, bounced out of his chair. 
 
 "One hundred dollars one hundred pea- 
 nuts ! What fun can a fellow have on a penny 
 and me make a report ! The governor waxes 
 humorous. Ill wire him again." 
 
 "No use. He sailed to-day for a month's 
 absence abroad. This is final." 
 
 Jimmy digested this last news for a period 
 of ten seconds. 
 
 "I'm shot through a wing," said he. "Per- 
 haps I can sell my report to the comic papers. 
 And all of a hundred dollars I can never 
 spend it in this life-time. Well, give me the 
 powder, I'll send up a last rocket and come 
 back with concrete on my hair and fingers. 
 Do you stick your head in the bucket when 
 making an examination?" 
 
 This ridicule the manager ignored. "Would 
 you like to see your father's last telegram?" 
 he inquired, with the flicker of a smile. 
 
 "To be sure. Dad's always interesting, 
 even when pettish." 
 
 The other handed him a yellow sheet. It 
 read: 
 
 "Will be a month in London, make him 
 work or let him starve James A. Dukane." 
 
 The youth returned the sheet.
 
 THE BLOODY FIELD OF MELTON 7 
 
 "Shot through both wings," said he; and 
 departed. 
 
 Now here he was at Melton, somewhere in 
 the desert of Nevada where it "never rained." 
 Was that black space between him and the 
 globular blurs of light a street, a swamp, or 
 a river? 
 
 At his elbow a voice spoke. 
 
 "Lend me a quarter, Mister, for a bite and a 
 bed." 
 
 Ordinarily Jimmy would have given him a 
 coin; but now he was displeased, not at the 
 hobo, not at the rainy night, but at a certain 
 gentleman of the same name as himself who 
 that very minute was voyaging across the At- 
 lantic in splendid luxury. 
 
 "Nothing doing; I've only fifty dollars- 
 broke myself." 
 
 "Only a quarter " 
 
 "Beat it, child of darkness!" 
 
 Seizing his traveling bag he started for the 
 lights opposite, while a stream of curses fol- 
 lowed him from the tramp. The street he had 
 to cross was not quite a swamp, nor yet a river, 
 but there were mire, pools and puddles; when 
 he came into the dingy little hotel, he was 
 soaked and bedraggled to the knees, while his
 
 8 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 disposition was not improved. Over the small 
 counter a coatless, puffy-faced, unshaven man 
 sprawled. 
 
 "I would like a room with a bath," Jimmy 
 said, sweetly. 
 
 "And a piano, perhaps, and flowers in 
 the morning." The man eyed him belliger- 
 ently. 
 
 Discretion, Jimmy concluded, was the better 
 part of valor. He invited the man to join 
 him in a drink, which smoothed their acquaint- 
 ance to a more amiable intercourse. When 
 they returned from the barroom, Jimmy ob- 
 served that the tramp who had accosted him 
 upon the depot platform had put in an appear- 
 ance in the barren tobacco-scented office and 
 occupied a corner chair. It was a nasty night ; 
 he felt in his pocket for some small coins, but 
 found none, remembering that he had given 
 the last to his sleeping car porter. 
 
 "You get the bridal-chamber only room 
 with a window to the front," the proprietor 
 addressed Dukane, leading him across to a 
 door. "If you need a bath, kick loose the 
 screen and step out into the rain." And with 
 a huge guffaw the man went back to his 
 counter.
 
 THE BLOODY FIELD OF MELTON 9 
 
 There was a window and there was a screen ; 
 the window was up, for the night was sultry, 
 and an invisible insect buzzed at intervals along 
 the screen. A strip of stained w T all-paper de- 
 pended from the ceiling; the wash-stand, on 
 which stood the smoky lamp, had a washbowl, 
 chipped pitcher and an ancient cake of soap; 
 a few nails had at some time been driven in 
 one wall for hooks. 
 
 He locked the door. Meditatively remov- 
 ing his clothes he folded them upon the foot- 
 rail of the bed and donned his pajamas. He 
 laid himself between the blankets ye gods, 
 blankets in summer time! and continued to 
 meditate. For rubber, it appeared, was after 
 all about to be joined to concrete; which was 
 deserving of reflection. Through the thin 
 shell of the wall he could hear the noise made 
 by maudlin patrons of the barroom; presently 
 he distinguished close at hand the proprietor 
 driving forth the hobo into the street. He 
 considered how it would feel to sleep on a wet 
 street; it was bad enough on musty straw. 
 The tramp's feet sounded along the board 
 walk, paused by his window a moment, then 
 passed. Jimmy held communion with himself 
 on numerous subjects, for he had not been to
 
 10 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 bed so early in many, many moons. Outside, 
 the drip of water continued in a subdued noc- 
 turne; on the rusty screen the insect buzzed 
 its lonesome lament. 
 
 When he opened his eyes it was still to the 
 sound of dripping water, but the insect had 
 folded its wings and retired. Gray light of 
 day stood in the window; a faint rattle of 
 dishes sounded from somewhere near; he sat 
 up yawning and running his fingers through 
 his hair. All at once he bounced out upon the 
 floor. Where were his clothes, where his 
 traveling bag. At his feet lay a bunch of wet 
 objects resembling rags and two lumps of 
 mud vile trousers, sodden shirt and coat, 
 shapeless hat, shoes. He ran to the door, un- 
 locked it, put his head forth. 
 
 "Here you, I've been robbed!" he cried. 
 
 A pallid, thin-lipped individual, with head 
 shaven to the smoothness of a billiard ball, 
 stood behind the desk. 
 
 "Room paid for?" 
 
 "No, I've been robbed, I say. Screen taken 
 out." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 Jimmy fairly danced. 
 
 "Don't 'well' me!" he shouted.
 
 THE BLOODY FIELD OF MELTON 11 
 
 "Room not paid for and robbed. Old stall 
 won't work." 
 
 "By heaven, I'll teach you!" 
 
 Jimmy in a rage, indifferent to all but the 
 shiny-pated man who insinuated that he was a 
 liar, rushed back to the heap on the floor, 
 jerked the dirty garments on over his pajamas, 
 thrust his feet into the lumps of mud, slapped 
 the disreputable hole-pierced hat upon his head 
 and bounced out into the office. 
 
 The man had come from behind the desk, 
 while a second individual had joined him, a 
 low-browed fellow wearing a soiled apron tied 
 about his waist and carrying one hand behind 
 his back. 
 
 "You damnable nest of robbers!" Jimmy 
 roared. 
 
 "See that door?" the thin-lipped man re- 
 sponded. "Climb through a window into our 
 bed, will you? Out you go!" 
 
 He reached for Jimmy. The latter's fist 
 caught him on the jaw, staggering him. A 
 moment of flying arms, ducking heads and 
 whirling bodies followed, a struggle cyclonic 
 in character with Jimmy as the axis ; then the 
 youth had a brief vision of an uplifted beer 
 bottle in the hand of the man who wore the
 
 12 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 apron, which was succeeded by a stream of 
 stars and lightnings, then swift darkness. 
 
 There is a tale of a certain magic carpet 
 which bore its possessor at will about the do- 
 main of Arabia or elsewhere; but the singular 
 property of eliminating space which this won- 
 derful rug held has never been clearly ex- 
 plained or understood. A similar and star- 
 tling transversion of distance, a dip into the 
 Fourth Dimension, as it were, occurred in the 
 case of young Dukane only there was no car- 
 pet. He seemed to wink for one instant, then 
 he found to his astonishment that he sat in a 
 puddle in the street. One of his hands was 
 pressed to his head, his lips were shaped to a 
 round O of exclamation, while the seat of his 
 ragged trousers was very, very wet; mud 
 smeared his person and his face, blood and mud 
 adorned one cheek in a fashion to stir the color- 
 ful soul of an Indian chief about to don his 
 war-paint and one eye was puffed and black- 
 ened. 
 
 "Whew, did the boiler blow up?" he asked 
 himself. He had been bounced very hard 
 indeed. 
 
 A throbbing pain under the egg-like lump 
 on which his hand rested recalled the vision of
 
 THE BLOODY FIELD OF MELTON 13 
 
 the lifted bottle. An empty beer bottle may 
 prove both useful and dangerous; he fingered 
 his cranium tenderly to discover if there were in 
 it any crevice or chasm. Finally he climbed 
 to his feet and crossed to the depot, where he 
 asked for a telegraph blank, but the agent ey- 
 ing him with disfavor inquired if he had money 
 to pay for the dispatch of a message. Jimmy 
 discussed with him the ethics of C. O. D. tele- 
 grams, discussed the subject vigorously, only 
 to retire in defeat to a window of the waiting 
 room where he whistled softly and ruminated 
 upon the rudeness of railway employees. The 
 reflection of his face in the glass caught his 
 eye: it was a startling but not handsome face; 
 it was not the face of anyone whom he had 
 ever known; it was a totally strange, disrep- 
 utable, dilapidated, depraved, villainous face, 
 it was a face to ponder. Withdrawing from 
 the depot he mounted one of several freight 
 cars that stood on a siding and on its top cast 
 up accounts. 
 
 Presently a passenger train thundered into 
 the station and took water from the wavside 
 
 / 
 
 tank before proceeding on its journey. He 
 considered the advisability of boarding it, but 
 recollected the evil face that had confronted
 
 14* THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 him in the window; railroads are not lenient 
 with hoboes. As the train wheels began to 
 move the door of the freight car on which he 
 sat was flung back, a figure leaped forth and 
 ran towards the departing passenger. Upon 
 the head of the man rested a derby hat, a silk 
 raincoat fluttered about his body and he car- 
 ried a smart hand-bag. At sight of this fa- 
 miliar paraphernalia, a yell burst from Jimmy's 
 lips; he scrambled down the iron rungs of the 
 car, gave chase, but the man was already 
 aboard, the train was now moving rapidly and 
 a mocking hand waved at him. 
 
 "The blue ribbon is mine I beat all comers 
 in the idiot class," said he, disgustedly. 
 
 The rest of the day was what Dukane 
 junior very properly designated dull. M el- 
 ton was not a populous habitation ; it comprised 
 the depot, water tank, the dingy hotel, a Chi- 
 nese restaurant, three saloons, a livery stable, 
 two empty, windowless buildings, a board walk 
 and a pump. In the trough under the spout 
 of the pump he washed his battered face and 
 performed such a toilet as is possible with mere 
 fingers. During the afternoon he tried to 
 steal unobserved upon a west-bound train, but 
 was kicked off by an unsympathetic, burly
 
 THE BLOODY FIELD OF MELTON 15 
 
 Erakeman. Then for a time he watched the 
 station-agent at work in a box-car, at rather 
 curious work. The man cut the cords of bags 
 of cement stamped with red lettering and 
 poured the fine grayish powder into other bags 
 printed with blue lettering, which he sewed up 
 with needle and twine. Jimmy approached 
 the car and leaned elbows upon the door sill. 
 
 "I'm not fond of red either," he remarked, 
 friendlily. 
 
 The agent whirled about with a palpable 
 start, a shadow of fear on his face, then cursed 
 him fiercely. 
 
 Jimmy retired; nevertheless he remained 
 mystified as to why cement was better in blue 
 than in red-lettered bags. He would some day 
 put the question to his father, who knew all 
 that was to be known about cement. Mean- 
 while the drizzle fell steadily. At supper time 
 he walked back and forth upon the board walk, 
 where the odors emanating from the kitchen 
 tantalized his nostrils. He was of the opinion 
 that he could eat even cabbage and he loathed 
 cabbage, a food fit only for goats. That night 
 he dreamed he was about to dine with Pussy 
 and Fred Cartwright at Sherry's, but as he 
 sat at table something was continually press-
 
 16 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 ing on his shoulders, while the waiter held 
 his nose with thumb and forefinger grinning 
 at him ; then he awoke to find that it was only 
 the bottom of the box car where he had sought 
 repose which made his shoulder blades ache 
 and instead of a waiter clutching his proboscis 
 he was sniffling with a heavy cold. 
 
 "And I never even got a mouthful of that 
 supper," he groaned, vainly seeking a more 
 comfortable position. 
 
 Next morning he went into the depot wait- 
 ing room for warmth; his head felt like one 
 of the cabbages he hated ; he sniffled much, for 
 he had no handkerchief. The agent eyed him 
 through his ticket window with strong disap- 
 proval and coldly denied his request for food. 
 It was some time later, after the man had gone 
 forth to continue his transfer of the contents 
 of the cement bags, that a bright-eyed, brown- 
 haired little woman, with a child clinging to 
 her skirt, brought him a plate of bread and 
 a steaming cup of coffee. 
 
 "I heard you ask," she said. "We live 
 upstairs and I sometimes relieve my husband 
 at the key. You're really hungry, aren't 
 you?" 
 
 Jimmy experienced a sensation such as he
 
 THE BLOODY FIELD OF MELTON 17 
 
 might have felt if he beheld an angel descend- 
 ing from Heaven with food on a golden 
 platter. 
 
 "I'm so hungry I could gnaw the stove," he 
 responded, cheerfully. 
 
 With sincere and ardent thanks he received 
 the proffered breakfast and devoured it to the 
 last crumb and final drop. The little woman 
 remained awhile chatting. 
 
 "You've been hurt," she said. She stood 
 with one hand on her hip, the other holding 
 the empty plate and cup. 
 
 "I'm a horrible example of what awaits a 
 hasty tongue. The keeper of the tavern and 
 his bar-keeper nearly slew me because I re- 
 sented being robbed. But after all, they were 
 not to blame, for a tramp stole my clothes out 
 of a window and left me these that you see me 
 in. I'll now study over the perplexing prob- 
 lem of where I can find a dinner I've four 
 hours to do it in. I'll see if I can't invent a 
 way to make the hotel man provide me with a 
 meal." 
 
 But dinner was to come from an unexpected 
 source. About noon two six-horse teams 
 pulled down the hill north of Melton, their 
 wheels solid disks of mud, and drew up be-
 
 18 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 fore the car of cement, where bags began to 
 be loaded into them. This was the nearest ap- 
 proach to excitement (not counting what he 
 had participated in) Dukane had experienced, 
 so thither he bent his way. He was now an 
 investigator of matters concrete ; he would ob- 
 serve concrete in the process of transporta- 
 tion. 
 
 A large red-faced man with a shoe-brush 
 mustache was speaking when he arrived upon 
 the scene. 
 
 "We need men bad. Can't get 'em." 
 
 "There's a 'bo you might take along," said 
 the agent, tossing a bag into the wagon and 
 nodding towards Dukane. "I'm sick of see- 
 ing him round here." 
 
 "Same to you," Jimmy returned, promptly. 
 
 The driver of the wagon faced about and 
 regarded him. 
 
 "I'll take anybody, even a hobo," he said at 
 length. "Here, do you want a job? Two 
 dollars a day and board? How about your 
 dinner?" 
 
 "Are you inviting me to join you?" Dukane 
 inquired politely. 
 
 "Yes, soon as the horses are 'tended to." 
 
 The wagon-boxes were loaded, the teams
 
 THE BLOODY FIELD OF MELTON 19 
 
 were soon unbridled and their noses buried in 
 oat-filled nose-bags. 
 
 "Come along," said the man. 
 
 Satisfied as a pup who has the prospect of 
 a meaty bone before him Jimmy followed the 
 two drivers, the red-faced one who introduced 
 himself as Martin and the other who answered 
 to the sobriquet of Shorty, to the Chinese 
 restaurant. After his previous day's fast, the 
 bread and coffee given him by the agent's wife 
 had only served to whet his appetite. Upon 
 steak, potatoes, turnips and apple pie, he 
 therefore descended silently and capaciously. 
 Later they returned to the wagons, where the 
 nose-bags were removed from the horses and 
 the bridles restored. 
 
 "Climb up," Martin said, indicating the 
 wagon-seat. 
 
 "Where are you taking me?" Dukane asked. 
 
 "To work, that's enough for you." 
 
 "I don't go blind to places." 
 
 "You don't? We'll see about that." Mar- 
 tin dropped the long driving lines he was 
 gathering up and advanced towards the boy. 
 
 "I'm no common laborer," Jimmy explained, 
 with heat. 
 
 "You soon will be."
 
 20 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "But I've got business got to go to San 
 Francisco." 
 
 "Think you can beat me out of the price of 
 a dinner, do you? Up on the wagon you go." 
 
 "Not much, you lobster-colored 
 
 The sentence was never finished; Martin 
 had grabbed for him and Jimmy knocked the 
 man's hand away. This fight was prettier 
 than had been the first, for here was only one 
 man to meet and no beer bottle. Dukane was 
 mad clear through, likewise Martin. What 
 angered the former particularly as the contest 
 progressed were the insults heaped on him by 
 the agent who stood a hostile observer in the 
 car door, suggesting, while fists flew, that 
 Martin "knock the hobo's block off," "chew 
 him up" "put out his lights," and recom- 
 mending sundry other barbarous tactics. 
 Jimmy bounced about and fought like a 
 demon, but Martin was larger, stronger, and 
 bored in savagely. The boy grew sick, racked 
 by tremendous blows, dazed by fierce jolts, 
 and finally went down upon his back. Martin 
 stood over him, panting. Then he took a 
 bucket yet half full of water from supplying 
 the horses and swished its contents upon his 
 inert opponent. Jimmy opened his eyes, sat
 
 THE BLOODY FIELD OF MELTON 21 
 
 up, shook the streams off his face, looked 
 about, perceived Martin, sprang to his feet 
 and rushed at him. Whang the bucket de- 
 scended upon Jimmy's head, and down he 
 went a second time. 
 
 "He's sure a scrapper and only a kid, too," 
 Martin said, admiringly. "Reckon I'll have 
 to throw him on the wagon along with the 
 sacks." 
 
 This, however, proved to be unnecessary. 
 Jimmy struggled to a sitting posture. He 
 clapped his hand on his head and again his 
 mouth opened in a round O of expostulation, 
 for now there were present two egg-shaped 
 lumps; nor was he any more pleasing to the 
 eye than he had been the morning before when 
 he found himself sitting in the street; fresh 
 mud plastered his clothes and face, the cut on 
 his forehead flowed blood anew. 
 
 "Are you ready to go to work, or do you 
 want more?" Martin inquired, in business-like 
 tones. 
 
 Jimmy Dukane gazed at the man and gazed 
 at the bucket and then rubbed his bumps. 
 
 "Sure, I'm crazy to w r ork," he answered. 
 
 As the wagons were drawing away, he saw 
 the sneering agent in the car door. Rage
 
 22 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 seethed afresh in his heart. He started to 
 climb over the sacks of cement, shouting, "I 
 can tear the feathers off of you anyway, you 
 uncooked squab," but was promptly haled back 
 and held upon the seat by Martin. Five min- 
 utes later the long-lashed whips were crack- 
 ing, the teams were straining up the slippery 
 hillside and the bloody battle-field of Melton 
 lay behind.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 SILVER PEAK 
 
 road twisted among a few low, treeless 
 hills and presently emerged upon a plain 
 of yellow dirt, level as a floor and covered with 
 a furze of black sage brush which spread as 
 far as eye could see to the range of mountains 
 which rose ten miles distant in the north. 
 Across this tract the road cut straight as an 
 arrow, following the course of a telephone 
 line of a single wire. The waste had no 
 charm; it stretched eastward and westward on 
 either hand in brown, flat, cheerless monotony 
 to the horizon. A place of desolation, thought 
 Jimmy, a land fit for owls and rattlesnakes 
 and heartless fathers. 
 
 Soon the rain ceased, the clouds thinned to 
 masses of vapor through which the sun burst, 
 dissolving them and pouring down a scalding 
 heat. Mud made progress slow; frequent 
 halts were necessary to allow the sweating 
 teams to breathe. Among the clumps of sage 
 
 23
 
 24 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 brush, through which wandered here and there 
 a few cattle picking sparse blades of grass, 
 pools of water gleamed like quicksilver. With 
 the dissipation of the clouds the mountains 
 stood forth suddenly, vivid and distinct in the 
 crystal air, imminent as if one had but to put 
 out a hand to touch them their bases green, 
 their shoulders gloomy with thick pine for- 
 ests, their rocky crags, bare, gray, difficult and 
 slashed with snow-filled pockets. The range 
 extended at a fairly regular height, except di- 
 rectly in front where towered a single superior 
 crest, pointed, smooth, gleaming white against 
 the sun, a dominant mountain-lord. This 
 was Silver Peak. 
 
 The geological formation of the range was 
 peculiar. In the convulsive cataclysm in which 
 it was created, the uplift had occurred obliquely 
 against the rock strata, so that the tilted ledges 
 lay diagonally upon the face of the mountains. 
 In consequence the drainage was also oblique. 
 The melting snows flowed down slantingly, 
 and while a few stony creek-beds, dry the 
 greater part of the year, meandered across the 
 plain, the rolling river which had its source 
 in the snows of Silver Peak passed into the 
 southeast and left the smooth and level stretch
 
 SILVER PEAK 25 
 
 of country to the west a desert, unwatered and 
 desolate. Many an irrigationist looked upon 
 this open sweep with quickened mind, many an 
 engineer climbed the slopes and studied the 
 surface convolutions, only to shake his head 
 and depart. There were brooks that rattled 
 down gorges, streams that flowed through 
 grassy parks, lakes that lay in high valleys; 
 but always the rock slant lifted a barrier 
 against their utilization as a source of supply 
 for irrigation purposes. 
 
 One patient and indefatigable searcher, 
 however, at last discovered a feasible method 
 by which the water could be stored and di- 
 verted to the plain. Of the parks that lay upon 
 the lower slopes of the mountain there was one 
 oval in shape and perhaps two miles across its 
 widest part; a small river wound through it 
 lazily, thick flower-strewn meadows spread 
 over its bottom and a narrow gorge permitted 
 the water-course to escape to join the other 
 streams in forming the greater river. By 
 damming this gorge a magnificent reservoir 
 would be had. Measuring each section in the 
 rim which rose between park and plain the 
 engineer discovered a thin, concealed spot in 
 the shell through which a tunnel could be
 
 26 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 driven. The problem was solved. Lying as 
 the park did at a considerable elevation above 
 the country which was desired to be irrigated, 
 water could be easily carried from the tunnel 
 far westward along the slopes and delivered 
 upon land miles distant from the river. And 
 now capital was developing the project: one 
 contracting firm building the system of canals, 
 another the tunnel, and to Dukane and Com- 
 pany had fallen the business of constructing 
 the reservoir dam. 
 
 To Dukane the road leading thither seemed 
 interminable, though in reality it was only 
 the slow pace of the teams that produced this 
 impression. Occasionally he held converse 
 with the driver. Animosity over their late 
 difference of opinion rankled in the breast of 
 neither, since the matter had been definitely 
 settled. 
 
 " Where are we going?" the young fellow 
 asked with detached curiosity. 
 
 "To the Silver Peak reservoir dam." 
 
 "And who is building it?" Interest was no 
 longer detached. 
 
 "Old man Dukane. I've driven wagon 
 somewhere over the country for him these ten 
 years, but I've never seen him."
 
 SILVER PEAK 27 
 
 "I," said Jimmy, "I am his son." And he 
 calmly turned his face, the chief attractions of 
 which were a swollen nose, a black and blue 
 half -closed eye, mud and dried blood, to his 
 companion. 
 
 "You are the son of the devil. Hoboes al- 
 ways have rich fathers, to hear 'em tell it. 
 You'll be wanting to borrow money of me 
 pretty soon." 
 
 "Not soon, but now." 
 
 "Take a few minutes to think it over 
 and make certain," Martin answered ironi- 
 cally. 
 
 "I'll explain this mixup to the superin- 
 tendent." 
 
 "You'll work with a shovel, that's what 
 you'll do and besides he loves a hobo like a 
 snake." 
 
 There was food for reflection in this news. 
 
 "What's your real name?" Martin presently 
 asked. 
 
 "Hempledink, Ignacio Gustavus Hemple- 
 dink," Dukane replied sourly, angry at the 
 other's incredulity. "I was born of Swedish 
 parents in the Sahara desert and I am the Sia- 
 mese twins." 
 
 "Hempledink will do. You're one of the
 
 28 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 humorous boys, I see; you shall shovel rock 
 till your back cracks." 
 
 About five o'clock they reached the moun- 
 tains. At their base was a small shack town, 
 composed mostly of saloons and enterprises 
 of a similarly evil character, where the work- 
 men of the three camps might loaf, or riot on 
 pay day, or sleep off a debauch in drunken 
 slumber. The buildings were not pretty; long 
 unpainted boxes with strips of rusty black pa- 
 per fluttering in the wind, standing naked and 
 bare under the hot sun. Behind them lay piles 
 of tin cans and broken bottles, while flies 
 swarmed about the open, screened doors. 
 
 Through this town they passed and began 
 the ascent of the hill. Westward a cluster of 
 white dots on a slope showed the location of 
 the canal camp ; and already a long, thin, gray 
 scar slanted across the mountain's flank where 
 ran the big ditch in its gradual descent to the 
 plain. A mile above the town they came to 
 the tunnel camp; buildings of the same ma- 
 terial as those below placed at the mouth of 
 a ragged hole in the hillside. Just here at the 
 crest of the hill the ledge outcropped, running 
 along the top in a serrated wall and the final 
 climb of the road from the tunnel was steep
 
 SILVER PEAK 9 
 
 though short, but at last the wagons stood 
 upon the summit of the ridge. A magnificent 
 prospect of mountain and plain stretched end- 
 lessly into the hazy distance behind ; before and 
 below them lay the grassy park which formed 
 the site of the future reservoir. The hill where 
 they rested was a half-moon in shape, like a 
 bent finger jointed to the main body of Silver 
 Peak. The bowl was shallow, not over two 
 hundred feet deep, level bottomed, sheltered, a 
 flower-starred meadow through which the little 
 river looped in curves and bends to vanish at 
 last through the eastern cleft. A ranch-house 
 with out-buildings sat in the middle of the basin 
 and herds fed knee-deep about the meadows, 
 for though the ranch had been purchased by 
 the irrigation company, the owner was to main- 
 tain possession until the project was finished. 
 Martin pointed a finger at where, half a mile 
 away, the stream entered the split in the rim. 
 A smooth white spot was just distinguishable 
 in its bottom the partially constructed dam. 
 Jimmy gazed at it attentively out of his good 
 eye, for was not that gray line what he had 
 been sent to inspect? 
 
 Down into the park the wagons went. The 
 descent was easy and brief. At the foot they
 
 SO THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 met a girl riding a pony, sitting astride in the 
 western fashion and wearing sombrero and 
 gauntlets. As she pulled her mount aside to 
 allow the teaming outfits to pass, she waved a 
 greeting. 
 
 "Back again, Mr. Martin?" she cried. 
 
 "Safe and sound," he answered heartily. 
 
 "Did you bring dad his cigars?" 
 
 "By thunder!" Martin slapped hand on 
 knee "No." 
 
 "Well, he's waiting for them and you'll catch 
 it," she called over her shoulder; and rode on, 
 clattering up the stony hill. 
 
 Dukane caught only a fleeting vision of 
 bright eyes, brown hair glinting beneath hat- 
 brim, soft warm cheeks, red lips and white 
 teeth and supple figure; a vision that seemed 
 somehow a part of the sunshine that filled the 
 gleaming cup of the little valley. She had not 
 observed him, or had observed only to pass 
 him over as a horrible ragamuffin. 
 
 "You made me forget those cigars five 
 boxes, his own particular brand," Martin an- 
 nounced, half anxiously; "I was to have picked 
 them up at the depot." 
 
 "Well, you picked me up instead and you 
 might turn me over to the gentleman as a sub- 
 stitute."
 
 SILVER PEAK 31 
 
 "You've certainly got your nerve in work- 
 ing order. I'm ashamed to be seen with you." 
 
 "Now, don't pull down your bet," Jimmy 
 said; "y u chose me, so back your play." And 
 then, "Who is that beauteous damsel?" 
 
 "See here," Martin exclaimed, with an oath. 
 "Don't make any fresh talk about her or I'll 
 beat your head in. I'll not have any dirty 
 hobo throwing slurs " 
 
 "Slurs? Why, I never insulted a woman in 
 my life!" 
 
 "Don't begin now then." 
 
 "I'm not. She is beauteous and she is a 
 damsel; and I've seen a-many. My admira- 
 tion is genuine, my good patron, though your 
 misplaced indignation does you credit." 
 
 "So long as you don't mean anything, all 
 right. She's Enid Crofton, daughter of Wil- 
 liam Crofton, who owned this ranch and who 
 wanted those cigars." 
 
 "Supposing you turn me over to him; I'm 
 
 serious." 
 
 "He'd boot you out of the valley." 
 Jimmy considered. " If his boots don't 
 have points " he suggested mildly. But 
 Martin withered him with a gaze. After a 
 moment he went on, "I think I think I don't 
 look my prettiest."
 
 32 
 
 "I don't think I know. You look like 
 seven kinds of a bum." 
 
 "Seven, that's something." 
 
 "You make me tired, Hinkledink." 
 
 "Hinkeldink, ye gods !" 
 
 The road led past the Crofton ranch house, 
 swung to the eastward upon reaching the river 
 and followed it until the dam camp was 
 reached. 
 
 This comprised a dozen buildings which 
 crouched some distance before the mouth of 
 the gorge engine house, machine shop, bunk 
 houses, engineer's quarters, hospital and vari- 
 ous other structures. Just here the earth- 
 formation shaped itself from the hill or ridge 
 into a walled ledge of rock that slanted up- 
 ward steeply to a height of five hundred feet. 
 The vent through which the stream rattled out 
 of the basin was a clean cut rift three hundred 
 yards long, as if the rim had been slashed in 
 -twain by some gigantic sword; a split caused 
 by some tremendous earth-strain. Through 
 the exit of the gorge one had a narrow vista 
 of other parks and hills and valleys where this 
 little river, as well as sister streams, still flowed 
 land-locked upon the breast of Silver Peak. 
 
 The gorge-bed was full of boulders, with
 
 SILVER PEAK 33 
 
 here and there a thin, spiny pine trunk, which 
 had toppled down from the lip of the fissure, 
 lying among them, and over these the water 
 foamed and boiled and slid glassily in its 
 descent. Even at noonday the sun seldom 
 struck down to the bottom of the chasm; the 
 walls held a damp, odorous dimness, through 
 which one looked upward at the sky as in a 
 well; the noisy talk of the stream continued 
 ever, murmuring between the cliffs with a soft 
 music and sounding above the deep, resonant, 
 unvarying note formed of multitudinous echoes 
 that pulsed like the tones of the heavier pipes 
 of a great organ. 
 
 The uncompleted dam stood some distance 
 within the mouth of the gorge and at the nar- 
 rowest point, the nearest approach of the giant 
 walls. Here the width was but sixty feet from 
 rock to rock. Along each cliff a road had been 
 hewn out of the native ledge standing upward 
 above the line of juncture of dam with wall. 
 When finished the white structure, constructed 
 with an inward curve or arc against the stream, 
 would rise a hundred and fifty feet. Caissons 
 had been sunk in the water, gravel removed, 
 boulders blown to fragments, unstable blocks 
 blasted loose, until the dam's foundation
 
 34 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 gripped the solid backbone of the bed-rock 
 thirty feet below the surface of the river. Now 
 that this difficult work was done the dam was 
 beginning to show itself above the stream. 
 Scaffolding and frames covered the low wall 
 as with a netting ; spidery cables ran overhead ; 
 iron pipes to conduct steam to the hydraulic 
 drills lined either road from the power house 
 and an aerial tram on which great iron buckets 
 traveled to and fro, swung from the mixing 
 plant to the site of the structure. In daytime 
 the spot was a scene of industry ; men clung to 
 the cliffs like flies, the cables swayed and shook 
 with transported burdens, while the stac- 
 cato beat of drills or the reverberating thun- 
 der of dynamite blasts throbbed within the 
 canyon. 
 
 Work was over for the day when the two 
 drivers pulled their teams to a standstill in 
 the camp. 
 
 "Here's a new workman for you, Casey," 
 Martin called out to a man who stood in the 
 door of the mess-house. 
 
 Casey walked over and inspected Dukane. 
 
 "And where did you find the beauty?" he 
 inquired, in an impersonal manner. 
 
 "In the mud. He tried to beat me out of
 
 SILVER PEAK 35 
 
 the price of a meal that I gave him with the 
 generosity I have." 
 
 ''The miserable creature." 
 
 "His name is Hinkeldink and he'll do his 
 best, of course, to loaf at the work." 
 
 "Will he, oh! I'll put him in Mike Calla- 
 han's gang, who can wring work out of a dead 
 corpse. Get down and eat your supper, ye 
 dirty spalpeen. Won't work, will ye? Your 
 hands shall bleed and your belly grow sick. 
 Ye shall learn to love both ends of a shovel, 
 and the middle. What we don't know about 
 instructin' hoboes in the duties of mixing white 
 mud, can be well forgotten. Wash your 
 drunken face, eat your supper and draw two 
 blankets at the store, then say your prayers. 
 For ye're to be a hobo no more, but a sweatin' 
 slave with the fear of God and Mike Callahan 
 filling your crawling little soul." 
 
 "I'll make Mike Callahan bleat like a nanny- 
 goat if he lays a finger on me. Where's the 
 superintendent ?" 
 
 "Superintendent! He's not for the likes of 
 you. Get in to your supper, or yell have none 
 presently." 
 
 The truth of this remark aroused a quick 
 apprehension where threats of what Callahan
 
 36 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 would do had failed. After splashing his face 
 in a trough set for that purpose by a barrel 
 of water, and wiping it on one of several grimy 
 towels which hung beside the door of the mess- 
 house, he stepped inside the door. Seventy or 
 eighty men sat eating at two long tables. Im- 
 mense platters of steaming food weighed the 
 table and from these the men from time to time 
 helped themselves mightily; ravening hunger 
 prevailed, a hunger born of violent or heavy 
 labor, that was fed almost fiercely and that 
 seemed as if it would never be satisfied. Du- 
 kane slipped into a seat on one of the benches, 
 glanced at by a few of his neighbors, but re- 
 mained unremarked by the majority and un- 
 welcomed by any. Occasionally a mutter of 
 talk sounded from some point along one of the 
 tables; always there was a steady click and 
 clatter of knives and forks on dishes, while 
 moved continually the hurrying forms of 
 aproned men bearing fresh supplies of food. 
 After a comprehensive look Dukane sank his 
 identity in a heaping plate of beef, potatoes, 
 beans and bread. 
 
 Supper over, he inquired where stood the 
 office, thither made his way. It was in a wide, 
 double building, one of the rough, temporary,
 
 SILVER PEAK 37 
 
 tar paper-covered creations common to camps 
 and erected hastily, one-half serving for engi- 
 neer headquarters, the other for a company 
 store. The office was shut and locked. On 
 inquiry of a lean, observant individual who 
 picked his teeth in the door of the store and 
 who proved to be the storekeeper, he was in- 
 formed that the superintendent had ridden 
 away and would not be back until late. Jimmy 
 looked about at the dark mouth of the canyon, 
 at the rim of the hill, at the massive bulk of 
 Silver Peak. Though the sun still shone upon 
 the plain the intervening heights shut off the 
 sunset light and brought an earlier evening. 
 The steady sound of the river, the unstirring 
 peace of the valley, the impressive bulk of the 
 great adjacent mountain, filled him with a 
 sudden sense of loneliness and helplessness. 
 Hope deferred made his heart sick; security 
 appeared for a time withdrawn; Fate had 
 tricked him and after all he would have to 
 sleep hi one of the bunk houses with dirty la- 
 borers. With a sigh he drew an allotment of 
 two blankets and turned back. 
 
 "Casey told me you'd be along," said the 
 storekeeper. "You're down already in his 
 time book for Callahan's gang." And he
 
 88 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 grinned with the appreciation which knowl- 
 edge of that foreman's character and record 
 permitted. 
 
 There were two bunk houses, one for the 
 hard-rock men, the carpenters, machinists and 
 those who were howsoever lifted out of the 
 ordinary ruck by skilled knowledge and "big 
 pay," and one considerably larger for the com- 
 mon laborers, shovelers, teamsters, and all the 
 rest of the two-dollar-a-day-and-board herd. 
 Dukane had no trouble in finding an empty 
 bunk in the long barracks-like building, for the 
 camp, as Martin had stated, found it difficult 
 to procure workmen and more difficult to keep 
 them. Men came, stayed a week or two, then 
 with money in pocket drifted away. Dukane's 
 appearance at the dam, therefore, was scarcely 
 noted; he was taken for granted as one of the 
 dozens who came and went. In the darkness 
 about him when at last he retired, lay ster- 
 torous-breathing figures ; a light breeze blew in 
 the open door, yet the air was heavy with the 
 mingled odor of tar-paper, woolen blankets and 
 sweat-damped human bodies; and in the hol- 
 low of his ears there sounded the steady, insist- 
 ent voice of the river. A sense of the huge- 
 ness of the work going on here in an out of the
 
 SILVER PEAK 39 
 
 way corner, the sternness of the grapple which 
 these men who toiled by daylight and flung 
 themselves down in sleep at dark had with the 
 stubborn rock, only one of a score of such 
 conflicts carried on in the name of concrete 
 impressed him with a certain new and broad 
 respect for Dukane and Company. It was 
 the nearest he had ever come to its hidden, 
 thumping heart, and the pulsations stirred him 
 indescribably, though not yet with any definite 
 desire, particularly the humble desire to swing 
 a shovel. 
 
 Next morning he arose a new youth, re- 
 freshed, buoyant, cheerful. He would make 
 an explanation to the superintending engi- 
 neer, procure some decent clothes, cash a check, 
 make an inspection he would really make as 
 good an inspection as an uninformed fellow 
 could do and hie himself back to New York. 
 With his affairs thus resolved and the world 
 put in order, he made his way to breakfast 
 with a light heart. 
 
 "And you're the new felly who told Casey 
 you'd make me bleat like a nanny-goat," a 
 voice addressed him as he stepped forth after 
 eating into the morning sunlight that shot 
 through the gorge.
 
 40 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Half a dozen men stood in a group: two 
 booted chaps, evidently engineers, Casey, Mar- 
 tin, and finally a short, dark, frowning, uneasy 
 man wearing a brown mustache, all of whom 
 had been laughing at some remark. The one 
 who spoke was a large, bull-shouldered indi- 
 vidual with eyebrows thick as a finger, thick 
 lips, and face burnt fiery red from exposure; 
 he towered over Dukane a full foot. The 
 youth was for an instant almost awed by the 
 bulk of the man almost but not quite. 
 
 "You're a very, very big man, Mr. Calla- 
 han," said he, propitiatingly. "I withdraw 
 my statement ; I could not do it." 
 
 "You impudent scarecrow, get down to the 
 mixer and grab a shovel." 
 
 "Me? Oh, no! I want to see the chief, 
 whoever he is." 
 
 "I'll " Callahan began angrily, but was in- 
 terrupted by the man with the mustache. 
 
 "I'm in charge here; what do you want?" 
 
 "I'm Jim Dukane." 
 
 "Martin just told us that joke. Don't carry 
 it too far, if you don't want to be fired on the 
 spot." He looked scornfully at the boy's bat- 
 tered face. "You've been on a spree work 
 will do you good."
 
 SILVER PEAK 41 
 
 "But I'm telling the truth!" 
 
 "I know I know. Every tramp who drifts 
 in here could spin a tale if he thought to raise 
 a dollar by it to buy booze. Take him along, 
 Callahan." 
 
 Jimmy's eyes flashed or rather his one eye. 
 
 "Turn me down, do you, you " 
 
 But Callahan's iron hand descended upon his 
 shoulder and dragged him away, still shouting 
 threats and dire prophecies. 
 
 "You'll work till your back is broken in 
 three places," said the foreman. Still retain- 
 ing his grasp upon Dukane, he placed a shovel 
 in his hands. 
 
 Tears of rage rose in Jimmy's eyes ; he could 
 have smitten the superintendent into a gray 
 mass which would not be distinguishable from 
 concrete, but the iron hand pressed him stead- 
 ily towards a pile of crushed stone. Neverthe- 
 less, he was able to cast many imprecations at 
 the chief who heard them not and predict nu- 
 merous strange and painful things which 
 should happen to him, for Callahan could not, 
 at least, check his tongue. 
 
 Shoveling crushed stone is not an exciting 
 business, as convicts and Jimnw could inform 
 you and for all practical purposes Jimmy
 
 42 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 might as well have been a convict wearing a 
 ball and chain. Callahan devoted to him spe- 
 cial and wary attention in addition to much ad- 
 vice. There were three other men laboring at 
 tha pile; occasionally they leaned upon their 
 shovels to rest there was no rest allowed Du- 
 kane. The work palled on his soul and blis- 
 tered his hands. The mixer turned in eccen- 
 tric revolutions upon its diagonal axis, but 
 moved under no such heat of applied force 
 as he did under the propelling spirit of the 
 omnipotent foreman. At noon his back was 
 broken in the three places promised by Calla- 
 han, by evening the pieces were inf ragiated into 
 little detached fragments like the stone he 
 shoveled. It was a Jimmy Dukane of one 
 hundred years old who tottered up to the 
 washing trough at supper time with hands 
 seared, body bowed, knees shaking; but an in- 
 domitable spirit still ruled in him ; a fierce and 
 abiding thirst for revenge flamed in his breast, 
 and the things that his tongue had never all 
 day ceased to deliver to Callahan regarding 
 that foreman and the superintendent won 
 warm though silent admiration from the steel- 
 nerved satrap. Surely, Jimmy thought that 
 night as he turned his weary, battered face up
 
 SILVER PEAK 43 
 
 to the ceiling in the darkness of the bunk house, 
 surely he was one hundred years old. 
 
 Callahan confided to Casey, the timekeeper, 
 and Martin that Hemple was, judging by the 
 speech of him, unquestionably a son of the 
 devil.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 
 
 had arrived on a Thursday even- 
 ing; by Saturday night he had earned 
 four dollars. When he filed up to the store 
 with the other workmen, experiencing a cer- 
 tain proud distinction similar to that felt by a 
 school laggard who has unexpectedly won a re- 
 ward of merit, he received what he termed "a 
 punch in the solar plexus" ; there was no check 
 for him, and instead he found that his store ac- 
 count of six dollars and ten cents for blankets 
 and a sack of Durham tobacco was credited 
 with the amount. Thereupon he returned to 
 the bunk house profoundly respectful of the 
 Dukane company's business methods. 
 
 "I must buy clothes, that's a fact," he mused, 
 "but at this rate I'll be owing a month's pay 
 by next week. I'm slipping into an abyss of 
 debt with father far across the sea. Come ye 
 comrades, chant a chorus; Prometheus bound 
 to the rock!"
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 45 
 
 He had heard vaguely of peonage, of en- 
 forced labor in southern pineries and mines. 
 To his heated imagination, in the first moment 
 of shock, when his earnings were willy-nilly 
 withheld from him and when he had thought to 
 finger a check for four round dollars, it seemed 
 as if he were indeed robbed. Peonage was in 
 force here at Silver Peak, naked, outrageous, 
 unashamed; Mexico had nothing like it; next 
 they would be using whips; and Dukane and 
 Company was an inhuman monster to take 
 four dollars from a poor, down-trodden, body- 
 racked working man. All the indignation of 
 a beer-hall orator stirred in his breast, and on 
 its surface rose all the accompanying foam of 
 eloquence, so that he harangued a group of la- 
 borers before the bunk house door in socialistic 
 language, most of whom laughed, all of whom 
 lent a curious ear. When he ran out of breath 
 he sat down and rolled a cigarette and had a 
 glow of satisfaction. For was he not truly 
 one of the down- trodden ? He knew their sor- 
 rows and sufferings; capitalists were cormo- 
 rants ; and now and forever afterward he would 
 vote the workingman's ticket. 
 
 "It's not their holdin' out our time for stuff 
 we draw at the store that's all right," said
 
 46 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 one, "it's their graft and double prices. Take 
 your shoddy blankets, for instance, and a bag 
 of tobacco. Six dollars for one and ten cents 
 for the other, when you can buy 'em anywhere 
 for half of that. Ten cents for a little nickel 
 bag of smokin', what a man's got to have like 
 food ; and two dollars for a rotten pair of over- 
 alls that cost a dollar anywhere else under the 
 sun. Graf tin' graf tin' ; that's it top to bot- 
 tom, all the way round, all the way through, 
 Pennick at the store, the chief in the office." 
 
 "The chief," said Jimmy, picking up his 
 ears. 
 
 "Sure, on the cement. Didn't Pat Gorham, 
 who used to drive team, tell me before he left 
 that there was more bags paid for than came 
 into camp? Sure, there's graf tin'." 
 
 "But that can't be. The receipts all along 
 the line would show it up." 
 
 "Well, it's none of my business and I'm 
 not say in' it's so," said the man, on a sudden 
 alarmed lest he had uttered too great treason 
 against the chief. "All I know is what Pat 
 Gorham said; maybe he lied." 
 
 The talk of graft did not end with the man's 
 declaration of what Pat Gorham had vouch- 
 safed. During the next few days, the words
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 47 
 
 struck his ears more than once ; and it was not 
 an open subject of discussion, on the contrary 
 it was a closed one, jestingly hinted at, casually 
 alluded to, indifferently accepted as a common 
 custom in any business. The workmen were 
 all of the flotsam and jetsam of industry, turn- 
 ing their hand to any labor or to whatever proj- 
 ect necessitjr forced them; they were cynical 
 with the rough cynicism born of divers hard 
 circumstances in man} T States and under nu- 
 merous employers ; and their knowledge was as 
 a garment made out of shreds and patches. 
 The core of it was that every man was pursuing 
 the elusiye dollar, and the easier it was cap- 
 tured the better; graft was a regular thing 
 anywhere, sure! Hence the topic sifted 
 through their talk in a steady undercurrent, 
 impersonally, regularly, jocosely, as did the 
 subjects of work, food, pay, accidents, weather 
 and liquor. 
 
 "If there is graft, does the governor know 
 it ?" meditated Jimmy, leaning upon his shovel 
 for now the hitherto inexorable Callahan re- 
 laxed his iron discipline so far as to permit him 
 occasional moments of rest. Dukane junior 
 was well aware that there were many things 
 concerning his father of which he knew naught ;
 
 48 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 indeed, with the difference of opinion which 
 had existed between them as to Jimmy 
 himself the youth had, so far as he could, 
 studiously avoided all but conventional 
 family relations with Dukane senior. "But 
 dad is square and no grafter, I know 
 that nor is the company, either. I'll bet my 
 week's pay it's this shifty superintendent 
 who's at the bottom of it. I will look into 
 the matter." 
 
 That, however, was an investigation not un- 
 attended by difficulties. Ten hours of the day 
 were occupied with the shovel, three with meals, 
 and nine with sleep. The slim remainder of 
 time did not greatly impress him as affording 
 opportunity for a private examination. Be- 
 sides, he was only an atom in the camp, an atom 
 with a black eye and generally disreputable ap- 
 pearance ; all he could do for the present was to 
 listen to the men's gossip and trust to pick up 
 what miscellaneous bits of information came his 
 way. Then a dark and cunning scheme entered 
 his curly head. Pat Gorham had been a team- 
 ster and learned something; thither then led 
 his road. He began of evenings to cultivate 
 Miller, consulting him on the nature of horses, 
 on mending harness, loading wagons; Miller
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 49 
 
 spoke out of a full knowledge when he per- 
 ceived that he had a willing listener. 
 
 "I was born to be a teamster," Jimmy said 
 at last; "besides, one earns two-fifty a day." 
 
 Miller laughed. "You couldn't tell a trace 
 from a halter." 
 
 This was true, but Jimmy denied it, and 
 swore by all the gods that he could handle a six- 
 horse team with the skill and aplomb of a char- 
 iot driver. Moreover he informed Miller that 
 if the latter, as boss teamster, did not give him 
 a wagon to drive, the hostilities suspended at 
 Melton would be renewed. Miller once more 
 laughed, for he was highly amused at the boy 
 and answered that he would see about it. 
 
 But events were shaping themselves to a cri- 
 sis in young Dukane's affairs: he got into the 
 chief's black books. 
 
 Corbetson was a medium-sized, not a confi- 
 dence-inspiring man out of the Salt Lake of- 
 fice. He had a manner betokening secretive- 
 ness ; responsibility sat uneasily upon him ; and 
 he might have been any one of the thousand 
 nervous, harassed men whom one sees in cities, 
 wearing a close cropped mustache, eye-glasses, 
 and a wrinkle in the forehead. About forty 
 years of age, he had served in the employ of the
 
 50 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Salt Lake office for ten years, quietly, compe- 
 tently, and as one of the under men who made 
 up a cog in that particular wheel of the ma- 
 chine. Despite silent acquiescence in his work, 
 in the routine in which he worked apparently 
 with unquestioning loyalty, there nevertheless 
 was a live canker in the fruit of his service. 
 Secretly his soul fretted it fed on what seemed 
 studied and deliberate neglect of his abilities; 
 other men went up, but he remained tracing 
 maps or figuring estimates. That he received 
 no credit for his suggestions and none of the 
 profits that accrued from his labor bit like acid 
 into his brain. His salary was an insult; he 
 read magazine articles of captains of industry, 
 their wealth, their daring enterprises, discover- 
 ing that money was the solution of the conquest 
 of mankind ; nights he figured under the lamp 
 of his lone room (for he was unmarried) what 
 could be accomplished with this hypothetical 
 amount or that hypothetical amount, resolving 
 that he also should be rich. Did he not know 
 men in his own city who had made fortunes out 
 of contracts? Oh, if he had but the chance! 
 So he fretted and schemed and figured, distill- 
 ing hatred drop by drop in his heart for Du- 
 kane and Company which had crushed him.
 
 51 
 
 And then at last, all unexpectedly, he was 
 transferred to the district managed by the San 
 Francisco office and put in charge of the con- 
 struction of Silver Peak Reservoir Dam. 
 Even then he had been the second choice, for 
 the Company was at the moment loaded with 
 projects and in consequence new men had to 
 be lifted up to places of responsibility. Now 
 he had gained something ; but the habit of cavil 
 was fixed in him and he had according to his 
 viewpoint been granted but a miserable in- 
 crease in wages for extraordinary services. In 
 anger, therefore, he cast his eyes around him, 
 remembering that after all men in positions of 
 importance never grow rich on salaries but 
 with money picked up quietly in opportunities 
 afforded by their offices. There were a thou- 
 sand examples: aldermen in cities, legislators 
 in State Houses, directors watering railroads 
 by millions. Long before he came to Silver 
 Peak he had arrived at the state of mind when 
 the man with money represented absolute suc- 
 cess. And he was forty he must strike out. 
 A plan came into his mind, was rejected, re- 
 turned, again rejected, at last dallied with, con- 
 sidered, seized. It would make him money; 
 and why, he thought fiercely, should Dukane
 
 52 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 and Company strip him of the profit his brain 
 rightly deserved? Was it not he, Corbetson, 
 who was building the dam? Then, clenching 
 his hand, he took advantage of the sixty days 
 allowed him before the work on the dam began 
 to set the scheme in operation. But thereaf- 
 ter he became very uneasy indeed, for now he 
 had two responsibilities, the day responsibility 
 of the work, the night responsibility of secrecy, 
 and added to these was a third anxiety which 
 will presently appear. 
 
 That the hobo who had arrived in camp, bat- 
 tered, dirty, ragged and disreputable, was Du- 
 kane junior, never entered his restless thoughts. 
 When Martin related the fellow's nonsense and 
 pointed him out, and when he heard Jimmy's 
 declaration, he had instantly dismissed the sup- 
 posed pretension, being occupied with graver 
 matters. And meanwhile Jimmy shoveled 
 crushed rock. The manner in which the inter- 
 ests of Corbetson, who was the top of the camp, 
 and Dukane, who was the very bottom, chanced 
 to conflict, befell thus: On the tenth day of 
 his slavery Dukane heard a deep roar of pain 
 from Callahan. With a grinding jar the ma- 
 chinery of the mixer came to a stop as the 
 power was cut off. The foreman, making an
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 53 
 
 examination of a part of the complex mass of 
 iron and wheels, had had his hand caught in a 
 cog and his arm crushed to the elbow. It was 
 a sickening thing to look at. Pain and the 
 shock sucked the man's face white as paper. 
 The workmen gazed at him aghast, helpless, 
 stupid, while Callahan leaned against the 
 wheels which had mangled his limb, his great 
 frame shuddering with agony. 
 
 "For God's sake!" he whispered huskily. 
 "For God's sake, cut my arm off!" 
 
 The operator and Dukane both sprang to 
 assist him, themselves pale and horror-stricken, 
 and caught him as he wavered ; then half carry- 
 ing him, they bore him up to the little building 
 in which the camp doctor lived. Half an hour 
 later the arm was off at the elbow and Calla- 
 han, still unconscious from chloroform, lay in 
 one of the white beds of the hospital ward. 
 Jimmy Austin, the mixing-machine operator, 
 and Corbetson, had assisted in the grim busi- 
 ness of the' surgery. 
 
 Then they returned to the mixer. 
 
 "You lazy swine, get to your shovels," Du- 
 kane shouted, as the great iron bowl of the 
 machine once more began to rumble and 
 revolve.
 
 54 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Excitement of the late accident still ran in 
 his veins ; and besides, how could these ignorant 
 laborers work without a boss ? He, Jimmy Du- 
 kane, by his ten days' experience and natural 
 hatred for shoveling, was eminently fitted to 
 fill the position of foreman. He seized a bro- 
 ken shovel handle and ran at his late compan- 
 ions, demanding to know if they would work 
 or would not work, and whanged one sullen 
 Austrian over the back to give point to his ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "You need a boss, or you'd stand loafing all 
 day on your shovels. Consider me the first son 
 and heir of Callahan," he answered, and walked 
 insolently among them. 
 
 "What are you doing here?" the chief asked, 
 when he presently arrived. 
 
 "I have taken Callahan's place," Jimmy an- 
 swered modestly. 
 
 "And who told you to do it, you damned 
 hobo?" 
 
 Corbetson had been shaken by Callahan's ac- 
 cident. The sight of blood made him sick, and 
 also the thought of losing one of his best men 
 left him dispirited, fretful and on edge, quick 
 to take offence. 
 
 "Nobody appointed me, that's a fact."
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 55 
 
 "Well, you shall understand that I run 
 things here." 
 
 "Certainly, sir. But these beggars were 
 kicking their toes doing nothing ; they need an 
 overseer here I am." And turning, he beheld 
 the men grinning maliciously. "Here you!" 
 he shouted, and banged the Austrian across the 
 shoulders again. "That's all they need," he 
 explained to the chief. 
 
 Corbetson frowned and hesitated. Need it 
 they did, but this impudent upstart had 
 usurped authority and the chief was very 
 jealous of his authority. He looked about un- 
 easily; responsibility weighed on him, and he 
 always hated, shrank from a clash of wills. 
 
 "Keep them at it then," he growled. 
 
 For after all a boss was necessary, and if not 
 this fellow it would be some other; so he walked 
 away, uncertain in his own mind, feeling that 
 he had been overmatched, at once relieved that 
 a decision had been reached and resentful that 
 Hempledink, or whatever his name might be, 
 had not been more subservient. A mental 
 note, however, he penciled in his mind to sup- 
 press the young blackguard at the first oppor- 
 tunity and show him his rightful place. 
 
 Dukane enforced his newly acquired power
 
 56 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 with vigor; authority rejoiced his soul and the 
 broken shovel handle became the truncheon of 
 his office. In addition to seeing that the gang 
 shoveled and meanwhile maintained a proper 
 respect, he had time for observation of the res- 
 ervoir work at large. Crushed stone no longer 
 comprised his range of vision; he had to watch 
 the machine, of which he knew nothing what- 
 ever, and see that stone and cement and water 
 went into the mixer in proper proportions. 
 Where he was most ignorant, he wore an air of 
 greatest wisdom, and by asking adroit questions 
 of the operator, of Casey, and of others he 
 presently knew what was necessary to be 
 known. 
 
 "Ye've risen in the world, my foine black- 
 bird," said the timekeeper, who, hearing of his 
 promotion, had gone incredulously to the chief, 
 only to have the fact confirmed. 
 
 "It's but the first step," Dukane answered 
 masterfully, "the rest will come fast." 
 
 ' Ye're an impudent, black-hearted usurper 
 and will presently be kicked out of camp. Two 
 and a half a day is what ye now draw, worse 
 luck. Speak to me no more." 
 
 Casey, however, condescended to give him in- 
 formation, for which Dukane's empty mind,
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 57 
 
 now that it labored under responsibility, had 
 grown hungry. To many questions, neverthe- 
 less, the foreman could give no answer, and re- 
 marked that Hemple was a voracious young 
 cormorant with no manners; if he wanted to 
 know this and know that, why didn't he ask the 
 chief a timekeeper was not an encyclope- 
 dia. Wherefore one day Corbetson and an as- 
 sistant engineer named Satterfield, a tall, 
 stooped, hard working man, having chanced to 
 halt a little way off from the mixer where they 
 stood in consultation, he silently drew near to 
 their shoulders. They were speaking of lum- 
 ber. 
 
 "Why do you not transport it to the dam in 
 a sling on the aerial cable, instead of handling 
 it half a dozen times?" he said, entering the con- 
 versation unannounced, but with the virtuous 
 feeling that he offered valuable counsel. 
 "What you need is more system." 
 
 They looked around in astonishment. Then 
 blackness settled like a thunder-cloud on the 
 face of the chief. 
 
 "What are you doing here? Get back to 
 your work!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "But that's a fact I see a good many places 
 where system is lacking."
 
 58 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Corbetson broke into a vicious curse, the as- 
 sistant smiled satirically ; the idea of a common 
 laborer assuming to pass judgment upon the 
 methods of work in operation stung the one 
 and amused the other. 
 
 "There's something in the suggestion," the 
 latter however admitted. 
 
 The assistant engineer therefore came in for 
 the black look, for this was lending, as it were, 
 succor to the enemy. The vanity of the chief 
 was cut to the quick, all the deeper that in his 
 secret heart he knew his system was not flaw- 
 less. Somehow, now that everything was in 
 his own hands to mould and make, his mind 
 lacked that quick analysis, that ready expedi- 
 ent, which it had seemed to possess when he sat 
 in the company office at Salt Lake and flattered 
 himself on how he would have improved this 
 man's or that one's actual work ; and what was 
 worse he suspected that his two assistants knew 
 his deficiencies, though they offered no criti- 
 cism, and only made suggestions when re- 
 quested. His attitude was not at any time one 
 to encourage intimacy on the part of those be- 
 neath him. To have then an impudent, villain- 
 ous looking workman break in upon him as an 
 equal was more than he could tolerate.
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 59 
 
 "Get back to your work, or get your time, 
 one or the other," he ordered. 
 
 Jimmy regarded him narrowly. The virtue 
 of his offering was ignored and he thereupon 
 returned to the mixer and expressed his resent- 
 ment upon the back of the Austrian shirker, 
 who had listened and now grinned at him with 
 unconcealed delight. 
 
 "You vas got de throw-down," the latter tri- 
 umphed. 
 
 "You vas got de whacker," hissed Jimmy, 
 thumping him with his truncheon. 
 
 "I vill burn dat stick in a fire," was the man's 
 ferocious threat as he fingered his bruised ribs. 
 
 This Austrian was one of the score of nation- 
 alities Irish, Mexican, Slav, Greek, Swede 
 and many others represented in the dam 
 camp, but they were in the minority ; American 
 workmen predominated. All were of a rough, 
 animal type, knowing naught but hard, ex- 
 hausting labor; men whose bodies were stiff- 
 ened by toil, who had nothing to look forward 
 to but pay-day and a possible debauch. In the 
 other and smaller bunk-house the workmen 
 were superior; they possessed a certain inde- 
 pendent pride born of their skill, higher wages, 
 competence and exclusiveness. But Jimmy
 
 60 
 
 pronounced his own companions "cattle," and 
 he experienced a thousand profound emotions 
 disgust, anger, pity, sympathy, despair, at 
 their credulity, or ignorance, or habits, or help- 
 lessness, or blind struggles of soul against they 
 knew not what. Man in unformed, unquick- 
 ened, impotent mass he had never before seen ; 
 man driven to hopeless toil by the whips of mis- 
 erable existence ; man whose sole consideration 
 was body and whom necessity gave no time for 
 anything else. He was now in contact with 
 him, of him; and this strange new man gave 
 Jimmy much food for thought. 
 
 Of most of the men he made friends, of some 
 enemies. There was a little bent fellow from 
 Ohio, who had a bunk next to him and who, 
 though bearing the misfortune of a club foot, 
 was a cheerful soul. He had two teeth out in 
 front, which gave him an idiotic grin, and his 
 ears were large, standing wide upon his head; 
 he, however, was a steady and good workman, 
 a bucket handler on the dam, who did not go 
 roaring off to Tunneltown as did most on Sat- 
 urday nights. 
 
 "I'm saving my money," he informed Du- 
 kane, "to buy a piece of that irrigated land out 
 yonder. Got about four hundred dollars put
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 61 
 
 away out of the last three years' work. A farm 
 would just suit me, then there'd be no more 
 bein' shipped around by employment bureaus, 
 no more bunk-house. Give me a piece of 
 ground with alfalfa blossoming on it, and fruit 
 trees, and a cow or two, and a wife to sit on the 
 porch with me evenin's, that's all." And he 
 breathed a sign of content, with a rapt smile 
 at the vision. 
 
 "That would suit me also, Hop Spencer," 
 Jimmy asseverated, "I've had too much con- 
 crete I too long for a fat, spotted, philosoph- 
 ical cow. But I'm getting deeper into the 
 company's debt day by day for overalls, shoes 
 and so on. I'm doomed slowly strangling in 
 its grip. Pretty soon there'll be only my head 
 sticking above the white mud." 
 
 Spencer giggled. Hempledink, he said, al- 
 ways talked "so desperate-like" it made him 
 laugh. 
 
 It was on account of his acquaintance with 
 this merry little cripple and because of the 
 friendship which grew up between them that he 
 won the hostility of one Lantry, a brutal bully 
 of a man, a hard drinker when he had 
 money, a bearded, inflamed laborer, who sought 
 to impose his despotic rule upon the bunk-
 
 62 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 house. The fellow had taken of late to amus- 
 ing himself with Spencer, who in the beginning 
 had resented some rough jest at his expense; 
 now the cripple became the victim of deliberate 
 and systematic persecution on the part of Lan- 
 try little meannesses that stung, rough "horse 
 play," indecent quips and vile epithets, over 
 which Lantry would roar with laughter, to- 
 gether with half a dozen others of his kind. 
 The decenter men scowled, but as each man 
 must by the standards which prevail in camps, 
 fight his own fight and the weaker suffer, they 
 remained silent. 
 
 "This fun has gone far enough," Dukane re- 
 marked briskly one evening when he found 
 Spencer wiping a gory nose which had been 
 smacked in one of Lantry's playful cuffs. 
 "We'll teach this rude person that he must have 
 manners ; let us light our tobacco and think of 
 many painful things we can provide for him." 
 Whereupon he pulled out his blackened clay 
 pipe with broken-off stem and sat himself down 
 by Hop Spencer. 
 
 The upshot of putting their heads together 
 was a surprise for Lantry when next he ap- 
 proached that quarter for diversion. A white 
 chalk mark was drawn around the bunks of the
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 63 
 
 pair. Dukane pointed a finger at it and in- 
 formed the bully that if he crossed that dead- 
 line there would be war that would make Get- 
 tysburg look like a slap on the wrist. He and 
 Spencer each meanwhile grasped a weapon, 
 namely, a wagon-wheel spoke a sound, solid, 
 skull-smashing, rib-cracking, respect-inspiring 
 instrument of defence. 
 
 "What have you got to do with this, you 
 grease-fed kid?" Lantry roared, with an ex- 
 treme expansion of temper. 
 
 "Step over that line and see," Jimmy in- 
 vited, testing his club as a batsman balances his 
 bat before an opposing pitcher. "We have 
 mixed medicine, we have danced a war-dance, 
 we have killed a pig and drunk of its blood, and 
 we are now blood-brothers. Come into our 
 lodge and get your skin nailed to a post." 
 
 "Come on, come on, you bully!" Spencer 
 squealed, with a sudden new ardor. 
 
 By this time the room had crowded round. 
 A dozen voices offered encouragement, shouted 
 to "go it boys" and stick up for their rights. 
 Out-numbered and out-faced, Lantry glared 
 about, uttered a curse and retired threatening 
 dire punishments. 
 
 "The first victory is ours," Jimmy remarked,
 
 - A V- 
 
 64 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 \ 
 shoving his club under his pillow, "but 'We'll 
 
 have to march together hereafter, Hop, two and 
 two, like the animals entering the Ark.*' "i , 
 
 Time passed until Dukane had been in .Sil- 
 ver Peak Basin three weeks. He swelled with 
 food, knowledge of concrete and independence. 
 He was very confident that he could build a 
 dam himself, with perhaps the help of a sur- 
 veyor. Day by day he taught his gang their, 
 duty to the mixer ; he visited Callahan in the lit- 
 tle hospital and told him tales of the dam and 
 of many other things until that now one-armed 
 ex-foreman awaited his coming as a child longs 
 for its mother. To his listener Jimmy de- 
 nounced the system of the camp rock-crush- 
 ing, grinding, transporting, dumping, carpen- 
 tering, blasting, building until Callahan's 
 eyes twinkled. 
 
 "It's very wise you've grown in a fortnight," 
 said he. 
 
 "So I have there is nothing more for me to 
 learn," was the brazen rejoinder. 
 
 "What it's taken the rest of us poor devils, 
 chief, assistant, down to Casey and me, years 
 to learn." 
 
 "That shows that I'm an unusual man." 
 
 "You're a damned swelled-up kid. Next
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 65 
 
 thing you'll be driving off the whole camp and 
 buildin' the dam with just your own two little 
 hands." 
 
 "I would need a shoveler perhaps." 
 
 Many things he did not know about the 
 work, but he did not know that he knew not. 
 Ideas surged and overflowed in his mind now 
 if he were running things! He one day but- 
 ton-holed the assistant-engineer with whom the 
 chief had been talking on the occasion when he 
 had offered his suggestion about moving lum- 
 ber along the cable in slings. 
 
 "What's your name?" he inquired, keeping 
 forefinger firmly hooked in the other's button- 
 hole. 
 
 In astonishment the stooped, studious engi- 
 neer answered that it was Satterfield. 
 
 "All right. Now, Satterfield, why don't you 
 fellows who're trying to build this dam use 
 steel frames for the molds instead of lumber. 
 Any person with his eyes open would know that 
 they would be twice as convenient." 
 
 "Convenient possibly, but how about the 
 cost? Do you know that such frames as you 
 mention would be expensive to manufacture, 
 transport, erect, besides being a dead loss when 
 the work was finished? And meanwhile, my
 
 66 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 young friend, kindly remove your finger from 
 my lapel." 
 
 But Dukane persisted. 
 
 "There are a lot of things that you chaps 
 don't handle right " he began. 
 
 Satterfield, however, had neither time nor 
 disposition to tolerate further impertinence 
 from the youth. He firmly removed Jim- 
 my's finger, turned about without speech and 
 walked away. 
 
 "Perhaps I addressed him too abruptly," 
 Dukane soliloquized. 
 
 His second Sunday he spent in scrambling 
 over the dam, peeking into the flood-tunnels, 
 examining the concrete frames and staring up 
 at the towering cranes. Finally he stepped 
 forth upon a scaffolding that clung to the face 
 of the dam, where after a time he sat down to 
 smoke and reflect. Below him a considerable 
 distance the stream escaped from a gate, rush- 
 ing in foam and spume among boulders, like a 
 width of tossing white lace, until it disappeared 
 behind a protruding ledge of rock; over him 
 reared pine crested cliffs; in his ears was the 
 steady, persistent, murmurous roar of sound 
 which echoed between the walls. 
 
 The scaffolding on which he had posted him-
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 67 
 
 self ran along the top of the dam, but now as he 
 sat swinging his feet over the gulf, his head 
 was below the wall and he was invisible to any- 
 one who stood a pace or two back from the 
 edge. Owing to this circumstance he became 
 an eavesdropper, at first inadvertent, then de- 
 liberate, of a conversation which partook of a 
 more or less confidential character. At the 
 speaker's first utterance he was about to an- 
 nounce himself with a loud "ahem!" or some 
 similar warning in the conventional form that 
 is employed in apprising others of one's pres- 
 ence, when his thoughts took another angle. 
 Was he not here to learn all he could about the 
 dam? And the subject being discussed by the 
 unseen persons certainly applied to the dam. 
 Jimmy perceived his duty. He would get by 
 stealth what he could get in no other way, even 
 if the method hardly comported with what is 
 popularly supposed to be the mode of a gentle- 
 man, but only of a shoveler with which soph- 
 istry he stretched his ears to their longest. 
 
 The two assistant-engineers who had stopped 
 near him were the talkers. 
 
 "Mighty peculiar," said Leschelles, the 
 freckled-faced young fellow. 
 
 "Peculiar is not strong enough extraordi-
 
 68 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 nary's the word," the other, Satterfield, said 
 slowly. "Did you ever see a dam built in such 
 a fashion before?" 
 
 "No, can't say that I have. But then, I've 
 not seen a tremendous lot of them, you know." 
 
 "You don't have to see them, for you know 
 the theory." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Silence followed for a time. 
 
 "It's a box, or will be, filled with rubbish," 
 Satterfield went on. 
 
 "Must have struck the office as a queer thing. 
 Who do you suppose could have planned such a 
 mess? Certainly no one who knew anything 
 about strains. Maybe it will hold awhile, but 
 some day when there's a cloud-burst or any 
 rush of water, it'll crumple up like cardboard." 
 
 "That's it, and people will want to know then 
 who built it." 
 
 "That's the deuce of it," rejoined the 
 younger, in an uncomfortable tone. "Dukane 
 will have to bear the disagreeable responsibility 
 and through the Company the rest of us. What 
 strikes me as more extraordinary even than the 
 dam is that the Company should undertake a 
 job they knew was rotten." 
 
 "Money's a big incentive nowadays."
 
 DUKANE IN FETTERS 69 
 
 "Old Man Dukane has a reputation for hon- 
 est work. It will be a big sweep when she goes 
 bondholders ruined, farmers without 
 water, oh, it's bad! I wish I were somewhere 
 else." 
 
 Satterfield evidently stood a time in thought. 
 At last he said: "I've taken it up with the 
 chief two or three times, but he's pretty short. 
 'Specifications are specifications/ he stated, 
 'and it isn't our business to question them if 
 they constitute the kind of dam the builders 
 want.' And there are the specifications; you 
 are familiar with them." 
 
 "Familiar I'm sick of them ! Such a botch 
 is enough to make anybody sick. I've half a 
 notion to ask the inspector when he comes 
 round what under heaven those capitalists mean 
 by throwing together such a flimsy affair." 
 
 "That is hardly our business, you know," 
 Satterfield suggested. 
 
 Dukane sat with growing eyes. One thing 
 he knew, if he did not know anything else, and 
 that was the stiff pride his father took in the se- 
 curity, the solidarity of the Company's concrete 
 construction. If the works broke, his heart 
 would break with them. 
 
 "What can we do then?" Leschelles inquired.
 
 70 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Jimmy could imagine the tall, stooped, elder 
 man wiping his glasses in perplexity. 
 
 "I don't know," he admitted, in the end. 
 "Well, let's go back to the house or over to 
 Miss Enid's or somewhere, and not let this 
 project haunt us before the deed as well as 
 after." 
 
 One round eye above the edge of the para- 
 pet, the eavesdropper watched their figures de- 
 part, pass off upon the road and descend to the 
 camp. Then he sprang up on the dam to in- 
 vestigate. Strange he had never noticed the 
 thing before, or possibly it was because he did 
 not yet know quite all that was to be known 
 about the construction of dams. But it was a 
 fact that between the walls lay loose rubble of 
 stone. In one place a coating of concrete faced 
 it over thinly. 
 
 "Shoddy, very shoddy," the youth remarked 
 aloud. "It's a good thing I'm on the job."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE BESULT OF A SHOT 
 
 A S the noon whistle blew Dukane straight- 
 ** ened from the mixing machine which he 
 had been examining for a defect and flung a 
 glance about. A girl on horseback, the same 
 girl whom he had seen for an instant pass- 
 ing on the afternoon of his coming to Sil- 
 ver Peak Basin, was riding on the opposite 
 side of the river. Her pony paced slowly 
 along the road and she gazed with mild interest 
 at the dam, then with a whinny her mount 
 suddenly pulled its head in the direction of the 
 stream. So she permitted the animal to turn 
 aside and drink. It was a pretty picture. 
 The pony stood with forefeet in the water, 
 head lowered. Behind the rider the red- 
 dish-black rock towered high; the river flowed 
 in swift, glancing light, curving and undu- 
 lating smoothly over stones, or flashing into 
 myriad diamonds ; and she sat motionless, med- 
 itative, a golden kerchief about her neck, look- 
 
 71
 
 72 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 ing down at the current. Jimmy barely noted 
 that his men had gone, that the mixer was si- 
 lent, that the workmen were streaming down 
 from the dam on the south bank and moving to 
 dinner. 
 
 When the pony had satisfied its thirst it 
 scrambled up the stones and back upon the 
 road, to continue an ascent of the incline. He 
 sighed ; he felt himself all at once swept by im- 
 mense desolation, by sad tenderness. If he 
 had been James Dukane, junior, he could have 
 found a way to make the acquaintance of this 
 lovely girl ; he would perhaps have been at this 
 very minute riding by her side. But he was 
 only Hemple, who carried one eye yet black- 
 and-blue and a cut on his forehead. Again he 
 sighed, this time profoundly. He was an un- 
 fortunate youth ; fate had indeed buffeted him 
 cruelly. A third sigh emanated from the same 
 source whence had arisen the others his dusty 
 bosom. And he yearningly watched the girl 
 and pony as they reached the end of the road 
 over the dam. She pushed her timorous mount 
 close up to the yawning chasm and so, poised 
 like a sculptured figure, sat looking down un- 
 afraid into the depths. 
 
 Noon the noon shot ! A thrill of fear ran
 
 THE RESULT OF A SHOT 73 
 
 through Jimmy, for it was always but a few 
 minutes after the whistle, when the workmen 
 were withdrawn, that the charges planted in 
 the rough sides of the walls were fired. For a 
 week the dynamiters had been shooting away 
 the cliff beside her. A wild yell burst from 
 his lips, he bounded toward the little footbridge 
 which spanned the stream as if he had been at- 
 tached to and galvanized by the wire which 
 conveyed the detonating current of those self- 
 same dynamite charges. His feet skimmed the 
 earth, his legs flew, his teeth set. Up the in- 
 clining road he sped. As he neared the spot 
 where she sat in blissful ignorance, he cast one 
 frantic look over his shoulder, as if somehow he 
 could in that way measure the brief interval 
 which remained. Workmen had seen him; he 
 heard a shout from the camp. One man was 
 running towards the power-plant. With fierce 
 face in which an empurpled eye glared demon- 
 like, he sprang to the pony and forced it back 
 from the brink, then began dragging it down 
 the road. 
 
 The pony had feelings and ideas of propri- 
 ety. A rude person had disturbed its contem- 
 plation, therefore it attempted to sit down 
 upon its haunches. The girl screamed.
 
 74. THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Come, for Heaven's sake, come! " he cried. 
 
 "Let me go, let me go!" she shrieked vigor- 
 ously, eyes darting flames. 
 
 "I won't you'll be killed," he shouted, en- 
 raged. 
 
 And taking a quick step he caught her round 
 the waist, dragged her struggling from the sad- 
 dle and bore her in tumultuous triumph around 
 a jut of rock. 
 
 Boom! went a shot. A cloud of dust and 
 stones sprayed up in a geyser against the cliff 
 wall and out over the chasm. A piece of rock 
 as large as a man's head rolled to their very 
 feet. Boom boom boom! they exploded, 
 one after another. The pony, struck on the 
 hind quarters by a flying fragment, tore madly 
 past them, while the roll of the dynamite thun- 
 der went thumping and bumping down the 
 gorge. 
 
 To Dukane the situation had nothing of the 
 romantic in it. Dust, a wild turmoil in his 
 arms, and a deep burning scratch on his cheek 
 seemed to comprise the chief elements of the 
 event so far as he was concerned. He regard- 
 ed his companion and reached for his blue ban- 
 dana handkerchief, for blood was dripping 
 from his chin. In every affair in which he was
 
 THE RESULT OF A SHOT 75 
 
 engaged, he reflected, he suffered with singular 
 fatality upon the face. As for the girl whom 
 he had rescued, she was a vixen. 
 
 "How dare you!" she cried, drawing back 
 and tugging desperately at her gauntlets. 
 
 "I'll never dare again," he replied shortly. 
 "Still it seemed easier than going down and 
 picking you up out of the river." 
 
 "You dreadful creature ! When Tom might 
 have jumped and dashed me to death!" 
 
 "Or backed up and sat down with you inside 
 the wall." 
 
 "But to pull me off!" 
 
 "Leisurely discussion would of course have 
 been more gallant," said he, ironically. 
 
 "I thought you some villain you're not?" 
 
 "No, Miss, only an honest workingman dis- 
 guised as one." 
 
 "You don't talk like either.'* 
 
 Jimmy paused, patted his cheek with his 
 handkerchief, then gazed at it contemplatively. 
 
 "My good heart's blood it is," said he. 
 
 She came a step nearer. 
 
 "Did I do that?" 
 
 "No, indeed, it was some fluttering angel." 
 
 "Nonsense, I made that scratch." 
 
 He showed one of his flashing smiles. "It's
 
 76 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 a good one of its kind. Now you had best go 
 back. Tommy, if that's his name, is standing 
 at the foot of the hill casting reproachful 
 glances at you." 
 
 She started to go, then stopped. For Jimmy 
 was accompanying her, walking quite at home 
 by her side. 
 
 "Thank you, very much, for your service," 
 she said stiffly and dismissingly. "I want you 
 to feel that I am grateful and sorry for the 
 scratch." 
 
 "It's merely one of my collection. I'll catch 
 Tommy for you." 
 
 Now was the young lady of the bright eyes 
 and lovely face visibly embarrassed. In her 
 mind an immense social gulf, wide and deep as 
 the chasm from which she had just been drawn 
 back, yawned between her and the camp labor- 
 ers; she had ignored the very existence of the 
 common men, recognizing only the boss driver, 
 the storekeeper, doctor, the superintendent, and 
 his two assistants, yet what could she say to this 
 young laborer; and as they proceeded she im- 
 agined what her father's astonishment would 
 have been he a relic of the proud South had 
 he observed them together. Relief, then 
 amusement, took possession of her, for she per-
 
 THE RESULT OF A SHOT 77 
 
 ceived that the young fellow only meant to con- 
 vey courtesy. Imagine then how immediately 
 her mind received a shock. 
 
 "Won't you come and be rescued every 
 day?" he asked. 
 
 A quizzical wrinkle marked her brow ; finally 
 she bubbled into laughter. He was gazing at 
 her with inquiring, sparkling, mischievous eyes. 
 Really he was not bad looking, though sadly 
 marred curly black hair, white teeth, clear 
 brown skin and round boyish head, so round a 
 head it seemed about to pop open like a steam- 
 filled apple. Indeed, he was only a boy, 
 though a saucy one. 
 
 "The idea! That would be rather exhaust- 
 ing, to go through this day after day." 
 
 "We could have the scene put on as a thriller 
 for moving picture shows." And as he caught 
 the pony's head, "Here is Pegasus who would 
 have flown away with you." 
 
 "Pegasus, where did you ever hear that 
 name?" she asked, surprised. 
 
 Jimmy beamed with fond recollection: "I 
 rode Pegasus through a university and was 
 often bucked off." 
 
 Enid Crofton stared at him with new- 
 kindled interest.
 
 78 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "You a university man!" 
 
 "I have that noble honor," Dukane rejoined, 
 sweeping the ground with his punctured hat 
 in an elaborate bow. "Appearances are 
 against the belief. But I am so stuff ed with 
 knowledge that I feel like a sausage. Listen, 
 here is poetry that a Literature professor once 
 made me memorize for my sins : 
 
 'And Enid heard the clashing of his fall, 
 Suddenly came, and at his side all pale 
 Dismounting loosed the fastenings of his arms, 
 Nor let her true hand falter, nor blue eye 
 Moisten, till she had lighted on his wound, 
 And tearing off her veil of faded silk 
 Had bared her forehead to the blistering sun 
 And swathed the hurt that drained her dear lord's life.' " 
 
 Amazed, the girl listened to him mouth the 
 rolling lines. Whether she would presently 
 lapse into a hysteria of shrieks of laughter she 
 could not guess; the ridiculousness of it, the 
 prodigious impudence stupefied her and stirred 
 her wonder. To have quoted so neatly the 
 passage of Tennyson's Idylls! She stood 
 struggling, finally mastered her emotion and 
 averting her face, swung into the saddle. 
 
 He clutched the bridle, wrapped his fingers 
 in it firmly.
 
 THE RESULT OF A SHOT 79 
 
 "Am I never to see you again?" he cried. 
 
 "Why, you may see me riding around the 
 valley any day." 
 
 Dukane shook the bridle with impetuous 
 fervor, until Tommy, the pony, snapped at 
 him in high displeasure. 
 
 "The valley! I don't want merely to see 
 you, I want to talk to you." 
 
 She gazed down at him. A smile crept 
 upon her lips; truly he was just a boy, not 
 much older than herself. What a disreputa- 
 ble, charming vagabond he was! He had 
 broken the monotony of her tranquil life, 
 flashed like a bright beam across the dull ex- 
 istence of Silver Peak Basin. If but what 
 would her father say! 
 
 Jimmy slowly let go the bridle and stepped 
 back. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Miss Crofton," said he 
 slowly. 
 
 She noted a wistful loneliness in his eyes, 
 and yielded. "There's our house yonder," 
 she pointed a finger. "Father would be glad, 
 I'm sure, to thank you for saving me from a 
 possible accident." 
 
 The sound of feet hurrying up the stony 
 bank of the stream came to their ears ; Dukane
 
 80 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 glanced about with a face full of annoyance. 
 It was the chief engineer, deuce take the chief 1 
 He had been informed of Enid Crofton's mis- 
 adventure and was hurrying to assure himself 
 that no harm had touched her person. 
 
 "I'm glad you're safe," he exclaimed. "Was 
 this the fellow who helped you? Good work, 
 my man." With which curt acknowledgment 
 he turned a shoulder of dismissal on Dukane. 
 
 Flames of anger jumped upward and en- 
 circled Jimmy's heart. To be treated as if he 
 had saved a bucket of concrete from spilling, or 
 a team from running away, filled his youthful 
 breast with indignation to bursting. Then to 
 have Corbetson calmly appropriate the heroine 
 by virtue of his rank that exceeded what mor- 
 tal man could bear. With compressed lips, 
 Jimmy did not budge. Corbetson perceived 
 this, frowned. Thrusting a hand into his 
 pocket and drawing it forth he extended a 
 dollar towards the youth. Most shovelers 
 would have accepted it with stammered thanks ; 
 Jimmy looked at it aversely. 
 
 "I cannot accept tainted money," said he 
 offishly, putting his hands behind his back. 
 
 "Then get your time, you insolent dog," 
 Corbetson snapped.
 
 THE RESULT OF A SHOT 81 
 
 "You're not discharging him?" Enid Crof- 
 ton cried. 
 
 "Yes, he's an impudent, disturbing nui- 
 sance." 
 
 "Just when he's saved my life! I'll never 
 forgive you." 
 
 Corbetson swallowed his Adam's apple with- 
 out reply in an endeavor to lubricate this threat. 
 For Enid Crof ton was the third responsibility, 
 an uncertain one, which kept him tossing in un- 
 easy wakefulness of nights; his unhappy soul 
 had succumbed to her beauty and he lived from 
 day to day in a torment of hope and dread con- 
 cerning her favor. 
 
 "Go to your dinner, Hemple," he ordered 
 the grinning youth. 
 
 Jimmy went, waving an exulting hand at 
 the girl behind the superintending engineer's 
 back. 
 
 His heart had bounded, his horizon had 
 flashed with radiant light, at the indignant 
 protest she uttered. Curiously too he had 
 experienced an imperious demand during the 
 instant when he carried her to safety for fur- 
 ther acquaintance with this lovely young per- 
 son. She was vivacious was there not the 
 scratch upon his cheek to testify to it? And
 
 82 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 remarkably piquant, and possessed of a bloom 
 as fresh as that of a wild mountain rose. Her 
 spirits were abundant. Jimmy paused in his 
 march to the mess-house to rub the tip of his 
 nose and reflect how her toes had kicked in- 
 dustriously against his shins during his man- 
 ful rescue. When first he had seen her as he 
 rode beside Miller on the evening of his arrival, 
 it had been as a flashing vision. To-day there 
 had been no vision in this encounter, but throb- 
 bing reality. Jimmy had made the acquaint- 
 ance of many young ladies, none however so 
 spontaneous, so effective, so satisfactory, so 
 spectacular, so inspiring, so glorious as this 
 when dynamite shots were booming an accom- 
 paniment. It was quite up to the first act of 
 a melodrama; aye, he was the poor, ragged, 
 honest hero. That noon in the mess-house he 
 crammed himself with food and complacence. 
 
 Procrastination was not one in his category 
 of defects. In the store that evening, immedi- 
 ately after supper, he bought with lordly prodi- 
 gality new overalls, shirt, hat, shoes and a 
 bright red tie. 
 
 "Red is worn in the west, I believe," he 
 mused aloud, "besides it suits my mysterious, 
 Italian nobleman style of beauty."
 
 THE RESULT OF A SHOT 83 
 
 "It sets off that bum eye for a fact," Pen- 
 nick, the store keeper, jeered. "Want a coat?" 
 
 "I've heard that coats are favored among 
 the higher classes. Give me a coat no, not 
 too embonpoint, something slender and cut 
 princess. There, this will do." 
 
 "Only twelve dollars." 
 
 "Only! say you robber, you heartless vul- 
 ture, you hireling of a predatory corporation 
 that crushes the life out of laboring men and 
 drinks their blood! Twelve dollars for an 
 iron-hammered strait jacket that can be bought 
 anywhere on Eighth Street for two-twenty! 
 Merciful Jews, hide your compassionate faces ! 
 I'm going to sand-bag you some night for this 
 crime, Penuckle." 
 
 "You're now already ten days behind your 
 pay in your account." 
 
 Dukane groaned. "Is it possible for an 
 honest man to survive this world?" And pick- 
 ing up his bundle he returned to the mess- 
 house, where before the wondering eyes of the 
 men he proceeded to array himself like unto 
 Solomon. Baleful glances he shot at Lantry 
 who drew near in sneering admiration and he 
 silently placed his wagon-spoke in full view 
 and significantly ready, as at once did Hop
 
 84 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Spencer, sitting by in astonished silence at this 
 marvelous occurrence and this new dandy. 
 Finally a question from his awed lips invoked 
 a reply. 
 
 "I'm going forth unto dragons and strange 
 castles," Jimmy explained. "Guard well our 
 demesne, brother-knight, and henceforth call 
 me Geraint Hemple, brave Geraint." 
 
 Forth he strode, while all the men crowded 
 to the door. But the new knight only went 
 as far as the mixing plant where he surveyed 
 the valley. An amethyst light filled the hill- 
 rimmed cup, the soft and limpid light of early 
 evening; higher where the sunshine yet struck 
 the air there was a shining layer like a wave 
 of fine golden dust; below him the river flick- 
 ered in surfaces of dull shimmering gray; and 
 throughout the open basin the neighboring 
 gorge seemed to spread a murmurous, invisi- 
 ble veil of sound that cloaked all else with im- 
 minent hush. He looked up at the massive 
 peak which held the north; its black forests 
 seemed to glimmer as if made of chilled slag; 
 the crags and rocky cliffs, lofty, distant, crev- 
 iced, were tinted pink and lavender, while the 
 snow-clad peak itself was formed of glistening 
 silver.
 
 THE RESULT OF A SHOT 85 
 
 The picture was one such as he had seen on 
 canvasses in galleries or in the houses of 
 friends, which he had dismissed with the full 
 conviction that painters looked at things as 
 they were, then daubed them down as differ- 
 ently as possible. But now he realized there 
 existed a natural beauty, a transcendent illu- 
 sive spirit of color, which he had not hitherto 
 conceived. A majestic calm clothed Silver 
 Peak; peace lay on her little hills, calm and 
 peace sentient with brooding thought. "And 
 I, I am an insignificant ant on a stone looking 
 up at it all," mused he, all at once subdued. 
 
 The buildings composing the camp seemed 
 dwarfed by the upsweeping heights. Now 
 they were quiet, hushed. Yet they incased the 
 breath of endeavor, the undauntable will, the 
 indefatigable energy of insects like himself 
 that scuttled about in daylight and dug holes 
 in the earth and tore up huge rocks and fought 
 the hills and piled up masonry and changed 
 the face of mountains. Their bodies were in- 
 significant; their souls were god-like. His 
 father's was the directing hand and mind. He, 
 Dukane, junior, had never directed anything 
 larger than a motor car and that not always 
 scathlessly. Gazing up at the lofty, wide-
 
 86 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 spreading mountain, he seemed to see its snows 
 take on the semblance of his father's white 
 head, its bulk his familiar figure. He stared, 
 rubbing his eyes, against the illusion. 
 
 "Is that you, governor? Don't crush me. 
 I've swung a shovel like a man," he exclaimed 
 half -seriously, half -jestingly. 
 
 Presently he jumped up, looking along the 
 road that led to Crofton's. Thither went four 
 men, Corbetson and the doctor and some 
 distance behind them the two assistant-en- 
 gineers. 
 
 "Droves, droves of 'em," Jimmy lamented. 
 "They'll fill up the whole place and I'll never 
 get a word alone with her." He sat down 
 again much dissatisfied. "And I've earned it 
 well, let them stick. I'll smoke out the 
 dragon. Hemple will throw his castor into the 
 ring with Big Chief, the little chiefs, doctor 
 and all. I'll bet a January freeze will come 
 over Corbetson when he sees his crawling slave 
 march upon the stage and step into the spot- 
 light. And he was going to fire me I Bless 
 his shriveled up little heart and bless her big 
 one. When the society play is well started, 
 then James will take a run and a jump and 
 land in the middle. Enid! There's a name
 
 THE RESULT OF A SHOT 87 
 
 I've loved all my life and never knew it. Now 
 let's couch spear and gallop to the fray." 
 
 The road pursued the general course whence 
 came the stream, sometimes skirting its bushy 
 bank, again taking a short cut across a loop, 
 until it reached the cluster of buildings. The 
 large white-painted house, a chimney at each 
 end marking it characteristically southern in 
 style, and with a broad veranda running the 
 length of one side, stood screened by trees from 
 the bunk-house, barns, long sheds and corrals. 
 A brook but a hundred feet away ran fast to 
 the river, a clipped lawn spread in front and a 
 graveled walk and a roadway ran up to the 
 dwelling from an entrance gate. 
 
 A sudden silence fell upon the group on 
 the veranda as he approached. Enid Crofton 
 came a step forward to receive him, though 
 with a quick tinge of color. 
 
 "You are commendably prompt, Mr. Hem- 
 pie is not that your name?" she greeted, put- 
 ting forth a hand. Then turning to a tanned, 
 straight-backed man, with gray sweeping 
 mustache, "This is the gentleman, father, 
 who rescued me." 
 
 "You're very welcome/' said he, hospitably 
 shaking hands, "and have placed me under
 
 88 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 obligations." He scanned the scratch, the 
 cut upon Jimmy's brow, the one eye yet par- 
 tially discolored, but made no comment. 
 "Your name is Hemple?" 
 
 "Hempledinkle was the name I was called 
 then Hempledink I have finally abbrevi- 
 ated it to Hemple Geraint Hemple." 
 
 Crofton eyed him curiously, then placed a 
 seat for him. At the Christian name which the 
 youth pronounced a fresh wave of color suf- 
 fused the girl's cheeks and she turned for a 
 moment aside, struggling to conceal her mirth. 
 
 "Both names are euphonious," she remarked. 
 "Do you abbreviate your surname at will?" 
 
 "According to exigencies." 
 
 "These gentlemen you know them?" 
 
 "Their names, but we've never met socially. 
 Between sunrise and sunset I am only one end 
 of a shovel; our spheres are different. My 
 sphere is really the barrel of the mixing-ma- 
 chine." 
 
 "Come, come, Hemple," the round little doc- 
 tor chirped. "No nonsense. We all know 
 you. Why, Miss Crofton, he's half-nursed 
 one of my patients to health, a big fellow who 
 lost an arm. Know him, of course I know 
 him!"
 
 THE RESULT OF A SHOT 89 
 
 A rill of gratitude for the medico trickled 
 in Jimmy's breast. 
 
 "Oh, we all know Hemple," the younger 
 assistant laughed. "He keeps us from grow- 
 ing stupid." 
 
 Dukane shot him a deadly glance, but seeing 
 that the young fellow, Leschelles by name, was 
 grinning good naturedly, relented. The other, 
 the stoop-shouldered, studious one, wiped his 
 eye glasses and also smiled friendlily. But 
 Corbetson apparently was not inspired to cordi- 
 ality by one of his laborers playing the gentle- 
 man on Crofton's veranda and he held his 
 peace. 
 
 The conversation drifted to other subjects. 
 Corbetson and Crofton discussed the dam, the 
 doctor and the first assistant and Enid chatted 
 together, while Leschelles conversed with Du- 
 kane. The younger assistant was a short, 
 chunky person not much older than himself, 
 freckled, homely, friendly and with short- 
 clipped, reddish hair, for whom Jimmy at once 
 felt an instinctive liking. 
 
 "You're from the east," the assistant said, 
 "I can tell by your accent. And this is your 
 first whack at this kind of work, isn't it? 
 Tough go on an unseasoned fellow. Haven't
 
 90 
 
 been at it so long myself. Miss Crofton in 
 speaking of her adventure mentioned that you 
 had been to college. Must be learning the 
 business from the ground up in the manner 
 rich old codgers are always solemnly declar- 
 ing we young chaps should do." 
 
 "Well, no, I was taken into captivity by 
 force, dragged here snarling by Miller and am 
 kept by force in the cage." 
 
 "We're all more or less in a cage here, but 
 I like it." 
 
 "That," Dukane responded sententiously, 
 "is because you don't swing a shovel." 
 
 "You're out of the shovel class yourself now, 
 being a foreman." 
 
 Enid Crofton presently drew the two youths 
 into the group which she dominated. 
 
 "We're planning a climb up Silver Peak." 
 
 "Some Sunday, just a scamper up and 
 back," Satterfield, the first assistant, remarked 
 pleasantly. 
 
 "Not to the top of course, those rocks would 
 take Alpine guides." 
 
 "Begin to save your breath, Doctor," Les- 
 chelles chuckled. 
 
 "Count me out of any such expedition, I'm 
 too fat."
 
 THE RESULT OF A SHOT 91 
 
 "We must draw the line at Hemple," the 
 first assistant remarked. "He had his turn 
 to-day. Once is enough, give the rest of us a 
 chance at rescue work. Here, all of us have 
 hung about on tip-toe all summer " 
 
 "Hung on tip-toe is indeed acrobatic," 
 Jimmy interjected. 
 
 "And nothing ever happened. Young 
 man," said Satterfield, "you now have four 
 bitter enemies against you in the tournament 
 for Miss Crofton's favor. Success, your suc- 
 cess, has stirred our rage. It was bad enough 
 before, now I feel particularly malignant." 
 He polished his eye glasses and set them on 
 his nose. 
 
 "Perhaps it's because I have system," Jimmy 
 retorted, and no one knew why Satterfield 
 burst into laughter. 
 
 The moon had risen and was flooding the 
 basin with light. Mr. Crofton was telling a 
 story of other times in the south and mean- 
 while Jimmy skilfully maneuvered until he 
 sat beside the girl. The story came to an end, 
 conversation broke forth. 
 
 Suddenly she said to him in a low voice : 
 
 "What is your right name? I know it's not 
 Hemple."
 
 92 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Jimmy considered. Mystery is always fas- 
 cinating to a woman; he would continue to be 
 a mystery. 
 
 "I dare not tell." 
 
 "Are you afraid to go back?'* 
 
 "Go back where?" he demanded, in turn sur- 
 prised. 
 
 "To New York you inadvertently men- 
 tioned it, spoke of it familiarly." 
 
 "I've been to New York." 
 
 "And you've been to college also, so " 
 She significantly left the inference unfinished. 
 
 "The police are not after me or wait, per- 
 haps they are !" 
 
 For he recollected with a start that James 
 A. Dukane, junior, had been a considerable 
 while vanished, swallowed up. Dukane senior, 
 had probably returned from Europe; there 
 would be neither letter nor numerous cashed 
 checks awaiting him, which would have been 
 under normal circumstances the surest way of 
 locating Jimmy's whereabouts. Three weeks 
 and no money drawn; three weeks' subsistence 
 on the hundred dollars received at San Fran- 
 cisco an impossible feat for Jimmy! The 
 governor would be distinctly worried; he too 
 would have a mystery. And perhaps, as had
 
 THE RESULT OF A SHOT 93 
 
 flashed through the youth's mind, the police 
 of many cities would be at work on this case. 
 Perhaps even now the newspapers printed 
 long, illustrated articles on the son's weird dis- 
 appearance. They would ask if he had been 
 stolen like another, but grown-up, Charlie 
 Ross. He had been kidnapped in truth by 
 one, a certain Miller. 
 
 "You're concealing something," she said, 
 "unless the explanation is that you have no 
 money." 
 
 "Right, first guess." 
 
 "That's not all, there's something more. A 
 gentleman would not need to shovel crushed 
 rock like a laborer in order to earn a living. 
 There are different ways. If the reason is 
 nothing discreditable " 
 
 "Not to me." 
 
 "Then why do you go under the name of 
 Hemple?" she asked, impatiently. 
 
 "Because I've lost my other," he answered. 
 
 "I see, you're ashamed of it." 
 
 "On the other hand, it's ashamed of me. 
 We're really progressing into an acquaintance, 
 aren't we?" 
 
 She drew back as if stung. The rudeness 
 of what she had been asking swept over her 
 in a mortifying flush. Her eyes filled with
 
 94 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 angry tears anger at him, at herself; and she 
 thanked heaven that the shadow in which she 
 sat did not permit this youthful stranger to 
 see her face. She was furious with herself, 
 though longing for words to crush him. Even 
 to Corhetson who had been uneasily trying to 
 nerve himself to draw her away from the im- 
 pudent Hemple she turned with relief. Never, 
 never, never would she again ask the young 
 fellow's name! Or, at least, ask it of him! 
 
 It was ten o'clock when the five men made 
 their farewells. Enid and her father walked 
 as far as the gate with them. 
 
 "You must come again, Mr. Hemple," the 
 rancher cordially invited. 
 
 "I will, with pleasure." 
 
 "And in those blue overalls too, I suppose," 
 Corbetson said unpleasantly, for the doctor's 
 ear alone. 
 
 "I suppose so, seeing he can't come very 
 well without them." Which did not at all 
 satisfy the engineer, who from the first had 
 been furious at the reception given Hemple by 
 the other men, a recognition of equality. He 
 was the more provoked when the young fellow 
 said familiarly as they strolled down the road: 
 
 "Fine moon that, chief."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 
 
 * < V7"OU'RE sure you can drive?" ques- 
 
 * tioned Miller. 
 
 "I can tool six horses like Alfred V. him- 
 self," Dukane announced, settling himself in 
 the wagon-seat and clutching the long reins. 
 
 In the come and go of workmen the oppor- 
 tunity for a shift into Miller's gang had quickly 
 arisen. To be sure he had lost the dignity 
 which enswathed a foreman, but that was only 
 a humble garment after all, and so with a last 
 admonitory whack upon the Austrian's ribs he 
 had turned over to his successor his truncheon 
 of office and ascended a freight wagon. The 
 pay was the same ; he was, however, too deeply 
 sunk in the sticky mire of debt to give the sub- 
 ject of wages more than a fleeting thought. 
 What the feel of money was like he had for- 
 gotten. On the other hand he had sighted the 
 possibilities of credit and hence had peace of 
 mind. Of his skill with horses he was optimis- 
 
 95
 
 96 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 tic; disastrous experience he had once had driv- 
 ing in his free and careless days in the east, 
 after which he swore bv automobiles ; but time 
 
 7 
 
 softens misfortunes and restores confidence. 
 
 He neatly unfolded his long whip, mean- 
 while keeping a commanding hand upon his 
 steeds, and swung the lash in a loud, resound- 
 ing crack. Instantly the animals rose in a 
 tugging, plunging mass, chains rattling, heads 
 flaring, hoofs striking. Miller ran to the 
 leaders, pulled them down. 
 
 "You fool!" he roared. "Put away that 
 whip." 
 
 Dukane acceded to the request. 
 
 "They will do," said he, "they have spirit." 
 
 "Here, Perley, you lead. This young devil 
 will wreck the whole outfit if someone isn't 
 driving ahead of him," Miller ordered. 
 
 Dukane thus locked in the midst of the 
 string of half a dozen freight wagons must 
 content himself to hold his reins and accom- 
 modate himself to the speed of the man ahead. 
 Each outfit comprised six horses and two 
 wagons hooked together, the one in the rear 
 with its short sawed-off tongue thrust beneath 
 the bed of the former. A chained block 
 dragged at a rear wheel of each to check the
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 97 
 
 wagon from slipping back when halted part 
 way up a climb; and heavy brakes served to 
 regulate speed on steep descents. As the 
 freighters passed the Crofton ranch house 
 basking in the early morning sunshine Jimmy 
 waved a hand to attract the attention of a girl 
 standing in the yard, receiving an answering 
 wave. 
 
 "Does she know who it is," he questioned of 
 himself, "or was her response only a general 
 recognition?" 
 
 From the top of the ridge where they pres- 
 ently paused, a magnificent prospect of moun- 
 tains on either hand and of wide level plains 
 in front opened before the youth's eyes. In 
 the morning sunlight the brown earth seemed 
 turned to gold, unbroken save for the thread 
 of the telephone line stretching across it until 
 lost. As the balmy air filled his lungs, as his 
 mind expanded in harmony with the spacious- 
 ness of the picture, he experienced not only a 
 buoyancy of spirits but a keen satisfaction with 
 himself and the world. Just to be here up on 
 this high seat holding the six reins and con- 
 trolling the destiny of the team and wagon, 
 just to be able to swing the long-lashed whip 
 with a resounding crack, to feel his blood
 
 98 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 bounding in his body, to be a free and living 
 part of the glorious morning, all gave him a 
 new and hearty exhilaration. When their ad- 
 vance began down the hill to an accompani- 
 ment of shrilling brakes and jingling harness- 
 iron it seemed to be with a rude, barbaric kind 
 of music. "Yo-ho, yip, yo-ho !" he shouted, un- 
 able to restrain his spirits. 
 
 Over the plain they made good time, for the 
 road was hard and smooth, and by noon their 
 wagons were loaded with cement, coal, pro- 
 visions. This done, Jimmy skipped into the 
 depot. 
 
 "Know me?" he cried to the station master's 
 wife. 
 
 "You are " pausing, she scrutinized him 
 with her clear eyes, then exclaimed, "my 
 tramp." 
 
 "Yes, your tramp. But I've reformed and 
 become a teamster the best one Miller has, 
 though he doesn't know it. How's the kid- 
 die?" He reached down and poked a finger 
 into the youngster's chubby side till the boy 
 gurgled with laughter. "You see, Miller cap- 
 tured and took me out to camp," he went on, 
 "and made me into a respectable citizen. All 
 because of your kindness and coffee."
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 99 
 
 "Why, you don't look the same person." 
 
 "I'm not," he grinned, "my name's Hemple 
 now." 
 
 "What was it before?" 
 
 "That's a secret I can't tell you. Well, 
 good-bye, I must be off to dinner. I'll see 
 you often from this on." 
 
 During the meal Dukane, who had come in 
 late and in consequence had been forced to sit 
 at another table from the rest of his compan- 
 ions, fell into conversation with a garrulous old 
 man who asked him many questions about him- 
 self, with comments upon the answers. 
 
 "That cement you're haulin', that Red Shield 
 Brand, used to be made right over the hill 
 yonder," said he. 
 
 "How can that be?" Jimmy inquired, one 
 cheek full of food. 
 
 "Old mill out there, which was the Roseland 
 Portland Cement Company. Not much good. 
 Never did much manufacturing because the 
 railroad wouldn't lay a spur over to it." 
 
 "But this cement is shipped in here." 
 
 "Then they've got another mill some'eres. 
 But no this is all there is to the Roseland 
 Company, I reckon, for Andy Roseland sunk 
 what little money he had in it and I never
 
 100 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 heard he got a dollar out. Don't try to tell me 
 anything about this mill, for I helped build it 
 five years ago." 
 
 He spoke with an old man's insistence, look- 
 ing balef ully at the young fellow whom he im- 
 agined sought to dispute his statement. 
 
 "Where is this man Roseland now?" 
 
 "Over on Sand Creek got a little ranch." 
 And he went on to discuss the man with much 
 multiplicity of detail, mentioning also that 
 Sand Creek was twenty miles west of Crof- 
 ton's ranch. 
 
 Dukane went forth not much wiser. The 
 recollection of the station agent shifting ce- 
 ment from blue-printed bags to ones red- 
 printed recurred to him with singular per- 
 tinacity. Was that the manner in which the 
 Red Shield brand was manufactured? And 
 in a freight car? On the other hand, if a 
 business injury to the Corson Company which 
 put out the blue bags was being perpetrated 
 that company would certainly know of it and 
 fight back. 
 
 "At any rate I'll look into this old mill one 
 of these days," said he. 
 
 The opportunity was not long in presenting 
 itself. At the order of Miller he awaited one
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 101 
 
 day the arrival of an afternoon train to receive 
 and carry out a number of machinery parts 
 which should arrive by express. When the 
 other wagons had departed he stood a long time 
 in thought, for now he discovered that he had 
 many matters to engage him; and as he had 
 two or three hours unoccupied he resolved to 
 employ the time in an examination of the mys- 
 terious mill. He set off on his search, but at 
 the top of the first knoll he halted anew; for 
 the old man from whom he had acquired the 
 information had been extremely vague when 
 he jerked his thumb south and said "over the 
 hill." As he considered the subject, he heard 
 a rush behind him and whirling about perceived 
 Enid Crofton galloping up on her pony. 
 
 "Why are you standing there with feet 
 spread out and a finger laid on your brow as if 
 you were a poet?" she exclaimed. 
 
 "I've lost a mill." 
 
 "A mill! Of all things! Mr. Miller was 
 right when he bade me look after you, saying 
 you would need watching. I came in for the 
 mail and I find you standing on a hill, looking 
 like a melancholy crow." 
 
 "Come help me find my mill." 
 
 "What mill?"
 
 102 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "An old cement mill." 
 
 "Why, it's yonder a little way," she an- 
 swered, and pointed her gloved hand, "but 
 don't get lost." 
 
 "The responsibility for my disappearance 
 will rest on you unless you guide me thither." 
 He took firm hold upon the pony's bridle. "I 
 must find this mill, or be unhappy." 
 
 "I'll show you. But what in the world you 
 want with that ramshackle old building I can't 
 guess. It's deserted and ready to tumble 
 down." 
 
 "I want to see it working." 
 
 "Ridiculous ! There hasn't been a stroke of 
 work done there for I don't know how long." 
 
 "Oh, do you think so? Come, we'll see." 
 
 Perplexed and curious she allowed her pony 
 to pace along by his side while he chattered 
 steadily of a hundred things. After passing 
 over not one hill but several, they struck into 
 a dim and vanishing road which she informed 
 him led from the mill back to Melton, which 
 in fact he should have followed in the first 
 place. The building was indeed ramshackle, 
 weather beaten, desolate. A chute led from 
 what was half-quarry, half-cave in the hillside, 
 where limestone had been taken out. A white
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 103 
 
 dump of waste lay before it, though now begin- 
 ning to be grass-grown. Over the padlocked 
 door was painted the name Roseland Cement 
 Company in white letters, partly obliterated 
 by rain and dust; the windows were broken, 
 through the apertures of which they gazed 
 upon a rubbish-strewn, empty floor to see 
 that the building had been stripped of ma- 
 chinery. They climbed up to the quarry, en- 
 tering into the space beneath the projecting 
 dirt roof. 
 
 "This is a wonderful cave, a magician's cave," 
 Dukane stated, enigmatically. 
 
 "Indeed, it doesn't look it. I imagine that 
 it shelters more coyotes than magicians." 
 
 He led her to the entrance and pointed at 
 the silent building. 
 
 "Can you keep a secret?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "And you'll never breathe a word to anyone 
 to his nibs, my chief, to the engineers, to the 
 doctor, to your father " 
 
 "Stop! If it's so terrible as that I better 
 not hear it." 
 
 She drew off a step towards where her pony 
 was tied to a bush. The youth had spoken in 
 a mysterious voice ; she thought she perceived a
 
 104 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 wild light in his eye there flashed through her 
 mind the question if he were mad. 
 
 "Very well, we'll return to town," said he. 
 
 "But what is it, what do you mean?" she 
 gasped, pulled two ways by astonishment and 
 curiosity. 
 
 "The secret but it will have to be kept si- 
 lent as the grave until I am ready." 
 
 "Secret till you're ready!" More and 
 more she was bewildered. 
 
 "For it's the secret of my life," said he. 
 
 He began to walk towards the building. 
 
 "Wait, you're most exasperating. Are you 
 in earnest? Have you a secret?" 
 
 "Several horrible ones." 
 
 "Tell me," she commanded. 
 
 "Promise ; hold up your hand and don't cross 
 your fingers." 
 
 With which solemn preliminary she prepared 
 herself to receive his mystery. 
 
 "Now," she breathed expectantly. 
 
 "It's this cave and building. My life is now 
 wrapped up in them, darkly and inexplicably. 
 As I told you this is a magician's cave." 
 
 "But the mystery?" 
 
 "Oh, that. Why, it lies in the fact that 
 abandoned as the place is, idle as it is, yet there
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 105 
 
 are one hundred sacks of cement made in it 
 every day." 
 
 She stared at him, then at the building, to 
 come at last back to him. Her look searched 
 his for latent signs of insanity; but his spar- 
 kling black eyes and chubby cheeks were far 
 from those of a demented person. 
 
 "What's the mystery?" 
 
 "That's it, how it's done." 
 
 "Your dark and inexplicable life " 
 
 "No, my life isn't that, but the secret of it 
 is that I've got to find out how it's done." 
 
 "You're hoaxing me," she cried, angrily. 
 
 "Hanged if lam!" 
 
 She swung up into her saddle. 
 
 "I don't think I like you and your little mys- 
 teries." 
 
 "There is really a secret," he exclaimed, ear- 
 nestly, "and I'm going to find it out." 
 
 But she made no answer, save to touch heel 
 to her pony and ride towards the trail which 
 led back to town. Jimmy raced after her cry- 
 ing out that she had brought him here and 
 therefore did not dare to leave him. Vexed, 
 indignant, at the same time choking back a 
 laugh, she knew not what to do with such an 
 absurd fellow. Meanwhile he had caught the
 
 106 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 pony's bridle once more, declaring that he was 
 not a person to be dropped at will in the sage 
 brush; and by the time they reached town the 
 absurdity of the whole affair had cleared her 
 brow. 
 
 "Here is the rest of the mystery," he said, 
 pointing to the freight car. 
 
 "Where?" she inquired lazily. 
 
 He led the pony to the car door. "Do you 
 see the name printed in red on those sacks? 
 That is the same as the one on the old mill." 
 
 "So it is," she answered, once more attentive. 
 
 "That's what I mean when I say there's a 
 hundred bags a day manufactured up there- 
 by ghosts. It's the same company." 
 
 "But look," she pointed towards the cement, 
 "this is shipped in." 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "Why, of course, from another mill." 
 
 "I think not, I'm sure not. That's the mys- 
 tery." 
 
 "What a crazy notion! Well, tell me when 
 you find out. Here's the train coming." 
 
 The scornful disbelief in her voice as she de- 
 rided his mystery made Dukane wrinkle his 
 brow wrathfully. It was the last time he 
 \vould ever confide in her, or for that matter,
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 107 
 
 in any woman. He had been a fool to mention 
 the subject; and probably she would forget all 
 about her promise and let the cat out of the 
 bag. In disgust he went to receive the express 
 shipment. When he at last drove out of the 
 hills which surrounded Melton and gazed for- 
 ward with eager eye in the hope of catching 
 some glimpse of her, the long road showed but 
 a speck far in the distance. After her com- 
 panionable talk of the afternoon, the time 
 dragged slowly and when he reached Tunnel- 
 town, with evening at hand, he was bored with 
 himself, hungry, thirsty, and in a vile temper. 
 Half a dozen men stood before one of the sa- 
 loon doors, who watched him pass, staring in- 
 dolently in his direction until one with per- 
 ceptions suddenly awakened strode out towards 
 him hurling in his direction a string of curses. 
 Lantry, the bunk-house bully it was, who had 
 taken an afternoon off to drink ; and now both 
 the man's face and mind were inflamed by 
 numerous potations of Tunneltown's fiery 
 whiskey. 
 
 Dukane sprang up, holding the reins with 
 one hand and shaking out the long, thin lash 
 of his whip that would when properly directed 
 cut like a knife. Swinging it once around his
 
 108 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 head he shot it straight at the ruffian's face, 
 where it cracked like a rifle a few inches before 
 Lantry's nose. The man staggered back mute, 
 pale, dumfounded at this swift attack, and it 
 was not until the wagon was yards past that 
 he again found his tongue to speed a fierce 
 threat after the driver. As for Dukane, he 
 once more composed himself with satisfaction 
 upon the seat. A splendid calm now filled his 
 mind, as if all his ill-temper had glided out of 
 his mind along the whip in an electric current 
 and discharged itself in the single loud snap; 
 a psychological phenomenon which he did not 
 trouble himself to explain. Indeed, he gave 
 Lantry not two thoughts, for his youthful brain 
 was busy all up the hill with the subject of an- 
 other and far fairer individual. At the top of 
 the ridge he shaded his eyes to gaze intently 
 down into the basin filling with purple light 
 and shadows in which the ranch house was be- 
 ginning to merge. 
 
 Next day he learned from Hop Spencer that 
 Lantry was on the war-path, breathing ven- 
 geance, swearing terrible oaths of what he 
 would do to Hemple, declaring that he would 
 wring the young fellow's neck. 
 
 "We'll have to look out," Hop stated, sitting
 
 It cracked like a rifle a few inches before Lantry's nose 
 
 Page foS
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 109 
 
 on the edge of his bed, "for while he knows he'd 
 better not tackle one of us here, he's the kind to 
 catch a feller alone outside." 
 
 "Are there any more of us who hate him?" 
 
 "Plenty." 
 
 "Then we'll organize a posse." 
 
 Three or four other workmen who smarted 
 under Lantry's sneers and rough horse-play 
 joined with enthusiasm in Dukane's plan of 
 defense, which was to go armed with a short 
 club after work hours and unite in force when- 
 ever the bully assailed one of them. Reen- 
 forcement gives courage. Lantry attempted 
 to bully one of the newly formed company be- 
 fore the bunk-house door in the evening, in 
 the playful manner in which he was accustomed 
 to amuse himself. Up sprang half a dozen 
 men, also appeared half a dozen short stubby 
 business-like billies, and he turned tail to flee 
 under a shower of whacking blows. 
 
 Naturally Dukane felt proud ; he would show 
 the ruffian that he would tolerate no nonsense. 
 Therefore when on a visit to Callahan, who was 
 now able to sit up in the hospital and smoke a 
 pipe, he received the little doctor's chuckling 
 compliment on his small army as only a just 
 meed of praise.
 
 110 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "But look out for him, my boy," Callahan 
 warned, "Lantry is a black devil. If he can 
 catch you alone, it will not be a fair fight and 
 done with it, but he will stamp the life out of 
 your body if you go down. He's a killer." 
 
 "Then I'll be a killer. So far as he goes, I 
 will go." 
 
 "You're too bold a young cock," Callahan 
 upbraided. "Some day a man will cut your 
 comb and have you crawling on your belly to 
 eat out of his hand." 
 
 "Well, I'll take a bite at his fingers while I'm 
 lunching," was the very assured reply. 
 
 "I believe you would," the doctor stated, still 
 chuckling. 
 
 Dukane borrowed the medico's desk for a 
 time to write letters, the first letters since he 
 became a vibrating atom in Silver Peak Basin. 
 He spread out paper, examined pen, settled his 
 body, then gazed at the opposite wall. Deter- 
 mination to find out all that was to be known 
 concerning the Roseland Cement Company 
 was a fixed purpose in his mind, but where he 
 was to begin was another kind of an oyster 
 to open; finally his eyes flashed he would 
 write to everybody, old man Roseland, the Cor- 
 son Cement Company, Bradstreet's and ha!
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 111 
 
 Dukane and Company. That should bring 
 in facts that would enlighten him as to who 
 were the officers and where were the mills of the 
 Roseland Company, and put him on the track 
 of the mystery. With a very important air 
 he scratched away at one missive after another, 
 until rubbing his head in thought he concluded 
 that he had exhausted all available sources of 
 information. Yet as he considered the letters 
 he grew more and more dissatisfied. "Action 
 is what I want, and action is what I'll have," 
 he announced to himself, seizing the letter ad- 
 dressed to the Corson Cement Company and 
 tearing it into fine pieces. Then he dashed off 
 another which stated that he had detected the 
 Roseland Company stealing their competitor's 
 cement, and if the Corson people wished to 
 verify the fact to write him and secretly dis- 
 patch a man for a personal interview. With a 
 flourish he signed the name of James Hemple. 
 If this did not beget "action," nothing would, 
 he decided. "As for that young lady," he mut- 
 tered fiercely, though with apparent irrele- 
 vance, "I'll teach her to laugh at me." 
 
 On his next trip to town the letters were duly 
 mailed and he turned his mind to other matters. 
 
 Most immediate of these was a call next
 
 112 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 morning Sunday upon Satterfield and Les- 
 chelles, who lived in a shack close by the hospi- 
 tal. To these gentlemen, for whom none of 
 his acts any longer held surprise, he expressed 
 a desire to borrow a book on concrete con- 
 struction. Satterfield, pointing with the razor 
 with which he was at the moment shaving, in- 
 formed him that there were a couple on such- 
 and-such a shelf. But why did Hemple want 
 them? Did he not already know all there was 
 to be known on the subject? 
 
 "Nearly. Still I may perhaps glean an 
 idea," Dukane retorted, promptly. 
 
 "Modesty is a jewel," Satterfield remarked. 
 
 "Well, I don't care for jewelry," was the 
 easy answer, as he opened a book, seated him- 
 self and cocked his feet on a window-ledge. 
 "Besides, if I'd been modest I'd still be shovel- 
 ing rock instead of tooling one of Miller's rap- 
 id-transit conveyances." 
 
 He dove into the book, where he remained 
 submerged for some five minutes. Leschelles 
 who was writing out reports of cement tests 
 looked over his shoulder at the other engineer 
 and winked; for the volume in their visitor's 
 hand was not a little technical and their visitor 
 sat with knit brow endeavoring to elucidate its
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 113 
 
 mysteries. Finally he gazed out of the win- 
 dow, then scratched the tip of his nose with 
 forefinger. 
 
 "This is rather elementary," he stated pat- 
 ronizingly, "haven't you something on the sub- 
 ject which is more advanced, something pro- 
 foundly scientific?" 
 
 "Unfortunately not," Satterfield replied, ex- 
 amining his newly shaved chin. 
 
 "What I'm seeking for is the answer to the 
 riddle, when is a concrete dam not a concrete 
 dam?" the youth stated. As neither of the en- 
 gineers seemed particularly impressed he con- 
 tinued, "I've the first part of the solution, which 
 is, 'when it's filled with rubbish'; and the last 
 part, which is, 'when it's washed away.' But 
 what's the rest of the conundrum?" And he 
 lighted a cigarette while awaiting results. 
 
 Both men stopped abruptly in what they 
 were doing, stared at him, after which they ex- 
 changed a swift look. He had tapped the vein 
 which they themselves had dreaded to open, 
 which indeed had often been the subject of 
 their private speculation. But Dukane turned 
 to them a face of child-like innocence. They 
 said nothing. 
 
 "I will now see if you know your lessons,"
 
 114 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 the youthful investigator went on. "First 
 question, Leschelles : how much water will Sil- 
 ver Peak Reservoir impound?" 
 
 "A couple of hundred thousand acre feet." 
 
 "How much pressure in tons will that make 
 upon the dam?" 
 
 "What the devil are you driving at?" said 
 Leschelles, wrinkling his freckled nose. 
 
 "At the dam, to be sure. That's what the 
 water will be doing. How many tons did you 
 say?" 
 
 "I didn't say." 
 
 "Black mark for you, Leschelles. Mr. Sat- 
 terfield, now that you've finished smoothing 
 your wrinkled cheek of care, I'll propound a 
 hypothetical question for you, as the lawyers 
 say. If" 
 
 "I hope it's not as long as theirs," the first 
 assistant interjected. 
 
 "If it requires a dam thirty feet thick, built 
 of solid reinforced concrete to hold a certain 
 lake of water," went on the interrogator, "how 
 many lakes of water will the dam hold if its core 
 is not solid but is made of loose rubble?" 
 
 "What's all this nonsense?" Satterfield said, 
 shortly.
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 115 
 
 Dukane now rose to his feet. "I see that 
 you fellows won't talk." 
 
 "We're not supposed to talk. We simply 
 obey orders. How this dam is built doesn't 
 concern you or us." 
 
 Dukane accepted the admonishment, taking 
 himself once more into his book, while Satter- 
 field from time to time cast uneasy glances at 
 him and wondered if talk that the dam was not 
 safe was common among the men. Strange it 
 was certainly that Dukane and Company had 
 undertaken so tricky a piece of construction; 
 not to be accounted for, unless the management 
 had adopted an anything-for-money policy. 
 Later, the disaster which was destined to occur 
 here would seriously impair the company's 
 credit, and being a conscientions engineer his 
 anxiety grew more acute. Leschelles too, he 
 observed, was evidently disturbed by the same 
 thought, for he sat idle and moodily gazing at 
 the wall. A sense of guilt weighed upon Sat- 
 terfield : to go on building with the knowledge 
 that faulty construction was being -palmed off 
 for good, a circumstance which^ould ruin 
 land-holders and numerous fan^^fcMien the 
 reservoir burst its bounds, made*SBBr tacit ac-
 
 116 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 complice to the deed. And yet, what was his 
 duty in the matter? 
 
 "Here is another one," Jimmy remarked. 
 
 "Another what?" 
 
 "Hypothetical." A dreamy light was in his 
 eye. "If four chorus girls can eat twenty-three 
 lobsters a week, and there are a million chorus 
 girls on Broadway, how long will the available 
 supply of lobsters last?" 
 
 "The lobsters they eat or the lobsters who 
 feed them?" the engineer inquired sardonically. 
 
 "The former; the supply of the latter will 
 never be exhausted." 
 
 "Well, that's the important thing," Satter- 
 field said. "Sorry I can't stay longer." He 
 picked up his hat "I'm off for a ride with 
 Miss Crofton." 
 
 Dukane bounded up. "With her?" 
 
 "To be sure." 
 
 "I'll murder you some day," Jimmy ex- 
 claimed, "murder you in cold blood." A 
 happy thought struck him. "I'll go along." 
 
 "Oh, I rather think not." 
 
 "If that, isn't hard luck! By heaven, I'll 
 beat you to her this afternoon! All right, 
 make hay while the sun shines ; my turn's com- 
 ing." Throwing himself back on his chair he
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 117 
 
 glared at Leschelles while Satterfield went off 
 laughing. "I suppose I'll have to entertain 
 myself with you. Seems to me that all that 
 you fellows do is to hang around the Crofton 
 ranch." 
 
 But Leschelles only chuckled and went on 
 with his calculations. Grumbling for a time 
 Dukane began to overhaul the book-case, until 
 he found a novel which suited him, whereupon 
 he gave over study of concrete construction and 
 followed the hair-breadth escapes of a hero 
 clothed in all the splendid qualities found on or 
 off the earth as he captured an obscure king- 
 dom of Europe and established upon its throne 
 a beautiful young queen who possessed a de- 
 signing uncle and eight or ten despairing 
 lovers. 
 
 "That fellow's not human," he remarked, 
 snapping the book shut. "He has all the vir- 
 tues of a demi-god and wears a collar 
 three inches high the pictures show it. If 
 I had him here I'd make him shovel rock till 
 that collar looked like a coal-heaver's apron. 
 Do you believe in miracles, Johnny Les- 
 chelles?" 
 
 "No, why?" Leschelles had finished his task 
 and settled down to leisure.
 
 118 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "That's too bad. For it's going to take a 
 miracle to make that dam hold water." 
 
 The other flushed. 
 
 "I'm not here to say what it will or will not 
 do." 
 
 "Why don't you sharpen a stick and go after 
 the chief?" 
 
 "And get fired? Yes, that would be fine." 
 Then after a moment he continued in an em- 
 barrassed voice, "I wish you wouldn't speak of 
 this to me again, Hemple. I can't very well 
 listen to it, you know." 
 
 "Right you are. But I'll show what's-his- 
 name yonder a thing or two." Up he bounced 
 and shook his fist at Corbetson's building. 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "He's a " Dukane broke off, discretion 
 gaining the upper hand. 
 
 Just then the doctor entered and said he 
 would sit in a game of three-handed bridge. 
 This was a diversion from an unpleasant sub- 
 ject which Leschelles was glad to welcome; 
 therefore they were presently hard at it. 
 
 "Did you ever really play bridge before?" 
 the doctor inquired of Dukane, with that pleas- 
 ant irony which is practised by the best players. 
 
 "If you could distinguish the difference be-
 
 A MAGICIAN'S CAVE 119 
 
 tween a finesse and a box of pills I would an- 
 swer you," was the swift reply. "And speak- 
 ing of pills, Doc, how much strychnine does it 
 take to kill a healthy man?" 
 
 "Three or four pounds should be enough." 
 
 "Good, I feared it might take a hundred- 
 weight or so, which would require a consider- 
 able time to swallow. I want to do a quick job 
 with my victim." 
 
 "Who's to have the honor of your ministra- 
 tions? Yourself? If I played a hand as 
 weirdly as you do " 
 
 "No, it's Satterfield. The brazen villain's 
 gone riding with Miss Crofton."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 
 
 T AMES A. DUKANE, after a month of 
 ^ business in London and on the Continent, 
 sailed for New York and bethought him of his 
 son. Inquiry at his office and home disclosed 
 that the youth had not, according to instruc- 
 tions last given, put in an appearance after 
 concluding the mission he had had the San 
 Francisco branch assign him, or if the boy had 
 returned he had sedulously kept himself out of 
 sight. A wire to the Pacific Coast brought the 
 information that Dukane junior had reported 
 a month previous, received a ticket to Melton 
 and one hundred dollars, and taken his depar- 
 ture for the destination ascribed, since which 
 time nothing had been heard from the young 
 man. Resentment made the father repeat once 
 more his threat to make or break the incorrig- 
 ible; then he summoned his confidential clerk 
 and requested him to find from what address 
 his son had last drawn checks. The last check 
 
 120
 
 CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 121 
 
 issued to James junior was, it appeared, the 
 San Francisco check for one hundred dollars. 
 Astonishment dwelt on the father's face, 
 where the confidential clerk had seldom beheld 
 evidence of any emotion. 
 
 "What do you make out of that, John?" Du- 
 kane senior finally asked. 
 
 "Perhaps he's grown economical." 
 
 "Then it will be the marvel of the age. Find 
 out where he is." And with the confidence that 
 he would presently be apprised of the where- 
 abouts of his errant progeny he put the matter 
 aside for the time to consider the plans of a 
 light-house. 
 
 Twenty-four hours later the clerk informed 
 him that no trace of his son could be found. 
 Apparently the boy had vanished in clean air; 
 the ticket supplied him had been used to Mel- 
 ton, but in answer to a telegram dispatched to 
 the manager of the Silver Peak Dam by the 
 San Francisco office, in which a description of 
 young Dukane's dress and mention of a letter 
 of introduction were made, an answer had 
 been received that no such person had presented 
 himself. A wrinkle appeared in Dukane se- 
 nior's forehead. He glared with compressed 
 lips past his clerk. Where was the young
 
 scoundrel? Had he cut loose on his own hook? 
 An angry surge of feeling filled the father's 
 breast ; he would let him go ; the boy was worth- 
 less, a spendthrift, a profligate, a ne'er-do-well, 
 who had never turned his hand to work in his 
 life and who would probably sink, once he were 
 deprived of a supply of money, to the muddy 
 bottom. That this should be the end of his 
 son ! His confidential clerk, masking his face, 
 awaited his employer's further directions; 
 nevertheless he was curious as to what action 
 the oft-tried parent would now take. 
 
 "Locate him, but don't let him know," Du- 
 kane finally said. 
 
 That, however, was not easy, as the secretary 
 found by the end of a week, and he more than 
 once expressed himself forcibly though pri- 
 vately as to Dukane junior's character and con- 
 duct. In fact, nothing whatever could by the 
 ordinary means at his disposal be found of the 
 youth's present abode. Finally on his own re- 
 sponsibility he placed the matter in the hands 
 of the police of various Western cities, who in- 
 stituted a search. The result of this move was 
 the finding of a traveling bag marked with 
 Jimmy Dukane's initials, said bag being then 
 in a pawn shop in Butte, Montana.
 
 CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 
 
 Corbetson had received the San Francisco 
 office's telegram describing James Dukane ju- 
 nior's personal appearance and dress and men- 
 tioning the letter of introduction, and replied 
 that the son of the Company's president had 
 not visited Silver Peak Basin, and promptly 
 forgot the inquiry. His mind was worried by 
 more immediate and important affairs. Be- 
 tween the impudent tatterdemalion sporting a 
 black eye, a bruised and muddy countenance, 
 and the wealthy, high-flying son of whom he 
 had heard vague and not particularly creditable 
 tales, what was there to arouse even a suspicion 
 of identity? The dilapidated hobo's first claim 
 that his name was Dukane had long been for- 
 gotten, if indeed it had been heard at all, though 
 the hobo himself, now blossomed forth into an 
 insolent, presuming workman who did not 
 know his proper station, \vas a vivid enough 
 personality. Corbetson was growing more mo- 
 rose. He had acquired the habit of sitting in 
 his office late at night with a bottle and glass 
 hidden handily in a compartment of his desk, 
 which he would draw forth at intervals. The 
 whiskey warmed, comforted him, relaxed his 
 mind from the secret strain under which it la- 
 bored so much of the time. During those late
 
 124. THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 hours he would figure and calculate on a pad 
 of paper, the sheets of which he afterwards 
 always carefully destroyed ; his bank account 
 was growing. Once this construction job was 
 finished, the harassment of its worry at an end, 
 he would resign from the employ of Dukane 
 and Company forever. Ah, that would be a re- 
 lief ! More and more it seemed that the com- 
 pany loomed over him in some indefinite, men- 
 acing way ; but reason told him this was but the 
 fancy of an excited imagination. All was well. 
 Only one or two things were necessary to be 
 arranged at the completion of the work, chief 
 of which was the inducing of his assistants to 
 sever their connection with the company an 
 increased salary for a year in his own employ 
 would accomplish this end and eliminate chance 
 of intimate knowledge of this dam construction 
 percolating higher. 
 
 But the new element of Enid Crofton's 
 personality had entered in to disturb his plans. 
 Her face, her eyes, the music of her voice 
 stirred an uncontrollable hunger which he could 
 neither crush by an effort of will nor satisfy by 
 association. Each time he visited her home he 
 departed more ardently anxious to see her 
 again, to be with her for hours. This feeling
 
 CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 125 
 
 he masked as far as possible from his assistants 
 and others, being naturally secretive and cau- 
 tious, yet the flame burned steadily and strong. 
 For her part, she made no distinction between 
 him and the others, nor indicated any sign of 
 reciprocal liking ; indeed, she was quite as ready 
 to welcome that young Hemple who had played 
 up the silly rescue at the dam as she was to 
 greet him who was chief and manager. What 
 did she mean, what did her father mean, by 
 showing friendship to one who had been picked 
 up out of the muck? The young scoundrel 
 would have been discharged weeks ago had not 
 the girl's imagination been kindled by his 
 puppy heroism. It was sickening, the whole 
 business ! Well, she would undoubtedly tire of 
 his antics, behold the real nature of the pre- 
 sumptuous, talkative fool, and dismiss him 
 from further acquaintance; at which conclu- 
 sion he generally arrived each night. 
 
 It would have indeed been a satisfaction to 
 Corbetson to have known that the youth on 
 whose head he poured the vial of his impreca- 
 tions was in difficulties on his very account. 
 One evening when Dukane found himself the 
 sole companion of Enid Crofton upon the wide 
 veranda she suddenly interrupted their light
 
 126 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 conversation by introducing the topic of his 
 mystery. 
 
 '.'What more have you succeeded in learn- 
 ing?" she questioned. 
 
 "Not a thing. I thought you had forgotten 
 that matter." 
 
 **I would have done so but for one thing. 
 Did you ever stop to think, Mr. Hemple, on 
 whom your mystery reflects, if, in truth, there 
 is one as you insist?" 
 
 "I haven't insisted, not once since we saw the 
 mill."' 
 
 "Well, you insisted that day at least. But 
 you're not answering my question." 
 
 "In regard to reflecting on someone?" 
 
 "There is only one conclusion to draw, if any 
 wrong in this project is being committed." 
 She bent her brows at him gravely. 
 
 "What?" he inquired. 
 
 "That Mr. Corbetson is implicated." 
 
 "Well?" Jimmy responded, with great calm. 
 
 "As he's in charge, he's responsible; and 
 therefore you accuse " 
 
 "Oh, I haven't accused anybody of anything. 
 Apparently you have given this a great deal of 
 thought for a matter which struck you as 
 ridiculous."
 
 CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 127 
 
 "I have. Mr. Corbetson is our friend." 
 
 "What would you like to have me do?" 
 Jimmy asked, cynically. "Get down on my 
 knees and do homage to him?" 
 
 She threw back her head in anger. "Of 
 course not, but you could at least be loyal to 
 your chief." 
 
 "Can't do it. He'd fire me in a minute if 
 he dared." 
 
 "Why shouldn't he dare?" 
 
 "Well, you know you've taken me under 
 your wing," the youth stated brazenly, "and so 
 it wouldn't do at all." 
 
 Enid rose, with flashing eyes. 
 
 "You're very bold and impertinent. Mr. 
 Corbetson is at full liberty to dismiss you 
 any time and I shall inform him that I'm under 
 no obligations to you. After all you are 
 only-" 
 
 "Quite right. I'm only a day laborer," 
 cried Jimmy, bounding to his feet and seizing 
 his hat. "You're under no obligations to me 
 and never have been, I assure you freely. It 
 is I who am under obligations to you for your 
 many kindnesses ; and I perceive that you con- 
 sider me a poor creditor. Have no fear, I'll 
 not offend you by my presence in the future."
 
 128 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "I fear that you would find it difficult to 
 meet Mr. Corbetson here when we all know 
 that you do not like him." 
 
 "Mr. Corbetson may find it embarrassing to 
 meet me one of these days. Good evening." 
 And he stalked down the gravel path, clothed 
 in what he hoped was impressive dignity. 
 
 Left to herself the girl dropped into a chair 
 with pulses still running rapidly. Indignant 
 at him, angry with herself, and scarcely under- 
 standing why she had leaped so quickly to the 
 defence of the chief engineer for whom she 
 cared nothing, she stared after his rapidly mov- 
 ing figure until it disappeared down the moon- 
 lit road. A flush of shame burned her cheeks 
 as she recalled how she had almost uttered 
 words of disparagement concerning his posi- 
 tion in the camp ; and moreover she knew that 
 whereas Hemple did not like Corbetson she 
 herself instinctively disliked the man. What 
 if the youth were right? What if there were 
 something wrong in the camp? But her vis- 
 itor was so assured, so egotistical, so A 
 fresh wave of anger swept over her, while she 
 vowed never to see him again. 
 
 In an access of restlessness she paced the 
 lawn, turning over in her mind the circum-
 
 CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 129 
 
 stance of her rescue by the youth, and subse- 
 quent events. He himself was the mystery. 
 Presently two of her father's cowboys who had 
 been on a visit to Tunneltown rode past her on 
 their ponies and she caught Hemple's name on 
 their tongue. 
 
 "What is it, Jack? What happened to him?" 
 she called to the speaker, approaching. 
 
 They drew rein. 
 
 "It's not what's happened, but what's goin' 
 to happen, Miss Enid. There's a big bully 
 over in camp who's got it in for the young fel- 
 low. Seems like the boy called his game." 
 
 "Tell me about it." 
 
 "Well, you see there's a lame fellow named 
 Hop Spencer who this Lantry took to kickin' 
 around for fun, so Hemple got a bunch of his 
 friends together and jumped him one evening 
 when the bruiser started to make merry." 
 
 "Served him right for picking on a helpless 
 cripple." 
 
 "Lantry knows Hemple's the organizer and 
 swears he'll get even. Other day he cussed 
 Hemple in Tunneltown and the boy let him 
 have it with a whip." 
 
 "But what can the man do?" she inquired, 
 anxiously.
 
 130 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "He'll wait till he catches Hemple alone." 
 "If his friends are organized, that won't hap- 
 pen." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. Lantry's got half a 
 dozen men like himself who'll jump into a fight 
 at the drop of a hat." 
 
 "It isn't right it oughtn't to be allowed." 
 The cowboy grinned. "How you goin' to 
 stop it, Miss Enid? The camp picks up a lot 
 of riff-raff and hoboes ; they're always fightin' 
 among themselves and about the best thing is 
 to let 'em scrap it out like a lot of dogs. From 
 what I hear this young Hemple sort of likes 
 a mix-up himself, so Miller says. Of course, 
 durin' workin' hours they keep quiet, for 
 they're on pay time then, and consequently it's 
 likely to be nights that trouble will start. 
 Well, I'm with Hemple that Lantry's a bad 
 nut. And to jump on a cripple, that's rotten." 
 "I hope nothing happens to Mr. Hemple." 
 "No tellin'." And bidding her good-night, 
 the pair rode on towards the corrals. 
 
 With this fresh information she beheld the 
 young man whom she had so angrily dismissed 
 appearing in a new and romantic light and her 
 heart experienced a sharper reproach for her 
 late act. If he were not loyal to his chief, he
 
 CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 131 
 
 was at least loyal to his friends and ready to de- 
 fend them; she could imagine the spirited re- 
 sistance he had made in behalf of the cripple, 
 imagine his black eyes flashing and his form 
 taut with warlike fierceness. He was a very 
 fearless young fellow to take up bludgeons 
 with the man Lantry (how literally bludgeons 
 she did not guess). The upshot of her mus- 
 ings was that she determined to speak to the 
 chief engineer about this scandalous state of 
 outlawry for outlawry it seemed when a brute 
 such as had been described to her could intimi- 
 date weaker men. Had Dukane known the 
 substance of her reflections he would have 
 swelled with fresh wrath he intimidated, in- 
 deed! 
 
 About this time Hemple became aware that 
 the greater world outside of Silver Peak Basin 
 was concerned with the whereabouts of a certain 
 individual, by name James A. Dukane, Jr. 
 That any fuss should be made over the 
 comings and goings of this person struck 
 him at first with surprise; for though the 
 yellow journals had in the past now and 
 again given an inch or two of space to 
 the young man it had not been in a par- 
 ticularly laudatory vein and chiefly to ex-
 
 132 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 hibit him as an example of the second genera- 
 tion decadent; otherwise he had pursued his 
 way in peace. His second feeling was one of 
 satisfaction at now being taken seriously, if not 
 favorably. How the stir came to his attention 
 befell thus : He one day observed a man talk- 
 ing busily with the station agent, a man not an 
 inhabitant of Melton certainly, and Jimmy idly 
 leaned upon his shovel, being at the time en- 
 gaged in loading coal into his wagon from a 
 freight car, to consider the stranger. Presently 
 the agent gestured towards him, whereupon the 
 man bent his steps toward the spot. 
 
 "Are you from the camp?" he asked, lifting 
 himself up on a wagon-hub. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I want a talk with you." The man mounted 
 to the seat. 
 
 "Go ahead but you can't sell me any gold 
 rings, patent medicines, or mining stock." 
 
 "You'll do for this village," the other re- 
 torted drily, "but keep off the pavements. 
 They serve fresh ones like you every night for 
 supper." 
 
 "And the stale ones go to the garbage-pile. 
 How did you miss it?" 
 
 The man smiled. "I guess you'll do any-
 
 CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 133 
 
 where. But cut out vaudeville talk and give 
 me some information." 
 
 Jimmy sat down on the coal and proceeded 
 to manufacture a cigarette. 
 
 "I'm the last edition of Britannica name 
 the subject." 
 
 The visitor unfolded his story. A young 
 spendthrift who lived in New York, but had 
 made a trip to the Pacific Coast, was missing 
 and for the last two or three weeks the police 
 of all the Western cities had been making a 
 quiet but unsuccessful hunt for him. Volun- 
 tary disappearance on the part of the boy was 
 one theory, foul play another. The young fel- 
 low's father, who was the president of the Du- 
 kane company, was behind the search; while 
 the speaker himself was a newspaper reporter 
 of San Francisco sent by his paper to run down 
 the mystery for a mystery more than that 
 which would lie in a simple evanishment was 
 suspected because of the reticence on the part 
 of the elder Dukane to discuss the matter. 
 There might even be a big sensation in it. At 
 any rate the prominence of the parties con- 
 cerned would make a solution of the affair good 
 news. Young Dukane had set out for Melton 
 and the Silver Peak Reservoir camp, and to
 
 judge by his past record in New York and 
 other places, if he had arrived the camp would 
 certainly have known it. 
 
 "He must be a lovely young person," Jimmy 
 remarked. 
 
 "A spender all right." 
 
 Safe in a mask of coal dust which gave his 
 countenance the sooty hue of an Ethiopian, Du- 
 kane inquired what appearance the lost prodi- 
 gal presented. 
 
 "About your build dissipated well 
 dressed." 
 
 "Perhaps he eloped." 
 
 "That would be like him, but he didn't have 
 any money to speak of. He disappeared here. 
 The ticket he used has been traced and it 
 showed without question that he came to this 
 dropping-off place and apparently dropped 
 clear off the earth. Nobody has seen him, 
 though the hotel man over there remem- 
 bers a young fellow coming in one night, but 
 he isn't sure. Besides, he doesn't keep a 
 register." 
 
 "That's a tough hole yonder, as I know. 
 Maybe they murdered him, thinking he had 
 cash." And Jimmy turned a suspicious look 
 on the hostelry.
 
 CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 135 
 
 "I wonder " the man broke off in his sur- 
 mise and also gazed at the building. 
 
 "Did you see a hard-looking man in there, 
 a fellow with a shaven head and wicked eye? 
 Say, he's just tough enough to stick a knife 
 into anybody that he thought had coin. Then 
 their meals alone would kill a man. But take 
 my tip, the fellow with the billiard-ball head 
 is your one sure thing here in Melton." 
 
 The man pondered; the suggestion, he con- 
 sidered, was not at all unlikely and it dove- 
 tailed with the foul play theory. Remember- 
 ing the steely appearance of the tavern-keep- 
 er's eyes when he had first seen him, the thin 
 lips, the expressionless face, he conceived that 
 the prospect of gaining money might have 
 tempted him to some villainy. Dukane junior 
 had certainly arrived at the station, alighted; 
 almost conclusively it appeared that he had not 
 gone to the company camp ; and as that was his 
 purpose in coming hither the inference was to 
 be drawn that he would not have departed 
 without making it a visit. 
 
 "And I'll bet money the body's buried in the 
 cellar," said Jimmy with conviction. "Look 
 here, send me a copy of your paper with the 
 write-up in."
 
 136 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Don't be in a hurry, the corpse isn't dug 
 up yet," the reporter advised, as he descended 
 from his seat. "Now don't talk this to every- 
 one you meet. If anything comes of this 
 you'll get a piece of money." 
 
 "I need about ten dollars now." 
 
 But the reporter to all appearances did not 
 hear the statement, at least he continued to 
 walk away without reply. Satisfaction Jimmy 
 had, however, in imagining the newspaper fer- 
 ret on the track of the thin-lipped individual 
 who had been instrumental in pitching Dukane 
 into the street his first morning in Melton. 
 One regret he presently developed as he con- 
 sidered the conversation, in that he had not 
 implicated the bartender who had wielded the 
 deadly beer-bottle at the time of his encounter. 
 If now he could have planted a body under the 
 hotel convenient to discovery, revenge would 
 have been certain. 
 
 It was next day while speculating on what 
 progress the man from San Francisco had 
 made that that person came violently out of the 
 depot to where he shoveled coal. The journal- 
 ist's face indicated that all had not gone joy- 
 fully in the course of his investigation. 
 
 "You young devil," he shouted, "what did
 
 CHAMFION OF THE WEAK 137 
 
 you mean by sending me over there yesterday 
 on a wild-goose chase! There isn't any cel- 
 lar." 
 
 "Then they put the body in the cistern." 
 
 "Look at my face, how that bartender beat 
 it up. All because of you! You knew that 
 the man was honest, everybody here knows it, 
 depot agent and all. He said if any person 
 around here would commit murder it would 
 be you, and I believe it, for you nearly got me 
 killed. I've half a notion to climb up there 
 and take it out of your skin, you unwashed 
 loafer." 
 
 "Didn't I tell you yesterday that you were 
 a stale one?" Jimmy remarked calmly. "Can't 
 be much of a paper that will send a 'has been' 
 like you to hunt news. Well, I'm accommo- 
 dating. Climb up, if you want a drink of my 
 blood." 
 
 Dukane laid down his shovel, but the re- 
 porter made no move to accept the invitation. 
 
 "I'm going out to the camp, but not in your 
 wagon." 
 
 "That's agreeable," Jimmy stated, as the 
 man moved off down the siding to where an- 
 other teamster was at work. 
 
 Out of the incident Dukane nevertheless
 
 138 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 had much food for thought. The fact that 
 liis father was anxious on his account caused 
 him little anxiety, but fear lest his identity 
 should be discovered before he had time to in- 
 vestigate the Roseland Cement Company and 
 the graft which he suspected was being oper- 
 ated in connection with it brought him uneasi- 
 ness. He had started on this job and he had 
 never been a quitter. It would be much sim- 
 pler to get at the dishonesty from the bottom 
 up than from the top down; once the persons 
 involved guessed that they were under a 
 shadow, all evidence of their work would be 
 destroyed. Further, he was enjoying himself 
 immensely, what with Corbetson, what with 
 Lantry, what with the mystery of the dam. 
 To be haled back to the city and chucked into 
 an office did not suit his fancy in any respect. 
 Outdoors for him! Then there was a certain 
 high and mighty young lady who had to be 
 taught the waywardness of her action; and in 
 the pleasant anticipation of this teaching he 
 leaned so long upon his shovel, with an idiotic 
 grin engraving his coal-begrimed face, that 
 Miller shouted to know if he had paralysis. 
 
 Reflection upon the subject of Enid Crof- 
 ton brought into his mind, however, a doubt
 
 CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 139 
 
 as to the degree of success he might expect in 
 this undertaking. Her nature was too direct, 
 too straightforward, too uncompromising 
 where right was concerned, to sacrifice princi- 
 ple; and it was this fact that gave her in his 
 eyes her singular charm. She was too honest 
 for trickery, too proud for subterfuge, and too 
 ardent for subtlety which were qualities only 
 too common in those young ladies with whom 
 he had had acquaintance in New York. There- 
 fore the doubt grew and grew, and by the time 
 he had mounted the hill on his way home, where 
 over his horses' heads he could look down upon 
 the Crofton ranch-house nestling in the basin, 
 he had reached the conclusion that he had not 
 on the occasion of their last meeting conducted 
 himself in a manner to win her, or his own, 
 high respect. Distinctly he had been wrong 
 and he had acted like a spoiled boy. 
 
 He came into the bunk-house in an unenvi- 
 able state of mind, where as a result he had a 
 hot interchange of compliments with Lantry, 
 a scowl for everyone else except Spencer, and 
 even a short word for that cripple. 
 
 "What's wrong, Jimmy?" Spencer inquired 
 anxiously, sitting down beside him on the bunk. 
 
 Dukane sat with his jaw between his fists.
 
 140 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Nothing, just nothing that is, everything. 
 I'm sick of myself." 
 
 "Not goin' to quit?" was the still more anx- 
 ious question. 
 
 "I should say not!" 
 
 "Guess it's Lantry then. Can't we sort of 
 figure out a way to do him up for keeps, run 
 him out of the camp?" 
 
 "No, it isn't on account of that scoundrel. 
 He don't scare me for a minute. It's just 
 me." 
 
 In baffled wonder his friend cast about in 
 his mind for some solution of this unusual ex- 
 hibition of gloom. Hemple had heretofore 
 been the incarnation of liveliness, good spirits, 
 dash and optimism ; to see him now down in the 
 mouth bespoke some terrible catastrophe of 
 spirit; and Hop Spencer was not in the habit 
 of dealing with catastrophes of soul, either in 
 others or in himself. So he remained silent, 
 mouth open, while his simple mind made ex- 
 traordinary excursions to the horizon of imag- 
 ination in an endeavor to discover some plausi- 
 ble explanation of his friend's profound unhap- 
 piness. 
 
 "Wish I could do something for you," he 
 said at last, helplessly.
 
 CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 
 
 Dukane looked up, perceived the sympathy, 
 worry and trouble upon the cripple's counte- 
 nance and immediately smiled sunnily. 
 
 "Why, you old woman," he exclaimed, clap- 
 ping Spencer on the shoulder, "nothing's the 
 matter, except that I made an unmitigated 
 fool of myself and am merely telling myself 
 about it." 
 
 "Well, that's nothing," was Spencer's re- 
 lieved answer. "I reckon we all do that at 
 times, from the chief down to me." 
 
 It was with burning envy that Dukane saw 
 Leschelles make his way about dusk up the 
 road to the ranch-house. When it grew dark 
 he found himself moving in the same direction, 
 to halt, however, some distance off and gaze 
 from afar with immense yearning at his lost 
 paradise. Thus for a time he suffered a pleas- 
 ing melancholy, until at last he had squeezed 
 the last drop out of this emotion, and so wan- 
 dered back to hunt up Callahan for a chat. 
 But it was not without reaching a decision ; he 
 would promptly apologize to Enid at the first 
 opportunity. 
 
 In camp he again ran afoul of Lantry, who 
 was accompanied by two or three of his fel- 
 lows. Jimmy, deciding discretion to be the
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 better part of valor upon the present occasion, 
 started to give ground and pass by on one side 
 with all the unostentation of a pup pursuing a 
 distant goal. He was not to win past so 
 easily; Lantry checked his advance by block- 
 ing the way. 
 
 "Afraid of me now, are you?" he jeered. 
 
 "No, I'm not afraid of you at any time, you 
 thug; move aside or I'll put you to sleep," re- 
 joined Dukane, suddenly adopting a policy of 
 boldness, though with inward trembling. 
 
 Lantry leaped forward and struck a blow 
 that knocked him a dozen feet and left him 
 stunned and prostrate. When he recovered 
 himself, the men had passed on, laughing 
 among themselves and flinging back taunts. 
 Jimmy rose to his feet unsteadily ; he was sick, 
 very sick, but in his breast there flamed a fierce 
 determination immediately to square the score. 
 He hastened to the bunk-house, he summoned 
 his cohort of warriors, held a whispered coun- 
 cil with them outside and then arming them 
 with their cudgels, led them forth on a noiseless 
 hunt. Of this reprisal Lantry and his two 
 companions were first apprised when all at once 
 a dozen shadows flitted out of the darkness 
 about and fell on them with wordless fury.
 
 CHAMPION OF THE WEAK 143 
 
 The three men sought to flee but were headed 
 off, were driven hither and thither under a 
 shower of blows and cuffs and kicks. Did 
 they swing on one assailant, instantly half a 
 dozen were striking them behind. The sound 
 of the melee, the cries, shouts, yells of pain 
 and calls for help finally reached the bunk- 
 houses, which erupted a host of men to find the 
 cause of this unwonted alarm. Upon their 
 arrival at the spot, however, only Lantry and 
 his two allies were discovered and they in a 
 state of dilapidation; their bodies mauled and 
 bruised, their heads and faces bleeding, their 
 nerves badly shaken, their clothes ripped and 
 torn. In the state of excitement which gov- 
 erned and in consequence of the darkness 
 which prevailed during the encounter they 
 could give little intelligence of the battle. 
 Lantry nevertheless divined the instigator of 
 it and swore that he would have Hemple's 
 heart. Jimmy and his men sat in their empty 
 
 bunk-house calmly awaiting the issue. 
 
 
 Dukane senior looked at his confidential 
 clerk from under frowning brows which that 
 subordinate had had occasion of late to know 
 only too well.
 
 144. THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "I want that boy found," he stated, slowly, 
 distinctly and decisively, and with finality. 
 
 "But if he's dead " the clerk began. He 
 hoped that Dukane junior was dead; he had 
 cursed him heartily more than once since the 
 boy's disappearance. Jimmy had become his 
 burden, his nightmare, his nemesis. 
 
 "He's not dead," Dukane senior said. 
 "You can't kill young animals like him and 
 I want him. He's my boy, my flesh and 
 blood!" 
 
 The clerk withdrew to continue his distracted 
 search; the parent sank into thought. Could 
 it indeed be that his son had met death by some 
 accident, some misadventure? Was it not his 
 own fault as much as the boy's that Jimmy had 
 run wild, made no use of his talents, had fallen 
 away from him? If he had devoted less time 
 to the vast business machine which he had cre- 
 ated, if he had less considered light-houses and 
 subways and given more of his love and 
 thought to Jimmy the latter would have been 
 a more faithful son. 
 
 Under the lash of this self -accusation he rose 
 and paced to and fro across the room ; the roar 
 of the city did not reach his ears, the presence 
 of the immense hurly-burly of which he was a
 
 145 
 
 part was lost to him, while his mind groped 
 out into that distant West in which the boy 
 must somewhere dwell. 
 
 All at once he halted. "If they do not find 
 him," he said, "then I shall go myself." With 
 a fresh access of determination he strode to his 
 desk and wrote a number of telegrams. "A 
 little longer, then I'll go myself."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 BY THE RIVER 
 
 < < T ACKNOWLEDGE that I was wrong, 
 * I can't be fond of Corbetson," Jimmy 
 said. 
 
 "How ridiculous! It's not necessary that 
 you be fond of him," the girl responded. 
 
 "Well, I can't be loyal to him not on two 
 dollars and a half a day." 
 "You can treat him civilly." 
 "All right, I'll do it because of you." 
 "No, not for me; it must be on principle." 
 "I have no principles. It shall be for you, 
 or it will not be." And he said with a sudden 
 earnestness that stupefied her, "I'd do any- 
 thing for you, Enid." 
 
 For a moment she knew not which she 
 would do, blush, gasp or laugh; but she con- 
 cluded by doing no one of the three she 
 turned aside and moved up the stream. 
 
 They were fishing. Jimmy deciding after 
 a brief exile from the light of her presence to 
 
 146
 
 BY THE RIVER 147 
 
 subdue his pride and make such amends as 
 would restore him once more to the favored 
 circle had accordingly taken a day off, gone to 
 the ranch-house where he made elaborate apol- 
 ogies and manifested a rather suspicious con- 
 trition, and had begged her to join him in a 
 fishing excursion. Up the little river there- 
 fore they were now making their way, vastly 
 more interested in themselves than in the trout 
 which lurked in cool shady pools or in foaming 
 rapids. Overhead a few billowy clouds floated 
 across the clear azure of the sky, an azure 
 which Silver Peak rearing its lofty crest strove 
 in vain to pierce. But the mountain's huge 
 front nevertheless loomed gigantic and as they 
 ascended the stream and began to climb its 
 first slope, down which the water raced with a 
 louder song, they experienced a sobering sense 
 of its might, an expanding grasp of its maj- 
 esty. 
 
 "Let us sit down awhile," Enid said, seating 
 herself upon a rock. "See the glitter of the 
 sunlight on the snow so high up yonder. How- 
 fine it would be to soar like an eagle up and 
 up until one was lost in the ether!" 
 
 Jimmy gazed at the height she indicated, 
 then at her clear oval face and rapt eyes; in
 
 148 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 imagination she circled like the great bird she 
 had named and floated between earth and 
 heaven. Somehow now as never before the 
 simple sincerity of her nature, the clear, honest 
 current of her soul, flowing as sweet and 
 straight and pure as the water of the mountain 
 stream at their feet, gripped him with a 
 strange, a new, a wonderful emotion of de- 
 light. Unconsciously she had spoken to the 
 mountain, reached forth a hand as to a compe- 
 tent and trusted brother. Jimmy closed his 
 eyes and breathed a deep, delicious, satisfying 
 draught of happiness. Then his eyes popped 
 open in astonishment; astonishment it was, 
 nothing less. For for he loved her! 
 
 "I think I'll fish," he gasped. 
 
 Slowly she turned about, coming to earth. 
 She perceived the youth stupidly regarding 
 her. 
 
 "Why, what is the matter with you?" she 
 asked, perplexed. 
 
 "I I don't know. I feel queer." 
 
 "You look not only queer but foolish. Does 
 the sudden desire to catch a fish affect you in 
 that fashion? Well, what will happen when 
 you really have one on your hook?" 
 
 "I don't know."
 
 BY THE RIVER 149 
 
 She gazed at him intently, all at once caught 
 in a mesh of anxiety. 
 
 "Is it the climb ? Do you feel faint? Have 
 you a weak heart?" 
 
 "My heart yes, that's it, my heart." 
 
 Fear now took full possession of the girl; 
 she sprang up and laying hands upon his shoul- 
 ders forced him to be seated, then she dabbled 
 her handkerchief in the icy water and laid it 
 on his brow, pressing it down with firm fingers. 
 A shiver shook Dukane's frame as the chill 
 penetrated to his skull; two rivulets coursed 
 along his face, one down each cheek, and a 
 sickly idiotic grin distorted his countenance. 
 
 "Feel better?" she asked, solicitously. 
 
 "Yes, oh, yes." 
 
 "You won't faint?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 She withdrew, stepped back a pace and scru- 
 tinized him. The examination proved satis- 
 factory. 
 
 "Now wipe your cheeks. Think you can go 
 on?" 
 
 "I would go to heaven with you," was the 
 adoring answer. 
 
 "You appear entirely recovered," she said, 
 drily.
 
 150 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Oh, but it's just begun and I'll never get 
 over it!" 
 
 "Then we'd best go home." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "I don't believe you were going to faint at 
 all," she exclaimed with dawning suspicion, 
 with indignation. 
 
 "But it helped me, the handkerchief. I like 
 it." 
 
 "Is your heart weak, or is it not?" she de- 
 manded imperiously. 
 
 "It isn't what you would call exactly weak," 
 was the cautious reply, "but it needs attention. 
 It jumps up and down." 
 
 "It what?" 
 
 "Well, it turns somersaults and performs 
 I just found it out. It's this way; you look at 
 me, then it turns over and I I that's all." 
 
 A slow flush suffused her face. 
 
 "I think we'd best begin our fishing," she 
 stated. 
 
 "Perhaps that would be best," he replied, 
 though his assent was not hearty. 
 
 "And I will take good care not to come too 
 close to you." 
 
 "You need not, for I'll be at your heels like 
 a crawling dog."
 
 BY THE RIVER 151 
 
 The stream presently issued from a small 
 canyon where boulders blocked its course and 
 turned it into a foaming, boiling torrent. 
 Jimmy was content to fish for awhile in peace 
 in order that the tumult in his brain, the strange 
 confusion of new knowledge, revelation, won- 
 der and happiness should have time to fall into 
 some kind of order. For probably the first 
 time in his short but palpitating career he felt 
 himself timid, abashed, confronted with cir- 
 cumstances which he could not instantly re- 
 solve in an off-hand way; the girl on a sudden 
 assumed a radiant, splendid personality such 
 as he had never perceived any other being to 
 possess. An ineffable longing to be always 
 near her, with her, to make endless the queer 
 happiness which had dropped upon him, stirred 
 so strongly in his heart and agitated him to so 
 great a degree that he did ask himself pres- 
 ently if the altitude had not indeed made him 
 giddy. To assure himself on this point he 
 thumped himself vigorously upon the chest, 
 then listened to see if he could distinguish 
 under the curtain of the river's sound any rat- 
 tle, any unfamiliar echo, which would reveal a 
 disorder of that newly discovered organ, his 
 heart. He detected nothing and besides he
 
 152 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 knew altitude had nothing whatever to do with 
 the matter. And then what of this chastened 
 dove-like feeling? 
 
 "Jimmy Dukane, you've got the little arrow 
 in your bosom at last," he said to himself, with 
 profound conviction. 
 
 Meanwhile he had stood so long in reflection 
 that Enid Crofton had passed out of sight 
 around a jutting ledge; he suddenly discovered 
 this with consternation and seizing his pole, the 
 fish basket and the box of lunch began a hur- 
 ried pursuit. When he came up with her 
 again, he found her busily engaged in a strug- 
 gle with a large trout which had struck her 
 hook and which was now fighting back and 
 forth in a pool. With infinite skill she was 
 playing it towards the edge where she stood, 
 guiding it away from sharp rocks that might 
 sever the line, keeping a firm control over its 
 wild rushes which made the reel sing, and grad- 
 ually wearing down its strength. 
 
 "Let me help," Dukane exclaimed, in ex- 
 citement. 
 
 "Don't you dare! This is my fish!" came 
 from her tense lips. 
 
 Her lithe figure moved backward and for- 
 ward along the narrow sandy strand, following
 
 BY THE RIVER 153 
 
 the course of the fish. With the flush of bat- 
 tle on her cheek, with eyes bright and alive, 
 she seemed lovelier than ever. 
 
 "It's coming, it's coming!" she cried. "Use 
 the landing net!" 
 
 Through the limpid water of the pool 
 Jimmy could see a long slim shadow cutting to 
 and fro, or for a moment lying motionless as 
 the fish braced itself against the haling strain of 
 the silk line. Then all at once it shot up above 
 the surface in a curving leap, gleaming in the 
 sunshine and flashing diamonds over the water. 
 
 "Three pounds if an ounce," she declared. 
 "Now he's growing tired get ready." 
 
 Cautiously she drew the captive nearer and 
 nearer, until at last Jimmy was able to scoop 
 the net under its body and lift it out of the pool. 
 Surely it was a magnificent trout, and as she 
 had said not an ounce under three pounds. 
 Leaning her rod against the cliff she sat down 
 on a stone to rest. 
 
 "He gave me about all I could attend to," 
 she remarked, with the relieved air of one who 
 has fought a good fight and won the victory. 
 
 "I'm proud of you, little sister." 
 
 Enid burst into a peal of laughter. The 
 proprietary air with which he spoke struck her
 
 as infinitely comic; but her laughter ended in 
 a cry of dismay, for in removing the hook he 
 had allowed the trout to flop out of the net 
 and now it was springing upon the sand in 
 jumps and convulsive bounds in an endeavor to 
 regain the water. Down upon it they both flung 
 themselves, clutching at its slippery body, seek- 
 ing to seize it, becoming inextricably mixed in 
 a furious mass, until finally they separated to 
 leave Jimmy resting on his knees looking up at 
 her in triumph, while he held the wriggling fish 
 by the gills with a relentless, blood-smeared 
 hand. 
 
 "I would have followed it into the water," he 
 said, in glee. 
 
 "And I would have made you, if it had got 
 away," she retorted, straightening her hair, 
 "for it would have been your fault. Now put 
 it in the basket and we'll go ahead to that open 
 place yonder under the trees. It's noon and 
 time to eat. If you're not hungry, I am at 
 any rate. We'll roast it over a blaze." 
 
 Half an hour later they sat by the embers 
 of a brush-wood fire, with the broiled, succu- 
 lent trout and their sandwiches spread out on 
 a napkin-covered table of rock between them. 
 The appetizing odor of the fish invited them to 
 feast, the river made music in their ears, the
 
 BY THE RIVER 155 
 
 trees cast a pleasant shade and overhead was 
 the wide, sunlit sky. 
 
 "I've fished in Maine, New Hampshire and 
 the Alleghanies, but this beats them all," 
 James remarked. 
 
 Enid picked out a fragment of fish with fin- 
 ger and thumb. "Fished in those various 
 places?" 
 
 "Yes, and they were no good, except good 
 for the guide who held me up for twenty dol- 
 lars a day." 
 
 "Ah, was that all they charged?" 
 
 "Well, that was enough, I think." 
 
 "Is that the way you spend your wages in 
 your intervals of rest?" she inquired, politely. 
 
 Jimmy came to with a start : he had betrayed 
 himself into a confession which he would have 
 gladly recalled. 
 
 "Hum, so to speak." 
 
 She finished her morsel, wiped her fingers 
 and calmly asked, "Who is your real self? 
 Who are you?" 
 
 "Do you really wish to know?" 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "Then I'll tell you. I'm your destined fu- 
 ture husband." And he waited in rising ex- 
 citement the outcome of this bold shot. 
 
 "Don't grow silly now."
 
 156 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 He leaped to his feet in sudden wrath. 
 "Silly! I'm in dead earnest. That's what's 
 the matter with me, the matter with my heart." 
 He stared wildly at her. "I'm so deeply in 
 love with you that I'd let you cut me up into 
 little pieces for fish-bait and I'd die with joy. 
 I never knew it before, never knew it till to- 
 day. I tell you, if you don't let me love you 
 I'll run mad and bite somebody. Oh, I could 
 weep for love of you." Whereupon he 
 plumped down upon the ground once more, 
 seized a piece of the unoffending trout and be- 
 gan savagely to eat it. 
 
 "You're certainly an interesting young 
 
 man." 
 
 "Bear my words in mind, I'm going to 
 marry you," he exclaimed, swallowing a mouth- 
 ful. "I came out here into the West to find 
 you I didn't know it at the time, but I know 
 now why I'm marooned here. Just that be- 
 cause of you. It was fate, and I see now what 
 those old fellows who wrote Greek plays meant 
 when they talked about fate. They meant 
 
 me.'' 
 
 She spoke impersonally. "You do seem for 
 the moment to be in earnest." 
 
 "Earnest!" He raised despairing eyes to
 
 BY THE RIVER 157 
 
 heaven. "I'm in earnest so much that that 
 Enid, won't you, can't you love me just a 
 little bit?" 
 
 In her heart she experienced a flutter of pity, 
 a gush of sympathy, a responding warmth. 
 His bright black eyes were fixed upon her be- 
 seechingly; they held a light such as she had 
 never before seen in them, a light that started 
 a strange sort of rapture into being in her own 
 breast. By an effort, however, she bade him sit 
 down. 
 
 "Your fish will grow cold and spoiled," was 
 the only thing she could think of, in response 
 to his impassioned plea. 
 
 "What do I care, for fish? It's you I want." 
 
 "Do you think I could love a man who won't 
 tell me his real name and who makes a mys- 
 tery of his past?" 
 
 "You wouldn't believe me if I did tell you 
 and besides I took a vow to keep my name se- 
 cret till I had finished my work. What does 
 the name matter?" he cried impetuously. 
 
 Enid had collected herself. 
 
 "When a girl is invited into marriage, she 
 rather desires to know what name she will be 
 required to bear the rest of her life try a sand- 
 wich."
 
 158 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Well, I've determined to marry you, name 
 or no name." 
 
 "I don't expect to marry for many, many 
 years, and at the present time I don't love any- 
 body. Why should I?" She flung the ques- 
 tion with a bright, smiling look. 
 
 Jimmy finished the sandwich on which he 
 was engaged. 
 
 "I never thought to propose in the middle 
 of a meal," said he. "Enid, you haven't a 
 heart." 
 
 For a time she vouchsafed no reply, only re- 
 garding him closely. But her attention was in 
 fact turned inward upon the peculiar singing 
 in her bosom, with a desire to know if the music 
 was in any way in response to the impetuous 
 declaration which had just been made by the 
 young man across the stone from her. Why 
 was she happy now? Why was she always 
 happy when with him? Why did she love to 
 look on his features, to hear his voice, have him 
 near? 
 
 "I don't think I could marry you," she said. 
 
 "If you " he stopped abruptly, consider- 
 ing. 
 
 For once it seemed as if he were opposed by 
 an unsurmountable obstacle; he looked down
 
 BY THE RIVER 159 
 
 the years to come and saw himself the figure of 
 a lonely tragedy; already it seemed as if he 
 had loved her a long time, almost forever. 
 Moreover, she did not appear to appreciate his 
 passion she had begun to fold up the nap- 
 kins. He helped himself to one of the two re- 
 maining sandwiches, bit into and sorrowfully 
 masticated the bite. Then he began to reflect 
 upon the advisability of telling her his real 
 identity, yet what was to be gained by that? 
 If she did not love him as Hemple, she would 
 not love him as Dukane. He heaved a pro- 
 found sigh. And to remain in the valley 
 knowing he had no hope would be torture. 
 Let Corbetson continue to graft in the build- 
 ing of the dam let him go scot-free he, 
 Jimmy Dukane, cared not. 
 
 "Well, I shall go away, then," he stated, at 
 last. 
 
 "Go away!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But you mustn't do that," she hastened to 
 say, with an inexpressible flutter of apprehen- 
 sion. 
 
 "No use in staying if you don't love me." 
 
 "If you went, I'd know you'd been driven 
 away by me."
 
 160 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Not at all." 
 
 She carefully wrapped up the napkins. A 
 tiny wrinkle appeared between her brows. 
 
 "You must promise not to go until you 
 have a real reason for doing so." 
 
 "If I haven't a good one now, I'll never have 
 it." 
 
 "That's no reason at all. Will you prom- 
 ise?" 
 
 Jimmy, however, would not commit himself 
 to any such rash agreement. The prospect 
 held out of a future near her and yet apart 
 from her was more than he cared to accept; 
 better be utterly out of her presence. It was 
 thus while he believed his fortunes at their 
 lowest ebb that in reality they were rising, as 
 with his announcement of a possible departure 
 he had created in her mind a possibility of loss. 
 
 Fishing down the stream on their way home- 
 ward, and fishing less with an eye to a full creel 
 than as a mere form of keeping up the pre- 
 tense of the excursion, conversation lagged 
 while each engaged in introspection. So far 
 as Enid was concerned she knew by this time 
 that she was exceedingly fond of him, but as 
 for really loving him that was a vastly differ- 
 ent .matter. He was fishing ahead and pres-
 
 BY THE RIVER 161 
 
 ently she became so absorbed in contemplation 
 of her loving any man that she remained appar- 
 ently rooted in one spot, oblivious of the fact 
 that the end of her pole trailed in the water, a 
 full danger-signal to any trout which lurked in 
 the pool. And always her thoughts focused 
 in the end upon the personality of the youth, 
 his sudden appearance in Silver Peak Basin, 
 his rescue of her at the dam, his coming to her 
 house, his obvious superiority to his present sta- 
 tion, his friendship and kindness for the 
 cripple, his mystery, his danger at the hands 
 of the camp bully, and now his present con- 
 fession of love. At last she was aroused by 
 his hallooing for her. When she joined him, 
 he stated that he feared she had fallen into 
 the river. 
 
 "I found a good pool," was her brief an- 
 swer. 
 
 "And where are the fish?" 
 
 "They didn't bite." 
 
 "Well, I wouldn't call that a good pool." 
 
 Below them they could see the outspread 
 basin, the ranch, the construction works at the 
 mouth of the gorge and distinguish faint jets 
 of steam escaping from the power house. All 
 the valley basked in afternoon sunshine, under
 
 162 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 which the river glistened at intervals in plates 
 of silver. 
 
 "You mustn't go away," she said. 
 
 "That's kind, but you'll not be lonesome, 
 with Leschelles and Satterfield and Corbetson. 
 The doctor too is always glad to fill in." 
 
 "But I should miss you." 
 
 "Ah, that's something. Look here, if I stay 
 I'd be tempted some fine day to drive up to 
 your house with my six-horse outfit and kid- 
 nap you. It wouldn't be exactly as romantic 
 as riding in an old-fashioned English stage, 
 but it would do. You'd have to be responsible 
 for what happened." 
 
 Enid laughed at the picture he drew. 
 
 "Father and the boys would be after us 
 shooting at every jump." 
 
 "So much the better, it would make it vivid." 
 The contemplation of happiness, even under 
 such difficulties, lighted Dukane's face with a 
 beatific smile. "I will do it I will do it! 
 They could never catch us when I started pour- 
 ing the whip into my steeds and we'd have a 
 good start. Then we could be married at Mel- 
 ton, then go round the world on a wedding 
 trip, then live in New York and " Her clear 
 laughter interrupted his dream and brought
 
 BY THE RIVER 163 
 
 him back to reality. "I'm in earnest," he con- 
 tinued. "If I stay and now I think I shall 
 I'll do something desperate to win you." 
 
 "That will be exciting, and I sometimes long 
 for excitement." 
 
 "Oh, if you knew how I love you!" he ex- 
 claimed, with a fresh burst of sentiment, wav- 
 ing his rod wildly about. 
 
 The next five minutes were occupied by him 
 in attempting to untangle the line from the 
 limbs of a sapling in which it had become 
 wrapped, until at last he jerked it furiously 
 loose. 
 
 "This does not seem to be your lucky day," 
 Enid remarked. 
 
 "Lucky, I should say not! I've been living 
 a dog's life under an unlucky star ever since 
 the governor sent me that telegram in " Ab- 
 ruptly he broke off, conscious that he was 
 betraying himself, then finished lamely, "I 
 think the goblins are on my trail. They'll be 
 jumping up and down on me nights pretty 
 soon to keep me awake. I'm through with 
 fishing for to-day." 
 
 "And I have had enough too. Let us start 
 home." 
 
 As they followed a path that descended the
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 river, she questioned him regarding his feud 
 with the camp bully, Lantry. But of this he 
 would not speak: natural pride and principle 
 that a man's fight with men should be main- 
 tained as a personal affair, to be neither dis- 
 closed to nor discussed with those of the other 
 sex, a rule unconsciously absorbed from that 
 stern fighter, Dukane senior caused him to 
 refuse all of her inquiries and evade her leads 
 upon the subject. Lantry and he did not 
 agree, was his explanation, that was the whole 
 of the matter. And though highly dissatisfied 
 and excited to a higher point of curiosity than 
 ever, she needs must be content. Of the at- 
 tack and counter-attack which had been made 
 between them the previous night, and of the 
 acute stage to which their hostility had in con- 
 sequence been developed, she knew nothing, 
 or she would have experienced a new perturba- 
 tion in Dukane's behalf. 
 
 This was not long delayed. When they 
 reached the ranch house they found the little 
 doctor sitting upon the veranda with Mr. Crof- 
 ton, and the four of them chatted for a time 
 upon general topics. 
 
 Presently Mr. Crofton said: 
 
 "The doctor tells me that you and that fel-
 
 BY THE RIVER 165 
 
 low Lantry had a bad mix-up last night, and 
 that he's out to capture your scalp, Jim. Bet- 
 ter go easy around him." 
 
 "All he has to do to have peace is to leave 
 Spencer and me alone," Jimmy replied. 
 
 The doctor hitched about with hands on 
 knees. 
 
 "You young fellows certainly came back at 
 him with a vengeance. Had to take half a 
 dozen stitches in one chap's head and he looked 
 as if he'd been run through the stone crusher 
 black-and-blue all over. There's a lot of tough 
 trouble ahead of you, I'm afraid, my boy wish 
 you were well out of *it, or that Lantry would 
 quit camp." 
 
 "What has Mr. Hemple been doing this 
 time?" Enid demanded. 
 
 The doctor chuckled, eying Dukane. 
 
 "That would be telling secrets out of school." 
 
 Enid seated herself and began fanning reso- 
 lutely. She looked from one to another of 
 the men, who showed no disposition to convey 
 the information requested. 
 
 "You may as well tell me, Doctor, for I in- 
 tend to find out," she stated. "If you won't, 
 then father will have to, so I'll learn it in any 
 case."
 
 166 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Hemple could probably give J T OU the facts 
 better than I also the atmosphere. But I'll 
 go ahead; I can't refuse you anything you ask, 
 as you know, and so I'm in your power. Hem- 
 pie's scowling now. Of course I'll catch it 
 from him going home he's a modest young 
 man in some ways, though not many. It 
 seems that Lantry and two friends met James 
 here last night and knocked him down as a 
 form of amusement, but James was not sub- 
 dued. Far from it ! He called his clan and in 
 their turn they fell on poor Lantry and the 
 other pair and beat them up in worse shape 
 than could a squad of New York policemen. 
 They're so sore physically and mentally 
 to-day that they can't work and can only 
 plot revenge. I'd say that Jimmy has 
 opened up a lead for the real celebration of 
 his life. Wisdom should dictate an orderly 
 retreat." 
 
 "Not me," Jimmy replied, promptly. 
 
 "But if you're in danger!" Enid exclaimed. 
 
 "I've nothing to live for in any case/' he 
 retorted, with significance. "I'll fight Lantry 
 to a finish, then the company can bury me in a 
 cement sack. Thus I would make an appro- 
 priate end."
 
 BY THE RIVER 167 
 
 "I'll offer my services to sew you up," the 
 doctor offered. 
 
 "How dare you talk so!" Enid said, with a 
 rising flush. "That's horrible. I think some- 
 thing should be done to stop it." 
 
 "I don't want it stopped," Jimmy an- 
 nounced. 
 
 "Then you deserve to be killed," was her 
 angry reply. 
 
 "Oh, Lantry's a coward at bottom," the 
 youth said, in lofty tones. 
 
 Although the subject was presently changed 
 her anxious thoughts continued to dwell upon 
 it, inventing all sorts of terrible agonies and 
 tortures which the gorgon Lantry might inflict 
 upon the body of his victim. The boy loved 
 her; even if she did not love him she neverthe- 
 less now had an intimate responsibility in him 
 because of that love, a personal pledge for his 
 welfare. What did that man Corbetson mean 
 by permitting such outrageous conduct on the 
 part of Lantry? Why, indeed, did he keep 
 him as a workman? Perhaps she should have 
 been gentler with Hemple when he told her of 
 his love. She ran over in memory all the cir- 
 cumstances of the day, all of his words, recalled 
 his every look, tone and gesture ; and contrast-
 
 168 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 ing them with her own saw herself in a cold and 
 unsympathetic light. She had in truth been 
 over-cold. 
 
 "And this newspaper man states that the 
 son has vanished utterly," the doctor was say- 
 ing. " He questioned everybody in camp, my- 
 self among them. During the afternoon he 
 spent an hour with me. The strange part of 
 the story is that this young Dukane, who by all 
 accounts was a high-flier and worthless chap, 
 disappeared over yonder at Melton was in 
 fact coming to inspect the dam. He never 
 showed up, just dropped out of sight sank 
 into the ground." / 
 
 Jimmy stirred uneasily. 
 
 "These rich men's sons are never any good," 
 said he. 
 
 "Well, old man Dukane's wasn't, that seems 
 pretty well certified to. The reporter intends 
 to hang round a day or two, says he can work 
 up an article on the construction of the dam 
 even if he can't make a story about Dukane's 
 
 son." 
 
 Mr. Crofton lighted a fresh cigar and cast 
 a satisfied look at his daughter. 
 
 "Boys make a heap of trouble sometimes. 
 Now with a girl it's different; all that you have
 
 BY THE RIVER 169 
 
 to do is to let them have their way and there is 
 never any disagreement." 
 
 "What a thing to say!" she rejoined, then, 
 "Must you go, gentlemen?" For the doctor 
 and Jimmy had risen. "I hope no sounds of 
 battle from camp will keep father and me 
 awake to-night." 
 
 She spoke gaily, but as she addressed her 
 good-nights to them she found occasion to add 
 a word to her companion of the afternoon. 
 
 "Take care of yourself, Jimmy," she said 
 softly, "I want you to." 
 
 *
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 UNDER THE CHIEF'S THUMB 
 
 matter which had lain troublesomely 
 on Enid's mind came to the surface the 
 day after the fishing excursion and gave a 
 push to affairs to a degree that resulted in 
 young Dukane being advanced a consider- 
 able space towards his object of solving the 
 dam mystery. Indeed, coming at the time 
 it did when his whole course seemed hope- 
 lessly blocked, and in the manner in which 
 it did as a consequence of Corbetson's own 
 initiative, one might have concluded that there 
 was an unseen and powerful intelligence at 
 work in his behalf. To go back to the girl's 
 perturbation, it had to do with the circumstance 
 of Jimmy's veiled warfare with Lantry, the 
 bunk-house bully ; the information given her by 
 the cowboys concerning the feud persisted in 
 her mind. Therefore it wal only natural that 
 it should at last acquire subsw|^Fin the form 
 of speech. 
 
 no
 
 UNDER THE CHIEF'S THUMB 171 
 
 "There are some pmty rough specimens 
 of men in camp, I suppose," sfe*said reflect- 
 ively, to the chief engineer when he was call- 
 ing. / 
 
 "Oh, to be sure/ Miss Crofton, they drift to 
 a project like this." 
 
 "Some of the boys here on the ranch were 
 saying that a fellow by the name of Lantry, 
 one of the worst, created a good deal of trouble, 
 fighting and quarreling and bullying his bunk- 
 house mates. Isn't there any way to get rid 
 of such a brute?" 
 
 "One must look at it in the right way or 
 rather not look at it at all, for they are all 
 pretty much brute at bottom. They fight out 
 their troubles and seem to abide by the trial of 
 strength. During working-hours if they at- 
 tend to their jobs and earn their pay, that's all 
 we ask; after hours they're their own masters 
 and everyone of them would resent interference 
 wjrfi their liberty, even though it be a quarrel- 
 ftome liberty." 
 
 "But it isn't right that a bully like that man 
 try should be allowed to torment a cripple 
 Hop Spencer, a harmless fellow, and he 
 would be doing it all the time if it wasn't that 
 Afift *Hemple defended the latter. Now Lan-
 
 178 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 try threatens, so the boys here say, to injure 
 them both." 
 
 "What do you want me to do?" Corbetson 
 inquired, frowning, secretly vexed. 
 
 "Well, I'd think an order from you 
 would make the rougher ones respect others' 
 rights." 
 
 "Hemple seems, by all accounts, to go half 
 way in the quarrels still if you ask me, Miss 
 Crofton, I'll do everything in my power to ac- 
 complish what you wish." 
 
 "Mr. Hemple doesn't matter," she stated, 
 with an assumed indifference, "it's that poor 
 club-footed chap." 
 
 But Corbetson's suspicious mind was not 
 easily deceived; he read her interest in the ir- 
 repressible Hemple, distorted it, magnified it, 
 until his spirit gnawed at itself in a fever. 
 What she could see in the young laborer to 
 interest her was beyond his imagining; every 
 characteristic of the boy, his looks, his im- 
 pudent manner, his incorrigible insubordina- 
 tion, his brazen assurance, his conceited speech, 
 rasped his nerves and set his teeth on edge; 
 every visit the youth made to the Crofton ranft 
 he considered an intrusion and every bright 
 look elicited from the girl's eyes one robbed 

 
 UNDER THE CHIEF'S THUMB 173 
 
 from himself. But he was too cunning to ex- 
 hibit his real feelings for her inspection. 
 
 "I'll do my best to place the cripple and 
 Hemple where Lantry cannot interfere with 
 them," he said, in conclusion. 
 
 It was therefore with secret satisfaction that 
 he hit upon a plan which would at once remove 
 his unworthy rival from the field and at the 
 same time give him, Corbetson, the appearance 
 of performing a friendly act. Calling Dukane 
 to his office next morning he announced that 
 he appointed him to the position of assistant- 
 storekeeper; Pennick's health was bad and a 
 helper was necessary, while the berth carried 
 with it an increased salary, namely eighty-five 
 dollars. 
 
 Jimmy regarded him from under question- 
 ing brows. That the chief did not like him had 
 been only too evident since the first day he set 
 foot in camp; therefore this philanthropy was 
 only on the surface; therefore Corbetson by 
 this move imagined something to be gained. 
 To Jimmy's disadvantage of course I Though 
 he was certain that such was the case he could 
 not at once lay a finger upon the man's motive; 
 it would no doubt transpire unpleasantly in the 
 near future. As for the storekeeper, that in-
 
 174- THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 dividual's health was undoubtedly bad ; Jimmy 
 had observed this very hour in passing to the 
 office that Pennick who sat in a chair in the door 
 was exceedingly "jumpy" from steady pota- 
 tions out of a private jug which he kept. 
 
 "Well, how about it?" Corbetson inquired, 
 interrupting his speculations. 
 
 "I'll take the job." 
 
 "Very well, begin at once. That is all, Mr. 
 Hemple." 
 
 "Thank you, chief." 
 
 A flash of recognition of the splendid op- 
 portunities which would be afforded for private 
 investigation in this new position prompted 
 him to accept. The finer points of loyalty and 
 honor here concerned did not weaken his firm 
 purpose to search out the secret of the cement ; 
 had they been suggested by a third person he 
 would have looked at the man in astonishment. 
 Corbetson was grafting somewhere; that was 
 sufficient reason for making every effort to un- 
 mask the chief and to seize every advantage. 
 Certainly, he reflected as he turned into the 
 store, he could now make headway "get ac- 
 tion." 
 
 Half an Hour later he was displaying a 
 pair of overalls to a prospective purchaser
 
 UNDER THE CHIEF'S THUMB 175 
 
 while his superior and new master drowsed in 
 a chair. 
 
 "Those are unquestionably the finest trousers 
 on the market," Hemple remarked, head on 
 one side, extended hands exhibiting the humble 
 garment. "They are cut in the latest London 
 fashion, are guaranteed never to wear out or 
 lose the crease and are, my noble patron, the 
 acme of elegance." 
 
 "Cut out the funny business and wrap 'em 
 up," the buyer growled. 
 
 Dukane received the price, handed over the 
 package and watched the other depart. Then 
 he helped himself to a cigar out of the show- 
 case and pondered certain facts which he had 
 already discovered in his new situation. 
 
 In reality these were rather clues than facts ; 
 and a certain lively suspicion had taken shape 
 in his mind that it was not Dukane and Com- 
 pany who were responsible for the high prices 
 charged the workmen for merchandise, but the 
 storekeeper and behind him Corbetson. The 
 store did a pretty heavy volume of business, 
 there was no doubt of that. What had aroused 
 first his attention, then his doubt of the honesty 
 of the storekeeper, was a singular system of 
 book-keeping being practiced in the establish-
 
 176 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 ment. On a desk at the rear of the store he 
 had seen two ledgers lying side by side open at 
 the same page in each ; dates and entries of one 
 William Kenner's account ran identical in each 
 book, but the prices charged for the articles 
 were wholly at variance ; and a swift compari- 
 son on his part showed that one book carried 
 item by item a hundred per cent increase. He 
 turned to his own account in the books; the 
 same fact held true. One did not represent 
 cost to the company, for costs were not kept 
 in that fashion. What therefore did it mean? 
 At the first opportunity he resolved to ransack 
 the proprietor's letter files for statements of 
 the business, for reports, for anything which 
 would throw light on the subject. This must 
 be done secretly, silently and without arousing 
 suspicion ; and the best means of doing this was 
 what he revolved in his mind as he sat upon the 
 counter smoking and swinging his legs. 
 
 His meditations were interrupted by the ap- 
 pearance of the newspaper correspondent, the 
 man of Melton acquaintance, who entered the 
 door, pausing a moment to survey the store- 
 keeper who now slept stertorously with head 
 on one side and jaw fallen, then advanced to 
 the new clerk.
 
 UNDER THE CHIEF'S THUMB 177 
 
 "How goes the search?" Jimmy inquired 
 amiably, offering the man a cigar. 
 
 The correspondent eyed both Dukane and 
 the cigar with questioning doubt, though finally 
 accepting the weed and lighting it. He seated 
 himself on a chair face to face with the youth. 
 
 "You are a young devil," he said. "First 
 you send me into a scrape over at the town on 
 the railroad, then you no more than reach here 
 when you start an insurrection and beat up 
 three workmen with a gang you've organized, 
 and now you sit here as innocent as if you knew 
 nothing but how to wrap up packages of tea. 
 What are you going to start next?'* 
 
 "I am an opportunist : I follow no policy in 
 my campaign." 
 
 "A fellow who stirs up deviltry never does." 
 
 "All right, let it go at that," Jimmy said. 
 "What about the missing heir you're tracking 
 down? Found his dead^ body yet?" 
 
 "No and after my experiences in that hotel 
 I want no more suggestions from you where to 
 look for it." 
 
 "I've a new theory that " 
 
 "Xever mind, I don't want it. The young 
 fellow never came here, that's settled in my own 
 mind. He was probably drunk the night he
 
 178 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 got off the train if he did get off and he 
 just disappeared like a thousand other men. 
 Some day his bones will turn up and they will 
 be identified as his by the gold in his teeth, or 
 a collar-button, or some such nonsense." And 
 so saying he thrust his hands into his trousers' 
 pockets, straightened his legs and gazed pes- 
 simistically at the floor. 
 
 "If you want a body for purposes of identi- 
 fication, I'll go out and kill someone," Jimmy 
 offered, obligingly. 
 
 "A little more and you'd have done it last 
 night. The big fellow is pretty badly bruised 
 and he's mixing war medicine." 
 
 "Humph," said Dukane, scratching his cheek 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 All the indications pointed to a brewing 
 storm in the Lantry quarter. First, the Doc- 
 tor had given him warning, now the reporter, 
 while the general a^rnosphere of the camp 
 seemed surcharged with excitement as a result 
 of the encounter. Plenty of men there were 
 who had slapped him on the back with hearty 
 commendation for his treatment of the ruffian, 
 men who themselves had suffered under Lan- 
 try's petty tyranny and who in consequence 
 hated him, but whether their hatred would go
 
 UNDER THE CHIEF'S THUMB 179 
 
 further than words he doubted. He must 
 trust to his own nimble wits and to the loyalty 
 of the few who had stood by him. Lantry 
 would brood wrathfully until at last he thought 
 to take Dukane unawares, when he should be 
 able to mete out punishment to his brutal 
 heart's satisfaction. The next battle would be 
 more serious. 
 
 "Well, I think I'll walk over to Tunneltown 
 and then to the canal camp," the correspondent 
 stated, yawning; "might run across some trace 
 of young Dukane there, but it's not likely. I 
 can get back here by night. Two or three days 
 here will give me stuff for a story on the irriga- 
 tion project." 
 
 "If there's anything the chief can't tell you, 
 come to me." 
 
 "You're the real thing, I know," was the sar- 
 donic answer. 
 
 "Sure, come around any time." 
 
 "When that big scrapper finishes you, you 
 won't be so swelled on yourself. Here's hop- 
 ing he does it soon, for you're an insufferable 
 cub at present." 
 
 "Try and be on hand when it happens," 
 Jimmy called after him, genially. 
 
 This first day in the store was, as it turned
 
 180 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 out, destined to be an epochal one in the young 
 man's affairs ; for in addition to the correspond- 
 ent he had another and more inspiring visitor. 
 He was an ordinary gentleman, a man of that 
 smooth-faced, middle-sized, mild, unobtrusive 
 type who, because of modesty of person and 
 dress, is able to move among any order of 
 men in which its members chance to find them- 
 selves and attract no attention a chameleon- 
 like quality of value upon occasion. At pres- 
 ent the man would have been taken to be a 
 workman of the better class, but still a work- 
 man; and such indeed Dukane judged him to 
 be, since he wore a working shirt, dusty felt hat 
 and carried his coat upon his arm. 
 
 "Let me look at a pair of boots," he said, 
 after a casual glance towards the rear where 
 the leather stock was stored. 
 
 Jimmy led him thither and displayed several 
 pair carelessly. 
 
 "Is your name Hemple?" the man asked, 
 squinting at a boot, which he held up to the 
 light. 
 
 "Yes, you've got it." 
 
 The man handed him a paper and continued 
 his examination with the air of a sober, indus- 
 trious toiler who is anxious to get his money's
 
 UNDER THE CHIEF'S THUMB 181 
 
 worth. The sheet of paper revealed itself to 
 the youth as none other than the letter which 
 he had dispatched to the Corson Cement Com- 
 pany; with a memorandum from the manager 
 in reply upon the margin stating that the 
 bearer had been dispatched as requested and 
 was at the informant's service, was in fact the 
 company's assistant manager. Jimmy folded 
 the letter and placed it in his bosom with a sud- 
 den feeling of puffed-upness : recognition was 
 at last coming his way. He glanced at the 
 man, but the latter continued to inspect the 
 boot, turning it over and around as if genuinely 
 interested. 
 
 "Come with me," the youth said, and led the 
 visitor out the rear door. "Go up the river 
 until you come to a log in a clump of trees 
 about half a mile. We mustn't be seen to- 
 gether. I'll join you presently." 
 
 The man considered a moment, felt of his 
 pockets. 
 
 "I'm out of cigars," said he. 
 
 "I'll bring them," Jimmy cried, impatient at 
 the fellow's calm matter-of-factness, now that 
 an exciting moment had arrived. 
 
 For the youth's pulses were bounding, his 
 mind was on fire, his soul athirst with the vista
 
 182 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 of possibilities which had been all at once 
 opened up by this unexpected arrival of the 
 cement company's representative. Truth to 
 tell Dukane had been too busy of late to re- 
 member this particular coil which he had cast 
 out beyond the horizon. 
 
 Half an hour later, after informing his 
 drowsing employer of his intended absence, he 
 had scooted out the same door through which 
 he had led the stranger, had followed to the ap- 
 pointed spot. They sat side by side on the log. 
 
 "It's an extraordinary condition you make," 
 the man was saying. 
 
 "May sound like it, but I must have your 
 promise that nothing is to be said of what you 
 find out and nothing done, until I give the 
 word." 
 
 The man scrutinized him. 
 
 "I don't know yet but what the whole matter 
 will turn out to be a mare's nest." 
 
 Jimmy resolved upon a master-stroke, a 
 stroke that would absolutely seal the other's 
 lips. 
 
 "You've heard of young Dukane?" he asked. 
 
 "Who hasn't? the papers have been full of 
 his disappearance." 
 
 "Well, I'm him," was the calm rejoinder.
 
 UNDER THE CHIEF'S THUMB 183 
 
 "You!" 
 
 "Sure, me. I'm investigating on the quiet." 
 
 "But your father's company your father? 
 All this outcry?" 
 
 "That's the joke of it. The governor sent 
 me here to make a report, thought I was no 
 good. I happened to be robbed and my clothes 
 stolen and I was hauled over here as a bum to 
 work, under the name of Hemple. First thing 
 I saw some rotten work with the cement, so I 
 decided to wear the alias and investigate in fact. 
 It's fine, wouldn't have missed it for a pot of 
 money! That's why I say you've got to go by 
 my orders." 
 
 The mail looked at the end of his cigar, 
 "How do I know you're telling the truth?" 
 
 "Do you want to know whether your Com- 
 pany's being defrauded or do you not !" Jimmy 
 exclaimed in exasperation. "You ought to be 
 willing to take a sporting chance." 
 
 "I've nothing to lose, that's a fact. All 
 right, son, I go under your orders. You want 
 to open father's eyes, I see." 
 
 Dukane leaped to his feet in excitement as 
 the prospect of his stern parent coming to him 
 full of remorse for past harsh measures ex- 
 panded rosily in his mind.
 
 184 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "I certainly do I certainly do ! I want him 
 to see me standing on top of the dam, with this 
 crooked chief in chains at my feet." 
 
 A smile flickered across the other's face at 
 this Romanesque picture. 
 
 "You're the lost child, I guess. That sort 
 of talk fits in with the general description of 
 young Dukane." 
 
 "Bah! don't believe it. The newspapers 
 tried to make me out half a fool, half a tough 
 I wasn't either, though it's a fact I used to like 
 to get action on my money. And I do yet. 
 But here are the facts about the cement mys- 
 tery." 
 
 Under the pledge of secrecy which he be- 
 stowed anew he related the circumstance of the 
 exchange of cement from one set of sacks to 
 the other as he had witnessed the transfer dur- 
 ing his first day in Melton, and as it had no 
 doubt regularly occurred often since. More- 
 over he communicated his serious suspicions re- 
 garding the fraudulent dam construction. 
 
 "No honest dam is built in such fashion," the 
 man stated, after listening attentively. "I'll 
 have a look at it. How can it escape the in- 
 spector? Or is he crooked too?" 
 
 "He hasn't put in an appearance yet but
 
 stop ! I remember now that a man did come, 
 who made the rounds for a day or two that 
 was when I was shoveling at the mixer. There 
 was a thin layer of concrete rilled in over the 
 rubble to give it the appearance of solidity;." 
 
 "And the assistant engineers?" 
 
 "They're straight, straight as strings. But 
 they believe they're working under approved 
 plans, though they know the plans to be bad. 
 That's all in the world that keeps them here, 
 Mr. Kendle; they consider themselves under 
 orders like soldiers." 
 
 "I know how that goes." 
 
 Kendle lighted a fresh cigar, nursed his knee 
 a long time in silence, while his brow remained 
 knit. 
 
 "Between Dukane and Company and the in- 
 spector on the one hand and these engineers on 
 the other, the fraud ought to show up in the 
 blue-prints unless " 
 
 "Unless what?" Jimmy encouraged. 
 
 "Could this Corbetson be working two sets, 
 a straight one for the inspector and a spurious 
 one for his assistants?" 
 
 "By heaven!" gasped Jimmy. 
 
 "Well, you're in a position to see or rather 
 oversee," Kendle quietly suggested.
 
 186 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "And I will see, or my name shall never 
 change from Hemple!" 
 
 For a time Kendle puffed and eyed the rest- 
 less youth. A shade less of impersonality 
 showed in his manner, a shade more of friend- 
 liness. To himself he must have admitted, had 
 the question arisen in his mind, that this new 
 acquaintance was somewhat startling and no 
 doubt would under other circumstances be 
 rather trying. 
 
 "This business ought to establish you in the 
 good graces of Dukane and Company," he 
 offered, as mild flattery. 
 
 Jimmy halted sharply in his pacing. 
 
 "What's that! Establish! It looks to me 
 after the botch the company's made of it, let- 
 ting this two-for-a-quarter Corbetson pilfer 
 their pockets in such a fashion, that it's up to 
 them to establish themselves in my good graces. 
 They don't want to try any patronizing talk 
 with me. They'll have come to me about dams 
 as they'd come to an expert." 
 
 "Ah, I hadn't considered that view." 
 
 "No, and probably they haven't, but they'll 
 have to come to it, for I'm going to build this 
 dam. Up till now Corbetson hasn't done 
 enough damage but what can be easily repaired,
 
 UNDER THE CHIEF'S THUMB 187 
 
 if I can get him out in time." Under stress of 
 this new and pressing necessity Jimmy once 
 more took to pacing up and down the river 
 bank, occasionally passing a hand across his 
 brow with a perplexed air. "It's this way," 
 he continued. "The dam goes up slowly, each 
 form has to harden. During the time I've 
 been here it's gone up a few feet, for it's a big 
 work you know. Well, if I can catch him with 
 the goods pretty soon now, I can have the men 
 jump in and tear out all the rubble and thin 
 stuff he's spread over it and then we shall fill 
 up the empty forms with genuine reinforced 
 concrete which won't cause much loss or delay. 
 I've got it all figured out how I'll do it." His 
 stride fell into a more meditative step. "Since 
 they build up alternate forms, it will by Jove, 
 I believe that thief has been stealing the rail- 
 road rails that ought to have gone in to rein- 
 force the concrete! Why, there isn't enough 
 steel in that shell to make a common theatre 
 trunk!" 
 
 This new discovery was cause for a fresh tor- 
 rent of anathemas which were directed in swift 
 succession at the person of the chief. That 
 Jimmy had not until now discovered this addi- 
 tional theft augmented in his mind the degree
 
 188 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 and nature of the sin. He at last cooled down, 
 however, when his companion informed him that 
 he had been absent from the store something 
 over an hour and that wisdom dictated that they 
 should for the present separate. 
 
 "I'll examine the dam myself," Kendle said, 
 "return to Melton to watch the station agent, 
 ride to a station east or west and telegraph my 
 company to start someone out to run down the 
 office, the plant and history of this Roseland 
 concern." 
 
 A sudden inspiration struck the j r outh. 
 
 "Old man Roseland lives west here only 
 twenty miles. Go see him yourself." 
 
 "Very well and then?" 
 
 "Report to me." 
 
 Kendle laughed and said ironically, "I'll do 
 so, my young master." 
 
 "That's right, I'm the boss. I'm up against 
 a stone wall in obtaining this information from 
 the outside and so need you, but I'm running 
 the affair just the same as if I hadn't called 
 your company to my aid." 
 
 "Don't rub it in." 
 
 "Well, bear the fact in mind just the same," 
 Jimmy stated, significantly. 
 
 During the afternoon of that day the young
 
 UNDER THE CHIEF'S THUMB 189 
 
 clerk standing at intervals in the store door 
 imagined he saw his newly-acquired ally mov- 
 ing among the workmen on the dam, but con- 
 sidering the distance that he was gazing and 
 the fact that the men were indistinguishable he 
 concluded his eyes were playing him tricks. 
 Further, he decided that he liked Kendle. 
 About the latter person there was nothing offi- 
 cious, he reflected, or forward, or presuming, 
 or self-assertive, or egotistical, or anything of 
 that sort which rubbed a fellow the wrong way 
 and stirred up one's antagonism. They should 
 get along together famously. 
 
 The real business of the day, so far as the 
 store was concerned, began after supper when 
 the laborers were at leisure to make purchases, 
 to inquire as to their accounts, or to call for 
 mail. Articles of apparel were in heavy de- 
 mand, since from the rough character of the 
 work in which the men were engaged, clothes 
 were speedily worn out, while accidents and 
 mishaps increased their naturally rapid wear 
 and tear. For the most part the purchasers 
 were easily satisfied, but as there was a steady 
 stream of them demanding everything from 
 chewing tobacco to boots both Dukane and the 
 proprietor were allowed no interval of rest.
 
 190 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 By ten o'clock, however, the rush was over and 
 the proprietor retired to his bedroom, telling 
 Jimmy to wait until eleven, when he should 
 close up. 
 
 "Is this the regular thing every night?" the 
 youth inquired, with a sudden suspicion filling 
 his mind. 
 
 "Yes, pretty much the same," Pennick an- 
 swered. 
 
 Jimmy brooded. "That is why Corbetson 
 wanted me in here," he declared vengefully, "so 
 I couldn't call at the ranch, wanted to get me 
 out of the way. Oh, the double-dyed villain, 
 the black-hearted scoundrel, the unbaked con- 
 spirator ! I'll cut his throat yet ! To keep me 
 from seeing the sweetest angel that ever trod 
 God's green " 
 
 He cut off his utterance abruptly at the ap- 
 pearance of the newspaper correspondent who 
 once more entered the building. The man ad- 
 vanced with a fine air of assurance, despite the 
 glare which Dukane gave him on account of in- 
 terrupting the tender climax of his soliloquy. 
 
 "Say, young fellow, an idea just struck me," 
 the correspondent stated. 
 
 "Then save it, for you need what few you 
 get," was the withering reply.
 
 UNDER THE CHIEF'S THUMB 191 
 
 The reporter held forth a hand. 
 
 "Let me see your left arm." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "I saw a birth-mark on it near the elbow this 
 morning. Just remembered that young Du- 
 kane was described as having one. You had 
 your sleeves rolled up, but I didn't notice yours 
 particularly. Let me see it." 
 
 A thrill of fear shot through Jimmy. Was 
 this inquisitive news-purveyor going to dis- 
 cover his identity at last and blare it to the 
 world? Were all his plans to be ruined?"" 
 
 "Shame on you, I lost my left arm in the 
 war," he bluffed. 
 
 "I want to see that birth-mark." 
 
 "Yes, I'm covered with 'em like a leopard. 
 Get out or I'll decorate your face," Dukane ex- 
 claimed savagely. 
 
 "But why" 
 
 Leaping down, Jimmy rushed at him. The 
 man melted into the darkness of the night.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 
 
 TVTEANWHILE on the surface of things 
 * work went forward with its accustomed 
 vigor. Across the basin the stone crusher 
 roared and rumbled, stamping out a great heap 
 of fine fresh white rock; from this the mixer 
 fed, adding its coarse note to the resounding 
 medley of machinery and water, its great octag- 
 onal barrel revolving incessantly from early 
 morn till noon, from noon till evening; men 
 swarmed over the dam site, building new forms, 
 clearing away cliffi sides, handling concrete; 
 from Melton Miller's train of wagons hauled 
 endless loads. The evidence of patient persist- 
 ence, of a slow winning to victory, which mani- 
 fested itself throughout and directed the work 
 on every hand to a definite end, caused young 
 Dukane to ponder, comprehend and pay un- 
 spoken tribute to the mighty organization 
 which his father had created. Corbetson alone 
 had turned out to be the cog with a flaw. 
 
 199
 
 FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 193 
 
 All unknowing the reflections of which he 
 formed the subject the chief engineer was hav- 
 ing ever increased worries, an ever added bur- 
 den of anxiety. Like a plant in a cellar, a 
 secret grows towards the light. An evil se- 
 cret so strives most incessantly of all. If 
 there be any one thing that inevitably points 
 as proof that man was born to do what is 
 fundamentally right it is this extraordinary 
 evidence of the workings of a man's own mind 
 to reveal his crimes. Corbetson was begin- 
 ning to realize that ill-gotten gains are always 
 dearly paid for; for his he was paying in con- 
 stant worry, fears, sleeplessness ; but like most 
 criminals, now that he was fairly launched on 
 his dishonest course, he only the more resolved 
 to follow it to the end and reap its fruits. His 
 friend, his companion, his solace, during the 
 nights when he was alone, when his thoughts 
 were no longer occupied by the various busi- 
 ness demands of the day, was his bottle. 
 More and more frequently he had recourse to 
 it; and with the coming of midnight he had 
 generally drunk a pint or so of the whiskey 
 and won that misty peace of mind which would 
 enable him to sleep. 
 
 A new fear had come to clutch at his heart.
 
 194 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Ever since he had received his warning tele- 
 gram from Pittsburg of the coming of the in- 
 spector, when in consequence he had required 
 the loose core of stone to be coated over with 
 a false layer of concrete, giving it an appear- 
 ance of solidity, his two assistants had been 
 "cold" on the work of construction. To them 
 he had represented it as orders from San Fran- 
 cisco; they believed Dukane and Company 
 "grafting" and their sense of honesty was 
 sickened at this new knowledge; and Corbet- 
 son seriously doubted if they would submit to 
 further acquiescence in such a palpable fraud, 
 dreaded lest they resign. Such action on their 
 part would cause the coast office to ask them 
 for reasons and neither Satterfield nor Les- 
 chelles, once having made the move, would 
 hesitate to give them as well as their opinions 
 of such character of work. And then the 
 chief's fat would be in the fire! Yes, Corbet- 
 son had cause to worry and tremble at shadows, 
 since behind the shadows were solid persons. 
 
 Dukane, studying the man from the vantage 
 afforded by being under the same roof, soon 
 perceived that the chief was always stealthily 
 on guard; and now since the idea had been put 
 into the boy's head by Kendle that possibly
 
 FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 195 
 
 Corbetson was playing a hidden game with 
 two sets of maps, Jimmy swiftly found an ex- 
 planation for such ceaseless vigilance. The in- 
 criminating maps were the things to lay hands 
 on, but naturally this particular work was at- 
 tended by greatest difficulty. He would have 
 to await his chance. And therefore he set him- 
 self meanwhile to work to ferret out the lesser 
 "graft," that of the store. 
 
 That night, when Pennick, the storekeeper, 
 was fast asleep, Jimmy stooped with ear to his 
 employer's keyhole to listen to his snores ; then 
 the youth began a search for evidence. Be- 
 cause he knew nothing whatever of bookkeep- 
 ing and business the task was all the more per- 
 plexing; but undismayed he carried armloads 
 of letter-files, bill-cases and accounts into 
 his own sleeping-closet, where with window 
 heavily curtained against possible "peepers," 
 he burrowed manfully through the mass. At 
 last he came upon a number of statements and 
 weekly reports to the San Francisco office's 
 accountant which betrayed the plot. Jimmy 
 laid a finger on his nose and gloated like a cun- 
 ning notary in a melodrama. These reports 
 purported to show the store selling merchan- 
 dise to the workmen at cost, plus freight and
 
 196 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 operating expense; whereas, in reality (Jim- 
 my's agile mind calculated it on the instant) 
 Corbetson and Pennick were dishonestly mak- 
 ing a hundred per cent, profit for their own 
 pockets. It was all clear, all simple. Three 
 o'clock marked the face of the tin clock before 
 Dukane restored the files and retired virtu- 
 ously to his bed, a new plan buzzing in his 
 brain. At last, in a jumbled phantasmagoria 
 of dreams in which whirled Corbetson and 
 Enid Crofton and Kendle and the reporter, 
 maps and reports and bags of cement and 
 creels of trout, he fell into a heavy sleep. 
 
 About eleven o'clock next morning Enid 
 Crofton herself walked into the emporium 
 where our young hero leaned against a coun- 
 ter staring into space and meditating the nu- 
 merous matters which now filled his bounding 
 life to capacity. 
 
 "I heard you were here," said she, drawing 
 off her gauntlets. "This work is much more 
 suited to your capabilities than are shoveling 
 rock and driving freight- teams. It was kind 
 of Mr. Corbetson to take an interest in you." 
 
 "The chief is a dear," said he, ironically. 
 
 "That speech is disrespectful and ungrate- 
 ful."
 
 FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 197 
 
 Jimmy placed a chair for her. 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me that you believe old 
 Corbetson put me here out of kindness?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 "If not, what? And you shouldn't speak of 
 him as old he's not so old, you know." 
 
 But Jimmy was frankly sceptical. "Forty 
 may not be old for a would-be husband, but 
 still it's where a man can look down the other 
 side of the hill. I'll tell you why he put me 
 here ; because of you." 
 
 "I did ask him to move you and Hop 
 Spencer where that ruffian Lantry and his 
 men couldn't hurt you." 
 
 At this bit of news a hot flush colored 
 Jimmy's face. His eyes flashed indignantly; 
 violent thoughts coursed and re-Coursed 
 through his mind. His sturdy figure swelled 
 with resentment at such unsolicited aid which 
 put him in the light of being afraid of 
 Lantry. 
 
 "You did that, did you !" he exclaimed. "If 
 you think I'd cringe before that scoundrel you 
 ought to take a look at him since I finished 
 beating him to pieces. Lantry hurt me? 
 Well, I guess not!" 
 
 "He's a dangerous man."
 
 198 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "He doesn't think he's half as dangerous as 
 he used to." 
 
 "But it would be a shame if those ruffians 
 who're in the habit of fighting should " 
 
 The youth dismissed the unfinished remark 
 with a wave of the hand. 
 
 "I can take care of Mr. Hemple," said he. 
 "So you spoke to the chief but that wasn't 
 what I meant when I said he moved me 
 here on account of you. It was to put me 
 out of the running, the old scamp! He 
 knew that I'd be so busy here in the store 
 nights that I'd never get away to call upon 
 you. That man's^a villain if there ever was 
 
 
 
 [pw absurd you are." 
 teve it or not, as you will, I speak the 
 
 .n^^^^^^te 
 
 The chief is jealous of anyone who 
 looks at you excefj^nself ." 
 
 Enid sat up, creasing her gloves rapidly. 
 
 "You forget, Mr. HempleJHpR we quar- 
 reled one time on this very subject. We'd 
 best not mention it again." 
 
 Dukane gloomed a moment, then bright- 
 ened. 
 
 "That's agreeable to me. I'll recite my own 
 tale of love for you; I've thought of a million
 
 FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 199 
 
 new things to tell you about it that you'd love 
 to hear. I " 
 
 "You're too impetuous," said she, rising. 
 
 "Do you want a lover who resembles a cold 
 potato?" was his ardent rejoinder. 
 
 "I don't want any lover at all." 
 
 "Well, you've got one and that's all there 
 is about it," Jimmy stated conclusively, shov- 
 ing his hands into his pockets. "When I start 
 for a thing I never quit; I go ahead until I 
 win or am knocked on the pate. You'll have 
 to decide one way or the other in the end, take 
 me or kill me, for I'm your relentless lover. I 
 sit up nights reading Tennyson's Enid over 
 and over ; I lean out of my window under the 
 stars of night gazing towards the spot where 
 you dwell. Why, I have " 
 
 Enid once more sat down. "When you've 
 Ifoushed and regained a calm state of mind, I'll 
 buy a box of chocolates." 
 
 While pretending to ignore his impassioned 
 words she was not only not averse to them, but 
 enjoyed them keenly. They started a respon- 
 sive thrill in her breast, the^ flash of his eyes 
 bespoke sincerity and she experienced anew 
 the rapture which she had known when he 
 voiced the same thoughts beside the river.
 
 200 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Chocolates oh, ye heavens 1" he cried in 
 despair. "A girl would think of chocolates 
 if she were on her way to Paradise." He 
 brought a beribboned box from a case and 
 placed it in her hand. 
 
 She rose, looked about the store. An irre- 
 sistible impulse moved her, a wayward, auda- 
 cious impulse. 
 
 "Shut your eyes," she commanded. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Shut them and promise to keep them shut 
 while you count one hundred." 
 
 "But" 
 
 "Will you?" She gave an impatient little 
 stamp of her foot. 
 
 Jimmy obeyed. Suddenly two hands caught 
 his cheeks, suddenly on his lips was imprinted 
 the softest, warmest, sweetest kiss in the world, 
 then as his eyes despite his promise popped 
 open there was a scamper of skirts, a spring 
 of a light figure into the saddle and the swift 
 retreat of hoofbeats. 
 
 The youth stood as one who had been kissed 
 by a goddess and now was turned to marble. 
 Had the heavens been rent asunder before 
 his eyes he could not have been more dum-
 
 FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 
 
 founded, more transfixed in delicious ecstasy. 
 Then all at once he dashed to the door and 
 out into the open ; but all he perceived was her 
 figure on that of her pony flying up the river 
 road. He drew an abstracted hand across his 
 brow. 
 
 "She doesn't hate me at any rate,'* he ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 When he returned inside he drew forth the 
 longest cigar in the showcase, for this ex- 
 traordinary miracle needed profound thought, 
 and promptly went into a brown study in the 
 midst of a cloud of smoke. From time to time 
 inarticulate sounds could have been heard issu- 
 ing from his lips, sounds which might have 
 represented words but which carried with them 
 no intelligibility. 
 
 From this condition he slowly emerged 
 when Kendle presented himself before him. 
 The dam was all that Dukane had stated it to 
 be, he remarked, which was a fraud; he was 
 now ready to proceed to Melton and carry on 
 his investigations from that point. Jimmy 
 leaped down from his perch and caught him 
 by the elbow, speaking dramatically into his 
 ear.
 
 203 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "But that will let us into a lot of trouble," 
 Kendle protested, in answer to the youth's 
 proposal. 
 
 "Not a speck. The man's a coward, an ar- 
 rant coward." 
 
 Then once more he poured forth his plan, 
 all the while gripping Kendle's elbow as in a 
 vice, brushing aside scruples, beating down ob- 
 jections, sweeping the man forward by the 
 very vehemence of his speech, until perforce 
 he agreed. 
 
 "You're on the high road to crime yourself," 
 Kendle announced, "but I've agreed to back 
 you up and I will. Hope we don't get shot in 
 the act." 
 
 "Shot nothing! If there's any shooting I'll 
 do it myself. Try a fresh cigar." Jimmy 
 made very free with the company's tobacco. 
 
 The rest of that day was one of impatience 
 for Dukane. An intense desire possessed him 
 to see Enid Crofton once more, while a vexa- 
 tious worriment at the laggard passing of the 
 hours until the moment when he should put 
 into execution the first move in his active cam- 
 paign against Corbetson fretted his spirit. 
 The chief, Jimmy perceived, was well pleased 
 with the success of his stratagem in enticing the
 
 FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 203 
 
 youth into a position where he was forced to 
 abandon his evening visits to the ranch-house. 
 Indeed, the man with an outward display of 
 interest entered the store to inquire how Du- 
 kane liked the new work. Jimmy, who would 
 not be triumphed over, gritted his teeth and 
 grinned as if he were wholly abandoned to joy. 
 He pronounced it fine, splendid, grand; he 
 stated that he had longed all his life to be a 
 counter-jumper; he could now die happy. 
 This reply Corbetson received suspiciously, 
 but as he could not at the moment conceive 
 how Dukane could circumvent him in the affair 
 of Enid Crofton he departed still well con- 
 tent. 
 
 Jimmy shook his fist behind the man's back, 
 pronouncing unutterable threats. One does 
 not enjoy being made a mock, and such Cor- 
 betson sought to make of him. But Enid had 
 kissed him him Jimmy Hemple! Oh, he 
 would have loved to tell the man that ! What 
 jealousy it would have stirred in the chief's 
 breast, what a rage in his heart! And with 
 such comfort as this thought gave him the 
 youth fiercely set to work to pile in order a 
 tumbled mass of overalls. 
 
 It seemed as if he was not yet at an end of
 
 204 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 being tormented. The correspondent put his 
 head in the door. 
 
 "Ready to let me see that arm?" he de- 
 manded. 
 
 "Move on, you're no surgeon," Jimmy re- 
 torted. 
 
 "Nevertheless, my son, I intend to have a 
 look at it." 
 
 The clerk ceased his labor. 
 
 "Come ahead, if you think you're able," he 
 exclaimed, belligerently. 
 
 "Not this morning, but soon. I don't pose 
 as a fighter. You can talk till you're tired, 
 but I've an inkling here" the man tapped his 
 brain "of who you are. I stay in camp until 
 I find out one way or another." 
 
 "Your visit will be protracted, I imagine." 
 
 "Well, I just wanted to give you warning. 
 I don't want you to yelp if you get the worst 
 of it." 
 
 "Not me and don't you bellow either." 
 
 "We'll see, we'll see, my sporty young 
 friend." And with a sagacious nod the 
 speaker disappeared. 
 
 "That fellow's walking into trouble," Du- 
 kane remarked to himself darkly.
 
 FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 205 
 
 The day dragged out. Jimmy ate a tre- 
 mendous supper in expectation of an arduous 
 night's work work which was not wholly to 
 be confined to his customary duties in the store. 
 With an enthusiasm which cloaked a growing 
 spirit of excitement, he dispensed merchandise 
 to the workmen who trooped in during the 
 evening. Coats he recommended as garments 
 of iron, while "pants" he guaranteed to wear 
 forever. He displayed a fine abandon of 
 spirit in hurrying from one customer to an- 
 other, relieving the ever-weary Pennick and 
 exhibiting a solicitude for the latter's ease 
 which won him a place in the proprietor's es- 
 teem equal to being the apple of that man's 
 watery eye. 
 
 "You're all right, Jimmy," was the enco- 
 mium which Pennick pronounced at eleven 
 o'clock, when they closed and locked the door 
 and turned out the lights. 
 
 "I want to please you," was the modest re- 
 joinder. 
 
 "You do, you're the real quill, son," he gave 
 a huge yawn. "Damn it, I must work on the 
 books and I'm sleepy." 
 
 "Wouldn't do it if I were you."
 
 206 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Well, I'll see." 
 
 He slumped back towards his sleeping 
 room which like his clerk's had been formed by 
 partitioning off a space in the rear of the store. 
 Jimmy watched him go; the youth could see 
 him pouring out a half-tumbler of whiskey. 
 Then Dukane stole to the case holding revolv- 
 ers, selected the largest he could find, a long- 
 barreled Colts, and carefully loaded each cham- 
 ber. Dropping the weapon into his pocket he 
 next lighted a lantern and set it in the store 
 window, veiling its beams in such fashion that 
 they could be seen only from the road in front. 
 Presently there came a soft tap on the pane, 
 the listening clerk pounced upon the lantern, 
 blew out its flame and then restored the utensil 
 to its place on a shelf. 
 
 Exultation sent his blood singing; the plot 
 was afoot. Cautiously opening the door he 
 drew a second figure into the darkness of the 
 store; he whispered a few final instructions into 
 his accomplice's ear, then moved towards Pen- 
 nick's room. 
 
 The door was still open. Pennick was evi- 
 dently considering whether or not he should in- 
 dulge in another drink, for his eye rested 
 thoughtfully on the glass and bottle which re-
 
 FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 207 
 
 posed within reach upon the wash stand. His 
 gaunt figure was inert; his face wore a melan- 
 choly expression. 
 
 " Thank you, I will," said Jimmy, entering 
 the room. 
 
 He poured himself a portion, swallowed it 
 and suddenly grabbed for his handkerchief as 
 the hot tears welled into his eyes. 
 
 "Almost pure alcohol," he gasped, after a 
 moment. 
 
 "Pretty strong for a fact, but I like whiskey 
 I can taste." 
 
 "Well, that's too bad then." 
 
 "What's too bad?" 
 
 "That you won't have much more of this 
 
 tt 
 
 particular kind." 
 
 "Why? There's a whole barrel of it in the 
 store." 
 
 "Yes, I know. But you see, Pennick, your 
 health's bad and you can't stay to enjoy the 
 whiskey. You're going away to-night." 
 
 "Go on to bed, don't be funny." 
 
 "It's the hard, hard truth I'm telling you, 
 my master. Perhaps you haven't known 
 whom you've had here to spot you, but when 
 you're looking at me you behold James A. 
 Dukane junior, son of the old man."
 
 208 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Pennick stared, incredulous, "You'll be try- 
 ing to sell me a gold brick next," he said. 
 
 Jimmy turned about. "Come in, Kendle." 
 His companion and abettor stepped into the 
 room, closing the door after him. "This is 
 the sheriff who has come to take you to the 
 penitentiary, Pennick, for robbing the com- 
 pany. I know all about it ; don't say a word, 
 it's too late." 
 
 "But I I " Pennick dropped upon the 
 edge of the bed where he sat pale and trem- 
 bling. 
 
 Jimmy drew forth his revolver and laid it 
 impressively on his knee as he leaned back in 
 the chair which he had calmly taken possession 
 of. 
 
 "Of course, if you want to make a confes- 
 sion, it will go easier with you," his clerk con- 
 tinued. "It's Corbetson we're really after." 
 He paused, while Pennick turned a distracted 
 face from one of them to the other. "You see, 
 I've all your weekly statements and can make 
 out a clear case." 
 
 "But you're Hemple," Pennick protested. 
 
 "This young man is James A. Dukane's 
 son," Kendle stated sternly, taking a step for- 
 ward. Then to Jimmy, "Shall I put the hand-
 
 FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 209 
 
 cuffs on him?" He rattled a handful of nails 
 in his pocket. 
 
 A tremor ran over the figure of the store- 
 keeper. 
 
 "Wait, wait!" he said. 
 
 Bowing his face in his hands he sat a long 
 time sunk in a morass of fear, anguish, nervous 
 terror and despair. The dogs of the law were 
 snapping at his heels or so he thought and 
 it had been Corbetson who had inveigled him 
 with smooth promises into this criminal busi- 
 ness, until now suddenly the penitentiary 
 loomed hideously before him. 
 
 "Let me have a drink," he said finally. 
 
 But his hand shook so violently that Jimmy 
 had to pour out the liquor. He gulped it off 
 at a draught. Dukane flung in a careless re- 
 mark that he would soon be where there was 
 only water to drink for the next twenty years. 
 
 "Don't be hard on me, men," Pennick said, 
 "I didn't get much the chief got most of it. 
 He put up the job and pulled me in, then he 
 took the big end. I never really started to 
 drinkin' hard till I got mixed in this ; it was the 
 only way I could keep my nerve up. It would 
 kill me to put me in prison my health's all 
 broke down."
 
 210 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Jimmy adopted a commiserative air. 
 
 "Look here, Pennick, I haven't anything 
 against you personally and what I say goes in 
 this matter. You've treated me decently 
 and maybe I can fix it so you won't have to go 
 to the lockup. Hold on, don't paw me all 
 over." For suddenly the man had staggered 
 towards him, clasping at his hand. 
 
 "For God's sake, Jimmy, give me a chance !" 
 he begged. 
 
 "All right," the boy made haste to say, 
 mightily embarrassed by the other's emotion. 
 "Go back to the bed and sit down. We'll see 
 what can be done." Then to Kendle, "Take 
 down his statement." 
 
 Under a line of questions Pennick eagerly 
 unbosomed himself as to the methods employed 
 in hoodwinking the company in the conduct 
 of the business. He brought books and pa- 
 pers to explain the system of double accounts, 
 pointing out how the plan as developed by 
 the chief had gradually been placed in opera- 
 tion, first by testing it in a small way, which 
 was extended finally to cover the whole busi- 
 ness. Kendle rapidly transcribed the man's 
 words into a lucid statement, which damned 
 Corbetson definitely and completely.
 
 FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 
 
 "Not bad, not bad," murmured Jimmy ap- 
 preciatively. 
 
 Thereupon with trembling but hopeful fin- 
 gers, the storekeeper attached his signature, 
 which in turn was witnessed by the pseudo- 
 sheriif. 
 
 Kendle scowled at the prisoner. "So I'm 
 not to get him into stripes after all," he said. 
 "An officer's work is always being tipped over 
 by you milk-hearted persons." 
 
 "Pennick shall not go to prison, I promise," 
 Dukane answered, with a great show of firm- 
 ness. 
 
 "And these cuffs are the very best, the latest, 
 in fact." Kendle idly dropped his hand into his 
 pocket and once more clinked the spikes. 
 
 "Don't! It makes me feel faint," Pennick 
 cried. "I just want to get away where I can 
 start over honest." 
 
 "Pack up then ; you're going to-night." 
 
 "To-night?" 
 
 "Yes, the sheriff will take you to Melton at 
 once, put you on the train and you can vanish." 
 
 A fresh paroxysm of fear took possession of 
 him. 
 
 "He'll arrest me, he won't let me go!" 
 
 "Never fear. All his orders come from me.
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 I want the combination of the safe before you 
 go, that's all. Write it out so that I'll have it. 
 Do you know anything of this cement steal 
 of the chief's?" 
 
 Pennick shook his head. "No, 'cept that 
 he's got one. I never tried to find out. The 
 store was bad enough." 
 
 Half an hour later the rear of the building 
 was shrouded in darkness. Two figures, 
 those of the proprietor and his clerk, stepped 
 through the rear door into the star-lit night 
 and moved across the ground towards a dark 
 blotch on the road, which gradually assumed 
 shape as a horse and buggy. A low conversa- 
 tion ensued, whereupon the proprietor climbed 
 in beside the waiting driver, while Dukane 
 stowed the valise he carried under the seat. 
 
 Pennick leaned out to shake the youth's 
 hand. 
 
 "I hope you catch him, the thief! I'd have 
 been all right but for him. I'll write to you 
 some time, Jimmy, wherever I am." 
 
 "Good-bye, Pennick, you've nothing to 
 fear." 
 
 The buggy drove softly away and melted 
 into the darkness that covered the earth. Du- 
 kane stood for a time motionless. Not a light
 
 FIRST MOVE IN THE PLOT 213 
 
 was visible, except the millions of stars over- 
 head that dropped their thread-like beams ; the 
 steady insistent voice of the river came from 
 the canyon. All the world slept except Jimmy 
 and the river and the two men climbing the rim 
 of Silver Peak Basin. 
 
 "Now for the chief," said Jimmy, turning 
 towards the store. 
 
 But it was to dream of a girl's fair face that 
 he went.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 AN UNOFFICIAL INVESTIGATION 
 
 blew a puff of smoke ceiling- 
 ward and gazed mildly at his chief and 
 superior. His chair was tilted back against 
 the counter, his heels were hooked on a round 
 and his knees were elevated as high as his chin. 
 The morning sunshine poured through the 
 open door, warm and pleasant. 
 
 "Pennick complained of pains," he stated. 
 "He was afraid that something was going to 
 happen to him, apparently, so he rushed off 
 last night leaving me in charge." 
 
 "That was an extraordinary thing to do, 
 and without consulting me," Corbetson re- 
 marked. 
 
 "Oh, he explained everything to me the 
 sales, accounts and books. I'm a fine book- 
 keeper." The other grew more and more vis- 
 ibly uneasy, darting glances first about the 
 store and then at Hemple. The latter con- 
 
 214
 
 AN UNOFFICIAL INVESTIGATION 15 
 
 tinued very much at ease, "Don't worry, chief. 
 He put me up to the scheme you're working 
 I'll attend to it all right, never fear." And 
 he bestowed an evil wink upon Corbetson. 
 
 "What are you talking about!" the chief 
 said, sharply. 
 
 "Ah, you might as well come down from that 
 kind of talk. How was the graft to go on" 
 at that word the other stiffened "if I didn't 
 know the particulars ? I assure you that I can 
 play rings around Pennick when it comes to 
 smooth work of that sort. Of course I must 
 have my slice." 
 
 Hating the youth as he did, Corbetson expe- 
 rienced a venomous desire to choke the life out 
 of him at this speech, but he saw himself help- 
 less, saw himself saddled through the strange 
 disappearance of the storekeeper with another 
 and undesirable accomplice. Already the 
 youth was familiarly presuming upon the fact ; 
 he would grow bolder as time passed. A thrill 
 of anxiety shot through the man's breast at the 
 new danger which this complication presented ; 
 the boy was reckless, audacious; unscrupulous ; 
 the first time he was crossed he might shout his 
 knowledge to the whole world. Dangerous in- 
 deed ; a child playing with powder ! And what
 
 216 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 was worse, Hemple would soon recognize his 
 power to flout Corbetson. 
 
 "It's just as well he's gone," he said, at- 
 tempting to speak with indifference. "Pen- 
 nick was half -crazy with liquor. Any story 
 he told you about " 
 
 "Nay, nay, old man, he showed me the books. 
 We might as well understand one another. I 
 get my whack at the pie or I'll yell my head 
 off, and that wouldn't be healthy for Mr. Cor- 
 betson. Don't act sulky; I'm in the deal, so 
 you might as well smile and be pleasant. It 
 looks like easy money and I'll take my chance 
 with you of going to jail." 
 
 "Keep your voice down," the chief ex- 
 claimed, fiercely. 
 
 "Well, we'll whisper then. How much do 
 I get out of it? I must know that at once." 
 
 Murder stood in Corbetson's eyes, while he 
 measured the future and hesitated at a deci- 
 sion. Clearly he was in a quandary ; the youth 
 knew now all about the transaction, while on 
 the other hand, he as chief must have someone 
 to conduct the business, and though he hated 
 Hemple with his whole soul and loathed the 
 prospect of partnership with him he saw noth- 
 ing else for it but this new alliance. Fate had
 
 AN UNOFFICIAL INVESTIGATION 217 
 
 in truth played him a scurvy trick; when he 
 thought to eliminate the boy from the field 
 wherein Enid Crofton was the prize, he had 
 in reality advanced him to a position of un- 
 holy power. What in the name of heaven had 
 Pennick meant by vanishing ? Surely, the man 
 was mad. Thus torn by doubts, fears, passions, 
 and alarms, the chief engineer at last said in 
 an indistinct voice that Hemple could have a 
 quarter share. The minute the words were 
 uttered he would have bitten off his tongue to 
 have them back. 
 
 "Good, the store will run along like a new 
 clock," Jimmy stated calmly. "But I'll need 
 a helper." 
 
 "Get some stupid individual who won't find 
 out too much," Corbetson snapped bitterly. 
 
 "I'll hire Hop Spencer. He couldn't tell 
 graft if he met it walking down the street. 
 You and I ought to feather our nests pretty 
 comfortably, old chap, before we're done here." 
 
 The unconcealed enthusiasm, the appalling 
 frankness with which Hemple voiced his senti- 
 ments made Corbetson's blood run cold, for 
 even to himself he had not, as never is the 
 fashion of new criminals, permitted the crime 
 to appear in his mind in all its natural naled-
 
 218 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 ness. Too hideously it shocked the ears when 
 spoken in this off-hand manner and conjured 
 up unpleasant associated pictures of punish- 
 ment. Would that Hemple were at the bot- 
 tom of the sea with a mill-stone about his neck I 
 And from that moment might have been dated 
 the blacker thoughts which engaged the chief's 
 mind. 
 
 Accordingly Hop Spencer was installed that 
 noon in the position of clerk so lately vacated 
 by his adored Jimmy and when he had brought 
 his bundle of possessions to his new habitation 
 he drank as from a cup of adoration the busi- 
 ness directions which Hemple outlined for his 
 guidance. 
 
 "You can read figures?" the proprietor in- 
 quired, with uplifted finger. Spencer nod- 
 ded. "Very well, all you have to do is to fol- 
 low the prices on the tags, gather in the coin 
 and smoke all the cigars you want. Leave the 
 liquor alone, for you walk with difficulty as it 
 is, Hop, and it would bring me to tears to see 
 you trying to carry a full cargo." 
 
 Spencer went off into a spasm of laughter. 
 He never drank a drop, as Hemple well knew, 
 and therefore this admonition was to him the 
 superlative degree of comicality.
 
 AN UNOFFICIAL INVESTIGATION 219 
 
 "I'll get drunk as a fiddler," he shouted. 
 
 "And if Lantry or any of his bunch annoy 
 you, shoot their heads off," Jimmy concluded. 
 
 The next week passed with only one incident 
 to mar the placidity of the storekeepers' lives. 
 For they were indeed busy, since Jimmy now 
 had the burden of bookkeeping to carry, a 
 strange complication of names and figures 
 which confused him mightily and wrung many 
 a groan from his lips; while Spencer 
 though he could read figures deciphered Pen- 
 nick's scrawl only after profound study and 
 these hieroglyphics engaged him hours at a 
 time, as he resolved to work his fingers off for 
 Hemple. Sometimes in his labors Dukane 
 would pause with uplifted pen to wonder if he 
 should ever see Enid Crof ton again ; for first it 
 was three days that elapsed since that momen- 
 tous morning when she kissed him, then four, 
 then five, without his having even so much as a 
 glimpse of her face. Bound as he was, like a 
 slave, to his self-imposed martyrdom it seemed 
 as if centuries had dragged their weary length 
 by during those five days. Then came the 
 night of the fifth day. 
 
 Dukane and Spencer had retired to bed, the 
 lame clerk in the room formerly occupied by
 
 220 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Pennick. Both were weary. It seemed to 
 Jimmy that he had scarcely closed his eyes 
 when he was aroused by a noise at his window, 
 a low creaking noise. He sat up, looked 
 wildly about and put one foot out upon the 
 floor. The hasp snapped, a period of waiting 
 silence ensued, then the window slid slowly 
 upward. Jimmy's heart galloped tumultously 
 in his chest and he wished that he had one of 
 the store's long cannon-like Colts revolvers in 
 his hand. A vow rose soundlessly from his 
 lips that hereafter he would carry half a dozen 
 to bed with him. Was this a burglar? Was 
 this Lantry bent on revenge? He sat rigid. 
 An instant later he bent stealthily and grasped 
 one of his shoes by the toe. In the pale light 
 framed by the casement of the window a figure 
 appeared climbing in, slowly, cautiously, noise- 
 lessly. At last the intruder gained the room. 
 Gathering up an armful of bed clothes Jimmy 
 swooped wildly upon him, at the same time ut- 
 tering a horrible yell ; and together, in one roll- 
 ing, tumbling, twisting mass of bodies and 
 blankets the pair landed upon the floor. Du- 
 kane had caught the night prowler unawares; 
 the blankets swathed the man's head and muf- 
 fled his cries; Dukane, half-naked, hammered
 
 AN UNOFFICIAL INVESTIGATION 
 
 him vigorously with the humble weapon of 
 leather which he carried. At last Spencer 
 awakened by the uproar, by the thumping of 
 bodies on the floor and against the partition, 
 hobbled upon the scene carrying a lamp. 
 
 "Help me tie him, it's a burglar," Jimmy 
 gasped "it" expressing the exact appearance 
 of the shapeless bundle which he continued to 
 whack, in spite of choked, protesting cries. 
 
 Dukane ceased. Gradually appeared a 
 towsled head, then a perspiring face, then a 
 pair of shoulders. 
 
 "Do you want to kill me?" the man de- 
 manded, indignantly. 
 
 "Aha, it's the reporter!" Jimmy exclaimed. 
 "So you've turned burglar." 
 
 "Nothing of the kind, I just came here on 
 business." 
 
 "A queer kind of business." 
 
 "I want a look at your arm and I intend to 
 have it. Because you act stubbornly about it, 
 I have to resort to any means I'm able. Do 
 you think my paper's keeping me here to do 
 nothing ? If you had any common sense you'd 
 let me see that arm and have it over with, in- 
 stead of causing me to go around nights sneak- 
 ing in windows when I want to be sleeping."
 
 822 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Jimmy in one of the store's night-shirts, 
 which had a brilliant embroidery in red down 
 the bosom, surveyed him ironically. 
 
 "Of course, the world is run for the sole ben- 
 efit of your paper," he suggested. 
 
 "Well, if you knew the old man, you'd think 
 so. I've got to turn up with some sort of story 
 about this Dukane affair I'm on or I lose my 
 job." 
 
 "Hop, show him one of your arms, if he 
 must see an arm." 
 
 Spencer obediently displayed not one but 
 both of those members to the sulky gaze of 
 the prisoner; they were brown, hard, well-mus- 
 cled arms, without a mark on them. 
 
 "I'll catch you yet," the correspondent said, 
 significantly to Hemple. "I've a nose for 
 news and you're the bird of paradise I'm after. 
 I feel it in my bones. If I only dared I'd 
 wire in to-morrow who I think you are." 
 
 "Why don't you take a sporting chance and 
 do it," Jimmy urged. "I'd enjoy posing for 
 awhile as the lost son and heir. Maybe it 
 would fetch some coin my way." 
 
 The reporter grunted an unpleasant reply, 
 then asked, "Well, are you going to keep me 
 here all night? I want to have some sleep."
 
 AN UNOFFICIAL INVESTIGATION 223 
 
 "Climb out the way you came. We can't 
 open doors for amateur burglars. And don't 
 try the same route twice, for you are likely to 
 receive a piece of lead on your next visit." 
 
 Dukane's reflections as he again returned 
 to his couch were not especially cheerful; the 
 chuckle with which he had climbed under the 
 covers gave way to anxious thought. The 
 newspaper man was uncomfortably near the 
 truth and uncomfortably determined to make it 
 the truth. Jimmy had before him a hot race. 
 Whether he could make certain of Corbetson's 
 principal iniquity and obtain the proofs thereof 
 before the reporter established the identity he 
 sought was the question. Once the tale was 
 put on the wires that he was Jimmy Dukane 
 and was here in Silver Peak Basin, the basket 
 would be kicked over and all his plans spilt. 
 For a time maledictions flowed from his lips 
 upon the head of the offending busybody; it 
 was only when he remembered the whacking 
 which he had given the fellow with his shoe 
 that the chuckles once more resumed their place 
 in his throat. 
 
 Thus, though he did not see his way out, 
 though indeed matters seemed hopelessly en- 
 tangled for the time, he realized that affairs
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 were pressing to an issue. Beyond doubt his 
 hands were full, what with the store, what with 
 Corbetson, Lantry, Enid Crofton and this re- 
 porter. For once in his life he was primed 
 with business to the chin, and if he had had dif- 
 ficulty in hitherto employing his time before 
 coming to this quarter of the world, such was 
 not now the case. He would, were the truth 
 known, have liked a period of rest, or if not 
 rest, at least of single occupation with a certain 
 girl. 
 
 Saturday dawned cloudy, with a threaten- 
 ing rain hanging low in the heavens. Silver 
 Peak was invisible, while along the ridge which 
 formed the rim of the basin billows of fog 
 rolled over the fringe of scattered pines; in 
 the canyon, now a gloomy cleft in the rock, 
 the river roared with a sullen angry voice. 
 
 Dukane standing before the store door 
 looked off at the low wooden frame which 
 held the form of the dam, at the black dots 
 which were workmen moving on and over the 
 scaffolding and measured with narrowed eyes 
 the progress being made. To the degree the 
 dam rose before he could make his final move 
 against the chief, whatever that should be, to 
 that degree would the rubbish which consti-
 
 AN UNOFFICIAL INVESTIGATION 
 
 tuted its core have to be torn out and re- 
 placed with genuine concrete. This would not 
 be easy; the thin layers of cement which cov- 
 ered the rubbish from time to time would no 
 doubt prove intractable enough to make the 
 necessary reconstruction difficult. With the 
 future rather than with the present, his 
 thoughts were therefore engaged, wrathful 
 thoughts that Corbetson should thus dare to 
 violate the trust imposed in him, while laying 
 a train of events which would result in withered 
 farms and ruined settlers. The breaking of 
 the dam, once the desert was made to blossom, 
 would be nothing short of a gigantic disaster. 
 And as he meditated, the gravity of the part he 
 played, the valuable purpose he was destined 
 to serve in preventing a crime against a num- 
 ber of fellow men, for the first time really as- 
 sumed full proportions in his mind. What 
 in the beginning had merely been an intense 
 personal desire to balk Corbetson now ap- 
 peared as something more serious, more com- 
 prehensive, greater and more worthy. To the 
 humble workmen w r ho toiled for two dollars 
 a day by the sweat of their brow, laboring un- 
 wittingly in a dishonest work, a duty was ow- 
 ing by him; to the younger engineers who
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 knew the wrong being committed and who yet 
 must out of loyalty to their employer keep si- 
 lent; to his father's company which was being 
 grossly betrayed ; to the owners who were build- 
 ing the project in good faith! For he had the 
 power to right the wrong. As the ramifica- 
 tions of the injury Corbetson's evil course 
 would work displayed themselves, he almost 
 shrank back appalled. He wiped his forehead 
 and gazed about; he must stop this sinister 
 business, stop it soon. 
 
 A sense of heavy responsibility depressed 
 him. This was a man's task he had under- 
 taken; and Corbetson, once he was aware he 
 was threatened by discovery, would turn it 
 into a man's war. Half-wonderingly, Du- 
 kane asked himself if he were equal to the 
 work ; if he were indeed a man and after all not 
 merely a boy. Then the image of his father 
 rose before him, that stern, fearless ruler who 
 could be generous to his enemies but who asked 
 no quarter. A warm flush of pride suffused 
 Jimmy at recollection of his parent and he 
 knew on the instant that in similar circum- 
 stances to those in which he himself stood Du- 
 kane senior would never have flinched. He 
 too would show that another Dukane could be
 
 AN UNOFFICIAL INVESTIGATION 227 
 
 a man, could grapple with grave obstacles and 
 be their master. Throwing back his shoulders, 
 he set his jaw. The son would be worthy the 
 father. 
 
 "I believe I'm entering a new era, as the 
 books say," he exclaimed aloud. "The gay 
 and scintillating past is a thing to be wiped 
 out in manful deeds. Dad will shed tears of 
 joy on my shoulder." Nevertheless though 
 his speech was light, his resolve was firm. 
 
 About noon he caught sight of Enid Crof- 
 ton riding a long way off; he ran out and 
 waved his hand frantically at her, but she did 
 not appear to see him, she rode on her way 
 without making response, until finally he was 
 compelled to give over in chagrin. Under or- 
 dinary circumstances this would have left him 
 ripe for the quarrel which Lantry attempted to 
 force upon him sometime later, but he was 
 learning to think twice on a matter before giv- 
 ing rein to his tongue. The fellow, accom- 
 panied by another man, stamped insolently 
 into the store and demanded a shirt. Jimmy 
 laid out several for his inspection, all the while 
 speaking circumspectly. 
 
 "Wrap it up quick or I'll tear off your 
 scalp," the man growled. And when he re-
 
 228 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 ceived the parcel, "Come outside and I'll pay 
 you what I owe." 
 
 "You can pay for the shirt or charge it," 
 Dukane said. 
 
 "Who's talkin' about shirts! You thought 
 you and your bunch could beat me up with 
 impunity; I'm goin' to get you for that busi- 
 ness, if I work in this camp for a year to do 
 it." 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 "Keep it in mind, you've got it comin' to 
 you. They'll take you to the hospital for a 
 month when I'm done." 
 
 The promised rain came that evening in the 
 form of a foggy drizzle, continuing throughout 
 Sunday and Monday. With the passage of 
 time Dukane grew more and more impatient to 
 learn whether his suspicions were correct as to 
 Corbetson's manipulating two sets of maps in 
 the construction of the dam. This fact he 
 must definitely verify. Watch as he would he 
 never beheld open the oaken chest which held 
 what must have been the two series of blue- 
 prints, though the false ones were always at 
 hand for the assistants' reference ; for the chief 
 carefully locked the box each time he raised 
 its lid. As has been stated the store occupied
 
 AN UNOFFICIAL INVESTIGATION 
 
 one-half of the double frame building, while 
 the chief's offices filled the other and a door, 
 usually open during the day, led from one 
 room to the other. Through this the youth 
 maintained his surveillance as he moved about 
 the store, hoping that the opportunity for 
 which he prayed would finally come. 
 
 Patience is generally rewarded in this world ; 
 about eleven o'clock he paused in an aisle be- 
 tween two counters, transfixed by a glimpse 
 of the chest which he caught through the open 
 door. It sat against the opposite side of the 
 long office, its lid was lifted, resting against 
 the wall. He stole forward and gazed into 
 the room. Corbetson stood over a long table 
 upon which were outspread two blue-prints side 
 by side, the corners of each fastened with 
 thumb tacks, and was evidently engaged in a 
 studied comparison, as his look moved back and 
 forth from one to the other. From time to 
 time he noted figures on a memorandum pad. 
 At last he loosened the tacks in one with his 
 knife-point, rolled up the sheet and stood con- 
 sidering, when as voices sounded outside he 
 glided silently to the chest, dropped the roll 
 within and lowered the lid. Leschelles and 
 Satterfield entered. With an ardent eye Du-
 
 230 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 kane observed that the chief turned to meet 
 them without locking the box. 
 
 A technical discussion ensued among the 
 three engineers. Dukane gradually withdrew 
 until he was sheltered by a pile of boots and 
 shoes heaped high on an open tray, from which 
 point of vantage he could still command the 
 interior of the office. The three men continued 
 to talk, occasionally consulting the map which 
 had been left upon the table. If the chief 
 would but leave the room for a fraction of a 
 second! and as the wish flashed through the 
 watcher's mind the three men moved towards 
 the door. They went out; Jimmy held his 
 breath, until the blood beat like little hammers 
 in his ears. Inch by inch he edged around the 
 pile of boots, moved towards the door ; he put 
 an eye to the line of its lintel and gazed at 
 the office front, through the windows of which 
 he could see the men standing outside. Their 
 backs were towards him; they pointed at the 
 dam, still discussing the point in question. 
 
 Should he risk the opportunity or should he 
 not? He measured the space he had to cross, 
 then glanced at the back of the chief engineer 
 visible through the glass. The men walked 
 forward a dozen paces, again halted. If the
 
 AN UNOFFICIAL INVESTIGATION 231 
 
 trick was ever to be turned, now was the time ; 
 but should Corbetson chance idly to turn he 
 could not miss the sight of Dukane's figure, 
 since the open door gave range of the whole 
 front office. With sudden decision Jimmy 
 went forward on tip-toe, swiftly, silently, and 
 now that the die was cast never transferred his 
 look from the chest. He breathed in short, 
 repressed breaths; his heart beat thunderously 
 in his bosom, while all the sensations of a bur- 
 glar forcing a dangerous enterprise were his. 
 
 Half a minute later he had the lid once 
 more leaning against the wall and he was 
 reaching for the topmost roll. Unfortunately 
 there were many rolls. Which was the one the 
 chief had last examined he had no way of 
 knowing. He bit his lip with vexation, tem- 
 porary anger ; he twitched in a fever of excite- 
 ment. Well, thought he, one might as well 
 be taken for a goat as a sheep; and there was 
 the consolation that the goat generally learned 
 what it wanted to know while the sheep did not. 
 Turning he slipped to the table and hurriedly 
 scanned the map outspread upon its surface; 
 with the outline which it stamped upon his 
 brain fresh in mind he fell upon the rolls in the 
 chest, opening each in turn until at the fifth
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 he found the one he desired the duplicate and 
 yet not the duplicate of the one on the table. 
 Success engenders boldness. With a sense 
 of newly acquired power he walked to the table 
 and spread the map beside its mate, thereby 
 tempting fate almost beyond endurance. But 
 it seems that audacity at times carries its own 
 protection; the chief continued to speak with 
 his assistants, never once facing about. The 
 maps were of only a section of the dam, but 
 to one who like Dukane had kept his ears and 
 eyes open and absorbed all manner of scraps of 
 information, they were readily intelligible. 
 The number on each 7 showed that they 
 were the same. In outline only, however, were 
 they similar; the one which the young investi- 
 gator held open indicated a solid construction 
 of reinforced concrete, while the other, the 
 working map, was wholly different in char- 
 acter ; it outlined a box-like structure, or rather 
 a series of box-like cells filled with loose stone ; 
 this, he perceived, corresponded exactly to the 
 actual form in which the dam was being built. 
 It was a fascinating study, one that confirmed 
 beyond doubt the suggestion made to him by 
 Kendle and which he had adopted for his own. 
 With these two sheets open side by side the
 
 AN UNOFFICIAL INVESTIGATION 
 
 fraudulent nature of the work was clear as 
 water. 
 
 A long, slow, immense sigh of satisfaction 
 issued from Dukane's lips. Next instant he 
 started up; a boot-heel had sounded on the 
 doorsill and he saw Corbetson advancing to- 
 wards him. The released map flew into a roll 
 in his hands, his thoughts raced at lightning 
 speed during the interval before the chief 
 reached him, in an effort to frame some plausi- 
 ble explanation of his act. Out of the cir- 
 cumstances however, his usually agile mind 
 found little material on which to build. 
 
 "What are you doing in here?" Corbetson 
 demanded. 
 
 In order to gain time Dukane sat down upon 
 the end of the table, swung a foot, ran his 
 hand through his hair, gazed about the room 
 and stroked the roll of paper he held. 
 
 "Nothing in particular," he replied mildly. 
 
 Corbetson seized the roll which he fingered, 
 jerked it open; his eyes played for an instant 
 to and fro between it and the one on the table. 
 Then he whirled quickly to look at the chest. 
 Out of his face the blood faded slowly, only 
 to return with a rush. 
 
 "You thief! What are you doing in that
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 box? What do you know about these maps!" 
 he exclaimed, with vehemence of passion 
 which Dukane would scarcely have credited to 
 the man. "You spy! Coming in here when 
 my back is turned to meddle in what doesn't 
 concern you!" 
 
 He took a step towards the youth, lifting a 
 clenched fist. His eye burned with half-mad 
 fury, his mustache showed on his lip in a stiff, 
 bristling line. 
 
 "Don't strike me!" Dukane cried, slipping 
 to his feet. 
 
 Nevertheless for the first time a real thrill 
 of fear ran through his body. For the eyes he 
 looked into were the eyes of a man temporarily 
 capable of murder. 
 
 "Breathe a word of what you've seen and 5: 
 Corbetson did not finish his threat with speech, 
 but his menace was plain. 
 
 "I've only one thing to say to you," Dukane 
 answered, setting his jaw. "I've a bullet for 
 the man who lays a finger on me." 
 
 And with another flashing interchange of 
 hostile looks each turned away.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE COUNTER STROKE 
 
 TT7HEREAS Corbetson had hitherto ex- 
 * * perienced that uneasy dread of discovery 
 which every criminal knows, he now suffered 
 the torments which come to the guilty man 
 when he learns that his crime is the knowledge 
 of another and has become a sharp sword over 
 his head. By nature, by training, the chief 
 engineer shrank from anything that partook 
 of the character of personal physical violence ; 
 he was cunning instead of daring. That it 
 should be Hemple of all men, the youth who 
 seemed by force of destiny to have been flung 
 as an obstacle across his path at every turn, 
 made the morsel all the more bitter; he could 
 not of course know that both Dukane's pur- 
 pose and acts were the result of deliberate 
 intention. From the colloquy which had en- 
 sued after Pennick's evanishment he believed 
 that the young man was as unscrupulous 
 as himself, that he possessed far more brains 
 
 235
 
 236 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 than the average run of workmen and that 
 having caught the chief engineer at a disadvan- 
 tage, would suck money out of him as a leech 
 sucks blood. Well, he would allow the boy 
 to hold the impression that he was successful 
 and meanwhile he would arrange to be rid of 
 him for good. Now there was Lantry who 
 also hated him. Corbetson sank back into his 
 revolving chair, his brows gradually drawing 
 closer and closer together. 
 
 As for the subject of his diabolical medita- 
 tions, Dukane took to standing often in the 
 rear of the store, whence he could look both to- 
 wards the Crofton home and towards the road 
 that led from Melton. For a girl who had vol- 
 untarily kissed him Enid was now singularly 
 perverse in not showing herself; while Kendle 
 was irritatingly slow in putting in an appear- 
 ance to report the success or failure of his 
 secret inquiry. Until the fact was thoroughly 
 established that the Roseland Cement Com- 
 pany, whatever kind of company it was, was 
 working with Corbetson in the fraud, the chain 
 of evidence would not be complete. Dukane 
 gradually worked himself into such a state of 
 fretful impatience that Hop Spencer believed 
 him attacked by some mysterious ailment and
 
 THE COUNTER STROKE 237 
 
 the cripple began to spend time reading the 
 labels on the bottles of the store's patent medi- 
 cine stock. 
 
 But on Wednesday this changed. A note 
 was left for Jimmy at the door which for the 
 time being banished his clouds and made the 
 day brilliant. It read : 
 
 "I will be riding on the ridge this evening. 
 Enid." 
 
 All his heart bounded up at this veiled ex- 
 pression of desire on her part to see him, to 
 meet him again and alone. In an ecstasy he 
 read the line over and over, repeating the 
 words half aloud, smiling on the dainty sheet 
 of note-paper and at last concluded by placing 
 it in his breast. Was she beginning to love 
 him? Had he drawn her heart to him? A 
 thousand anxious, happy, unanswered ques- 
 tions ran through his mind, a thousand fancied 
 interchanges of words and looks and speeches, 
 while for half an hour he sat on a cracker- 
 box behind the store whither he betook himself 
 and gazed in mute adoration at the distant 
 ranch house which guarded his beloved Enid. 
 
 About six o'clock he bethought himself that 
 he should have dispatched a reply; would she 
 not expect a reply?
 
 238 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Hop!" he shouted, then remembered that 
 Spencer had limped away to eat his supper. 
 
 So until his clerk's return he contained his 
 new impatience only by holding her note before 
 him, dreamily staring at it. Finally he took 
 pen and scratched across the bottom of the 
 sheet : 
 
 "I would go to the ends of the earth to gain 
 a single look from you. Jimmy." 
 
 His heart exulted as he conned this splendif- 
 erous avowal, this grandiloquent sentiment. 
 Sitting there with his body among piles of 
 overalls, of boots, of food, he nevertheless had 
 his head among the stars and drank the divine 
 glory which is only known by poets, martyrs, 
 and lovers. When at last Hop Spencer re- 
 turned he handed him the note, now folded in 
 a fresh envelope. 
 
 "Take this to Miss Crofton at once, Hop, 
 and don't soil it with your fingers," he com- 
 manded. "Carry it, my lame Mercury, as if 
 you were carrying a book with leaves of gold 
 bound by jewels to a princess in a far country. 
 Place it in her own hands, bow low and retire 
 without speech. This is the most important 
 mission you will ever perform in your life, 
 therefore go with due haste."
 
 THE COUNTER STROKE 239 
 
 Spencer was unquestionably impressed by 
 the eloquent style of the command. As be- 
 fitted an affair of great importance his face 
 settled into lines of gravity. He received the 
 letter and turned it over thrice, regarding it 
 reverently. 
 
 "But how about your supper?" he mustered 
 courage to ask. For his master to miss a meal 
 would be a serious matter. 
 
 Jimmy waved this aside with a lofty air. 
 
 "Stop in and tell the cook to keep something 
 warm," he said, "then deliver this and hurry 
 back, for you'll have to run the store awhile by 
 yourself." 
 
 It was a brilliant evening. The storm of 
 the early part of the week had brought the first 
 hint of autumn, leaving on its departure a 
 slight frost that had quenched here and there 
 upon a bush or tree the flow of green and edged 
 it with gold and crimson. The day was begin- 
 ning to die as Dukane set leisurely forth to- 
 wards the ridge, following a footpath that 
 skirted the basin rim instead of pursuing the 
 usual road. He had dismissed the immediate 
 burden of his secret war against Corbetsor*; 
 for the time being he resolved to put aside 
 care, to drink in the beauty of the passing day,
 
 240 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 to enjoy the meeting with Enid Crofton and 
 sip the cup of happiness of which of late he 
 had tasted so little. 
 
 His release from the confinement of the 
 store was like a new breath of life. He filled 
 his lungs with the crystal air; as he advanced 
 he gazed about him at the trees, the stones, the 
 rugged lofty mass of Silver Peak which wore 
 a fresh mantle of snow and presented a dif- 
 ferent aspect to the world. Among the bushes 
 on the rocky hillside a few invisible birds were 
 chirping, while over the whole basin descended 
 the peace of evening. 
 
 What a wondrous change had been wrought 
 in his life! He reviewed each subsequent 
 event from the moment he stepped off the pull- 
 man car until the present and marked how each 
 had contributed its share towards the transfor- 
 mation. It was as if Silver Peak Basin had 
 been cast by nature for this very purpose, as 
 if prepared as a background against which to 
 stage the small but eventful drama of his life. 
 Everything had led to it mountain, dam and 
 river. The denouement was yet to be en- 
 acted; what the end would be was yet to be 
 unfolded. 
 
 Presently he came to the road and ascended
 
 THE COUNTER STROKE 
 
 the hill. When he paused about half-way up 
 and looked toward the Crofton ranch, he be- 
 held a figure on horseback emerging from the 
 trees that framed the house she was coming! 
 He quickened his pace, he would be on top of 
 the ridge to greet her; and glancing over his 
 shoulder as he climbed he observed that she 
 was riding in his direction at a brisk canter. 
 By the time he completed the ascent she had 
 reached the foot of the ridge and was hidden 
 by the scrub of pines that grew scattering over 
 the earth. Seating himself upon a boulder he 
 pushed back his hat and surveyed the prospect 
 which the plain opened up before him. In the 
 evening light it seemed to swim in a lake of 
 purple, shot here and there with streaks of gold 
 or wine-color. The ineffable peace of ap- 
 proaching night filled it and the immense 
 space, the wide plain, seemed impregnated with 
 a sentient brooding soul. 
 
 Suddenly the youth was aroused from his 
 reverie by a noise in his rear. He turned his 
 head, then leaped to his feet, startled, alarmed, 
 on guard. For Lantry stood a few paces off, 
 while on every side men were appearing, from 
 trees, from bushes, from stones, as if all at 
 once sprang up out of crevices in the earth.
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "So here you are, waitin' to see your girl," 
 Lantry jeered. 
 
 Instantly the knowledge that he had been 
 tricked by a forged note flashed into Jimmy's 
 brain ; he looked at one and another of Lantry's 
 companions, eight of them, and perceived that 
 he was ringed about, that he had walked into 
 the trap prepared for him, that the camp ruf- 
 fian at last had him in his power. But how! 
 The plan of a forged note on dainty stationery 
 was too subtle for such a man. Could this be 
 Corbetson's counter-stroke? Had he taken 
 advantage of the enmity burning in Lantry's 
 breast against Hemple to employ the man for 
 his own scoundrelly purpose? And now to 
 complicate matters here rode also Enid Crof- 
 ton into the men's hands. 
 
 "Yes, I'm here. What do you want?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Why, the honor of your company," the 
 leader mocked. 
 
 A little distance behind Dukane a rock 
 shaped like an old-fashioned straw bee-hive 
 thrust itself out of the ground to the height of 
 some eight feet. Casting a quick glance about 
 him the boy observed it, saw that if he gained 
 its cover the men could approach him only in
 
 THE COUNTER STROKE 243 
 
 front. Jumping back two or three steps he 
 next instant stood with his back against its sur- 
 face ; though it was but a grain of comfort this 
 new position afforded him since he was out- 
 numbered nine to one. 
 
 He dropped his hands into his coat-pockets 
 and bent his black brows once more on Lantry. 
 
 "You're here by the chief's orders I see," he 
 remarked. 
 
 The success of the stratagem had put the 
 leader in the good humor which generally pre- 
 cedes brutality in brutal men. To his notion 
 the situation was one from which he could ex- 
 tract considerable amusement. 
 
 "Good guess. The chief is cleanin' the 
 tough characters out of camp and is beginnin' 
 with Jimmy Hemple." 
 
 "What do you intend to do with me?" 
 
 "Never you mind but it'll be a plenty. 
 Come along now." He took a step and put 
 out a hand towards Dukane, while his follow- 
 ers narrowed the circle which hemmed their 
 prisoner in. 
 
 Dukane brought forth his right hand ; it held 
 a large, business-like automatic revolver. At 
 sight of this ugly weapon which could pour 
 a stream of lead into their midst by the mere
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 pressure of a finger, Lantry drew back hastily 
 with his men following his example. Jimmy 
 said nothing. He ran his tongue over his lips 
 once, pulled his slouch hat down over his brow 
 a trifle lower and waited. 
 
 "Here put that up; we don't want any 
 shootin'," Lantry said. "Don't make a fool 
 of yourself." 
 
 In the face of such an overwhelming number 
 as surrounded him the leader had anticipated 
 that Hemple would yield with nothing more 
 than vocal protest. This was another kind of 
 affair; the sting which the boy carried was 
 likely to make it a bloody affair if they at- 
 tacked him. Some of the men drew back ; the 
 death either of themselves or of Hemple was 
 not part of the bargain, and they were well 
 aware that even if the prisoner with his back 
 against the rock was killed, three or four of 
 their own number would in the end be sacrificed 
 before a victory was obtained. Much as Lan- 
 try would personally have liked to see the boy 
 dead, much as he hated him, he was too shrewd 
 to seek his death under such circumstances. 
 Once it became known, and known it was bound 
 to be with so many participants, that nine men 
 had slain one youth nothing would stop the
 
 " Here, put that up; we don't want atiy shootin '," 
 Lantry said 
 
 Pagt 244
 
 THE COUNTER STROKE 245 
 
 vengeance that in truth would strike them. 
 Therefore this was not the occasion, or at least 
 not the way. 
 
 "Well, are you goin' to put that gun up?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 "No." 
 
 The entire affair, surprise, defense and talk, 
 had occurred rapidly. While half the men 
 kept a watchful eye upon Hemple, Lantry 
 consulted in a low voice with the others. The 
 upshot of this conference was that the men wi- 
 dened their circle a space, thus enclosing the 
 whole rock. By this maneuver Dukane could 
 not see the complete number, or follow the 
 movements of two who had moved . back out 
 of sight. Meanwhile he debated what course 
 to pursue, whether to remain where he was un- 
 til they either forced the fight or gave it up, or 
 to spring forward and by threat of his pistol 
 break through their ranks. 
 
 Again Lantry and the men in sight gathered 
 closer, so close indeed that they faced him but 
 three paces off. He leaned a little towards 
 them, gripping his revolver, shifting his eyes 
 from those in front to those who edged against 
 the sides of the rock, resolving never to be 
 taken alive.
 
 246 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "We don't intend to hurt you," Lantry 
 stated, "we only want to see that you go to 
 Melton and keep out of camp." 
 
 "Yes, I know you're the kind of man to 
 trust," Dukane replied, scornfully, "but when 
 I go away from here it will be when I'm ready, 
 not before." 
 
 Lantry's hatred flashed up. 
 
 "If you put up a fight, we'll drop you over 
 a cliff." 
 
 "Well, you're going to get the fight if you 
 move any nearer." 
 
 "Then I suppose we'll have to give it up." 
 
 The big fellow cast a resigned look at the 
 ground, at the men about him, at the rock 
 against which the cornered prisoner stood. 
 
 There sounded a scraping noise over Du- 
 kane's head, then a loud shout and though he 
 strove to swerve on one side a man's heavy 
 weight fell upon his shoulders and crushed him. 
 At the same time he saw Lantry and the oth- 
 ers leaping towards him and as he went down 
 he savagely pulled the trigger of the automatic. 
 Bang bang bang bang, sounded joyously 
 in his ears as he vanished, buried under the 
 swarm of his assailants. 
 
 Squirming, clawing, kicking, almost unable
 
 THE COUNTER STROKE 247 
 
 to breathe, utterly unable to see, he fought like 
 a wild-cat. Once he sank his teeth into a man's 
 arm and heard a smothered yell of pain that 
 answered the tactics; once he got his fingers 
 in a handful of hair and caused another voice to 
 cry in anguish. The very fact that he was at 
 the bottom of the pile was a temporary ad- 
 vantage; he could not be distinguished from 
 his enemies who pulled and hauled and pom- 
 meled each other in an endeavor to reach him. 
 
 Suddenly the heap burst apart, while the 
 men shouted with fresh alarm. The crushing 
 weight was lifted, and alert for this very thing 
 he sprang to his feet disheveled, dirty, torn, 
 one cheek bleeding. Then the cause of the 
 disruption was apparent. Enid Crofton com- 
 ing upon the summit had perceived the melee 
 and guessing who was its storm-center had 
 charged full speed into the mass with her pony. 
 Right and left she struck viciously with her 
 quirt, while the horse cut more than one body 
 with his sharp hoofs as he snorted and pawed 
 in fear. 
 
 The rout was complete. Dukane still 
 clutched his revolver, glaring fiercely about. 
 One man, he saw, limping painfully towards 
 the shelter of some trees, another crawled groan-
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 ing to one side, with his hip soaked black with 
 blood where a bullet had found its mark; and 
 others moved angrily about rubbing portions 
 of their bodies where whip or hoof had hit. 
 
 Lantry was beside himself with rage. 
 
 "Come back, you curs! Are you going to 
 give up now when he's shot your mates?" he 
 shouted, in an effort to collect his followers for 
 another sortie. 
 
 Dukane slipped fresh shells into his weapon. 
 
 "Try it on, we're waiting for you," Dukane 
 taunted belligerently. 
 
 But the leader's commands met with small 
 response. Two or three men joined him, but 
 more than this number he could not win, and 
 when Jimmy sent a bullet kicking up dirt at 
 their feet, even the braver portion hurried to 
 withdraw. The boy looked up at Enid sitting 
 her mount with compressed lips and shining 
 eyes, undaunted, unafraid. 
 
 "Come, now is the time to get safely away," 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 "They won't try it again. What a cour- 
 ageous girl you are! I would go through it 
 all again to have you here by my side." 
 
 A rich flood of color brightened her face, a 
 smile hovered on her lips.
 
 THE COUNTER STROKE 249 
 
 "See, it's evening," she pointed down upon 
 the plain where the shadows had thickened, 
 then directed her gauntleted hand towards a 
 horseman who was ascending the road from 
 Tunneltown. "Someone is coming. Follow 
 me, I don't want to be seen in this melodra- 
 matic position. Along the ridge a little way 
 is a path that will take us down into the basin 
 without our running into any of those men 
 again." 
 
 She touched heel to the pony and it started 
 off at walk along the crest of ridge which lay 
 westward. Soon they were out of sight and 
 hearing of the scene so lately enacted, the spot 
 blotted out by the pines and brush. 
 
 "You were not hurt?" she inquired, all at 
 once anxious. 
 
 "No, I enjoyed it." 
 
 "But there's a cut on your cheek. It's still 
 bleeding." 
 
 "That's nothing. A heel of one of the men 
 planted itself there; for awhile I thought it 
 would never be off." 
 
 "Come nearer," she ordered, drawing rein. 
 She bent over and inspected the cheek. "It's 
 swelling. What's more, I believe that left eye 
 is turning black-and-blue."
 
 250 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "What, again!" Jimmy cried, in disgust. 
 "Why, it's only a little while since I got over 
 it's being black before. I wish you'd walk in- 
 stead of riding ; I don't like long-distance con- 
 versation." 
 
 Laughing her consent she dismounted, lead- 
 ing the pony behind her. 
 
 "How did this all happen? I thought they 
 were surely killing you. For a moment I 
 worked to kill them all; it was so unfair, so 
 many against one." 
 
 "I kept them pretty busy nevertheless," 
 Jimmy answered jauntily. "One or two of 
 them are carrying lead." 
 
 "Don't speak in that dreadful fashion. 
 Will they die?" 
 
 "Oh, no. The bullets hit them low, because 
 I didn't have time to aim when I went down. 
 I just pulled the trigger on the chance that 
 some of them would be in range, but most of 
 the bullets went into the ground." 
 
 "Two are enough," said she. "The man had 
 climbed over the rock and was dropping on you 
 when I came in sight. Tell me who wrote that 
 note; I didn't." 
 
 Jimmy halted, so did she. He faced her 
 for a moment in silence deliberating whether
 
 THE COUNTER STROKE 251 
 
 or not to tell her his full suspicions. To accuse 
 any man of perpetrating such a plot was in- 
 deed to make a grave charge. 
 
 "Tell me," she cried, impatient. 
 
 "I think it was the man we agreed not to 
 discuss." 
 
 "Mr. Corbetson!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But that" She broke off and biting her 
 lip under the stress of excitement which this 
 suggested infamy awakened gazed at him with 
 round eyes. That a man who held the position 
 of importance and trust which the chief en- 
 gineer did could descend to such a depth of 
 villainy, that the man whom she had enter- 
 tained under the same roof and at the same 
 table with this boy could conceive of such 
 treachery, seemed to bring her to the brink of 
 an abyss. 
 
 "That would be horrible," she whispered. 
 
 "Mr. Corbetson and I are engaged in a little 
 private war. Still I never supposed he would 
 dare to try such a desperate move. He's after 
 me, that's certain." 
 
 "But he placed you in the store, he lets you 
 remain by his side. It is incredible." 
 
 Jimmy looked about until he found a stone,
 
 252 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 then seated himself, for the fatigue of his one- 
 sided struggle was beginning to make itself 
 known in his legs. 
 
 "Mr. Corbetson wouldn't shed a single tear 
 if I disappeared from Silver Peak Basin," he 
 stated, "or if my crushed body were found at 
 the bottom of some cliff. Unfortunately for 
 his schemes, I know too much of what he's at- 
 tempting; I hold his reputation, his future, in 
 my hand." Jimmy held out one soiled hand 
 by way of illustration. "The man is desper- 
 ate, that's all. I don't know by proof, except 
 that Lantry admitted, that he was at the bot- 
 tom of this trick, but I know in my heart that 
 he was the originator of it, with these men for 
 his tools. Lantry believing that he had cap- 
 tured me said Corbetson had employed them to 
 run me out of the country, but Lantry would 
 never have let it stop with that, for he hated me 
 too much. And, mark my words, that was ex- 
 actly why Corbetson hired him !" 
 
 Conviction slowly showed itself upon her 
 countenance. She turned and gazed off 
 through the boughs at the low buildings of the 
 camp, barely visible now in the purple mist that 
 filled the valley. An involuntary shudder
 
 THE COUNTER STROKE 253 
 
 shook her frame, for a spirit of tragedy all at 
 once had invaded her peaceful home. 
 
 She faced about swiftly. "I'm sorry that I 
 ever quarrelled with you about him," she said. 
 "I supposed him honorable and worthy. How 
 can such men exist, deceiving the world and 
 plotting trouble!" 
 
 "He won't deceive it much longer, believe 
 me," Dukane answered with emphasis. 
 
 "But he won't stop now, he will resort to 
 even more desperate measures to harm you. 
 You must go away, you must go at once. 
 These men will do everything in their power 
 to who knows? perhaps kill you." 
 
 "I stay right on the job," Jimmy spoke this 
 time with vehemence rather than emphasis. 
 
 She came nearer, "Won't you go for me?" 
 
 "One of the reasons I'm staying is because 
 I love you." He rose to his feet. "That scoun- 
 drel loves you too and I don't intend that he 
 shall insult you by telling you of his love." 
 
 Her bosom began to rise and fall with the 
 stress of emotion which mastered her ; her eyes 
 fastened themselves on his. A sudden realiza- 
 tion of what it would have meant to her had 
 anything happened to him in the struggle at
 
 254 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 the rock, what it would mean if she should lose 
 him in the future, stirred her inmost nature. 
 Ever since she had followed the impulse when 
 she kissed him in the store he had filled her 
 mind with an invisible presence. 
 
 ."Jimmy, Jimmy, it would break my heart if 
 harm came to you," she cried. 
 
 "I will not leave you now or ever," he an- 
 swered, with voice grown inexplicably husky. 
 
 Somehow their hands met; the next instant 
 she was in his arms and his lips warm on hers. 
 All the world seemed to stand still for them in 
 a glorious pause, all they knew was that their 
 hearts were united and that a deep and pro- 
 found happiness enwrapped them. 
 
 Over the earth a faint breath of air stirred, 
 shaking the needles of the pines and the leaves 
 of the aspens, passing with a whispering voice 
 that seemed the hushed utterance of the mil- 
 lions of lovers who had gone before. In the 
 west the majestic peak of the lofty moun- 
 tain gazed down upon them in vast calm and 
 content. It was as if the universe had been 
 designed for this one moment wood, water, 
 earth and stars and expressed its perfection 
 at the instant their lips met and their souls 
 united. Somewhere off on the hillside a bird
 
 THE COUNTER STROKE 255 
 
 poured forth a golden flow of melody which 
 ended in a single note of exquisite sweetness. 
 
 At last they went on hand in hand, the pony 
 stepping slow after his mistress, and presently 
 they turned aside to follow a path which wound 
 and twisted down the hillside. 
 
 "I don't know who you are, Jimmy. I have 
 suspected for a long time that Hemple isn't 
 your name," Enid said, a little wistfully, "but 
 you will tell me in your own good time. All I 
 care about is that we love each other, that I 
 trust you." 
 
 "Sweetheart, I'll tell you my; real name 
 now." 
 
 "Not if you don't wish to for the present. 
 'Jimmy' is enough to satisfy me I will even 
 love you just the same if your true name is 
 Hempledink, as you once told me." 
 
 Jimmy laughed aloud in sheer joyousness. 
 Her love could surmount even such a cogno- 
 men. 
 
 "There's no reason in the world," said he 
 "why you shouldn't know it only I will ask 
 you to tell no one until I settle a certain mat- 
 ter." 
 
 "Of course, I'll do whatever you wish." 
 And she pressed his fingers tenderly.
 
 256 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "My name is Dukane James A. Dukane, 
 Jr." 
 
 If he had expected an expression of surprise 
 to escape her lips at this announcement he was 
 destined to suffer disappointment. She con- 
 tinued to descend the path for a time in silence. 
 At last she said: 
 
 "That is much finer than Jimmy Hernple- 
 dink," she gave a low delicious ripple of laugh- 
 ter. "Oh, it would cost my pride something 
 to have had to bear such a name. But Du- 
 kane yes, that is ever so much better." 
 
 From the hillside the path led forward until 
 it joined the road some space ahead. Here 
 they paused to look back at the ridge and 
 speculate upon what had become of the men, 
 those wounded and those unhurt. But they 
 could see nothing; darkness was settling rap- 
 idly, overhead stars sprinkled the sky and only 
 in the west the light still remained. 
 
 "Take care of yourself, Jimmy, take care of 
 yourself, for now you're mine," she said, hold- 
 ing fast to him when they prepared to sepa- 
 rate before the ranch house. "For you are mine 
 now, Jimmy A. Dukane, junior. It seems as 
 if I almost knew that name, as if I had heard
 
 THE COUNTER STROKE 257 
 
 it before. But take care of yourself and come 
 back to me." 
 
 Next instant her arms were about his neck, 
 her parting kiss on his lips. Then she was 
 gone.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR 
 
 doctor, the two assistant engineers and 
 A the newspaper correspondent sat about 
 nine o'clock in the physician's office playing 
 bridge. In the three former the reporter had 
 found congenial company and had in turn 
 proved himself since his arrival an acceptable 
 fourth at the game. 
 
 "Make it hearts," Leschelles announced. 
 
 "Double," Satterfield stated, slowly scan- 
 ning his hand. 
 
 "I'm stung again, I'll bet, unless the dummy 
 is good and fat," the freckle-faced junior said. 
 "Here goes." And he led out. 
 
 When the hand was half-finished, an inter- 
 ruption came in the form of a knock on the 
 door. 
 
 "Damn it, who's got tHe stomach-ache now?" 
 the little round doctor exclaimed, as he rose. 
 
 No one, it appeared, was subjected to the 
 ailment which he had anathematized. Dukane 
 
 M
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR 259 
 
 entered, followed by Kendle whom he intro- 
 duced around. 
 
 "Go ahead with the game, and don't look 
 sour, Medico," he said, pleasantly. "When 
 you've finished this rubber, I'll take a few min- 
 utes of your time." 
 
 "You better get back to selling overalls or 
 you'll lose your job." 
 
 "Tut, tut, I'm taking the rest cure." 
 
 The doctor resumed his seat and the game 
 went forward with an occasional exchange 
 among the players of satirical comments upon 
 each other's skill. At the conclusion of the 
 rubber Dukane gently but firmly removed the 
 deck of cards from Satterfield's fingers, prefac- 
 ing his act with a laconic apology. 
 
 "You come in here and kick over the kettle 
 under a man's own roof," the doctor remarked. 
 "If that isn't nerve ! Next thing you'll be try- 
 ing to operate on my patients." 
 
 "That might be worth while, I'll consider it 
 later, but look here," Dukane pulled his chair 
 forward. "I'm here strictly on business and 
 business that will probably concern you all. 
 I'm about to send out this message," and draw- 
 ing forth a folded telegraph blank on which 
 was written a line he handed it to the doctor,
 
 then leaning back in his seat, he lighted a cigar 
 and awaited results. 
 
 Doctor Morrison read it, stood suddenly up 
 in his place staring at the yellow sheet. 
 
 "Boy, you're mad insane!" he sputtered. 
 "For heaven's sake look at that, Satterfield!" 
 He thrust the paper into the man's hand. 
 
 A great deal was necessary to disturb the 
 studious first assistant engineer. Adjusting 
 his nose-glasses he carefully perused the writ- 
 ing, read it and then reread it; without com- 
 ment he passed the paper to Leschelles after 
 which he devoted himself to filling his pipe. 
 During this by-play the correspondent sat 
 quiet, though watching with alert eyes all that 
 passed; for whatever concerned the youth. 
 Hemple, was of interest to him and he drank 
 in all of the scene that politeness to his host 
 made permissible. 
 
 "Well, that's a funny skit to put on," the 
 sandy-haired Leschelles said, uncertain as to 
 where the joke lay. "Better go easy on that." 
 
 Dukane puffed his cigar, blew forth the 
 smoke and calmly stated: 
 
 "That will be burning the wires before morn- 
 ing. I imagine that our friend, the journalist, 
 would like to hear it."
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR 261 
 
 "But " Leschelles started to protest. 
 
 "You young devil, you dare not send such a 
 fake as that!" the doctor cried. 
 
 "Read it to the man by your side, Leschelles, 
 and see what he thinks about it as a fake." 
 
 Very soberly and in a hesitating voice the 
 second assistant engineer read: 
 
 " Dukane and Company, 
 
 San Francisco: 
 
 Have discharged Corbetson and taken control. Will 
 have Corbetson arrested at earliest opportunity for em- 
 bezzlement and held till sheriff's arrival. 
 
 JAMES A. DUKANE, JR." 
 
 The journalist banged the table with his fist, 
 looking about triumphantly, while his dazed 
 companions turned their eyes on him. 
 
 "I knew it, I knew it !" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Knew what?" the doctor questioned. 
 
 "Why, that he's young Dukane, old man 
 Dukane's son who has been missing all this 
 while and has kept the police and papers run- 
 ning around in circles to find him." 
 
 "Him Hemple? I don't believe it," the 
 doctor stated with emphatic incredulity. "He 
 came in here a bum." 
 
 Then he sat suddenly down wiping his brow, 
 for the sudden excitement aroused by this un-
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 heard of affair, the range of possibilities opened 
 up by the youth's expressed intention regard- 
 ing Corbetson, had started a fine dew of per- 
 spiration upon his brow. For a time no one 
 said anything. The only sound was that of 
 Dukane softly riffling the edges of the cards 
 through his fingers ; the lamp-light fell upon a 
 glass case of instruments on one side which 
 reflected the gleams lustrously; while the men 
 remained in the various postures in which their 
 bodies had set upon the reception of the news. 
 All were thinking, all inwardly speculating 
 upon how this strange event, if it should come 
 to pass, would affect their various fortunes. 
 
 "As the case stands, Hemple claims to be the 
 son of James A. Dukane, president of the 
 Dukane Company," Satterfield said finally, in 
 a measured voice. "It seems to me, with all 
 due regard for Hemple or Dukane junior, 
 whichever he is that the sending of this tele- 
 gram, if he does send it, does not concern us; 
 on the contrary, it is a matter resting solely 
 among the chief, the company and the sender." 
 
 Dukane straightened up. "It concerns you 
 all in this respect. I intend to take possession 
 of the camp to-morrow. What then? Will 
 you, can you maintain a neutral position ? Cor-
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR 263 
 
 betson will undoubtedly explode and that is the 
 moment I'll need support." 
 
 Leschelles, who now perceived the youth in- 
 vested with another personality even by the 
 mere claim that he was the son of that vague 
 but powerful individual, the head of the con- 
 struction company, wrinkled his brow in con- 
 centrated thought. For him the situation 
 abounded with romantic features, dramatic cir- 
 cumstances ; to have an apparent hobo, who had 
 entered camp ragged, mud-covered, disfigured 
 by a black eye, blossom forth after a few weeks' 
 sojourn into a dominant master, captivated his 
 imagination. He had liked Hemple ; now the 
 young fellow's prospective coup set his nerves 
 tingling with excitement. But an engineer's 
 training teaches one to calculate all the angles. 
 
 "You say you're Mr. Dukane's son ; how do 
 we know that ?" he asked respectfully. 
 
 "Well, that's a pretty hard matter for me to 
 prove at present. Your journalist friend has 
 my description, I imagine, and " 
 
 "Know it by heart," that worthy interrupted, 
 "but here's the official one which has gone the 
 rounds of the country"; he produced a sheet, 
 worn and creased, from his pocket and read 
 the details.
 
 264 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Your eye, young chap, has been mauled 
 again recently " 
 
 "This evening." 
 
 "But otherwise it fits. All I want is to see 
 your left arm and the birthmark which is here 
 described." 
 
 Dukane rose, removed his coat and rolled up 
 the shirt-sleeve of his left arm. Just below the 
 elbow a brown oval mole half an inch in length 
 lay like a lozenge upon the white flesh; it tal- 
 lied exactly with the designated birthmark. 
 
 "You audacious young scamp, you'll have 
 me really believing you're the missing boy 
 but of all things under heaven !" And the doc- 
 tor, who spoke, turned first to one guest and 
 then another to interrogate their countenances. 
 
 Dukane waved his hand for Kendle to speak. 
 That gentleman who was placidly smoking a 
 cigar nodded. 
 
 "I think he's the man he claims to be," he 
 stated. "I don't know absolutely, as he's kept 
 me from investigating his claim, but in my own 
 mind I am perfectly convinced that he's young 
 Dukane. Possibly my belief is entitled to 
 some weight; I am the assistant-manager of 
 the Corson Cement Company, which is one 
 company supplying cement for the construe-
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR 265 
 
 tion of this dam and which consequently is an 
 interested party. It was on his request that I 
 came here. You had best tell your whole story, 
 Dukane. So far as I am concerned, gentle- 
 men, I'm free to say that I've swallowed it 
 whole and am ready to lend him every reason- 
 able assistance and now that I've my foot in, 
 possibly some aid that is unreasonable." 
 
 The others echoed his suggestion. 
 
 "Is this confidential, or am I at liberty to use 
 the account?" the correspondent demanded, 
 whose fingers itched to have hold of a pencil. 
 "Here I am with the beat of the month and 
 I want it!" 
 
 "To be sure. Go ahead, if for nothing else 
 than compensation for your pertinacity," 
 Jimmy said. "There's a fine chance for you 
 now to work up the burglar incident." 
 
 "That we'll leave out." 
 
 Thereupon Dukane proceeded to narrate the 
 story of his adventures from the time he left 
 New York for San Francisco; his exchange of 
 telegrams with his father, his arrival at Melton 
 and his fight upon being robbed, his observation 
 of the station agent mysteriously at work in 
 the freight-car which held the bags of cement, 
 his labor in the camp, his clerkship in the store
 
 266 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 and finally the occasion and cause of Pennick's 
 departure. 
 
 "Here is his confession," he concluded; and 
 tossed the paper upon the table. 
 
 The doctor rose and moved on tip-toe to the 
 door, which he locked, explaining over his shoul- 
 der that this affair had now gone too far to be 
 interrupted. In order that the paper might be 
 read to best advantage he placed the lamp in 
 the middle of the table and adjusted its wick; 
 the men drew their chairs closer, eagerness now 
 apparent on the faces of all. Satterfield by 
 virtue of his superior rank read the document 
 which contained the evidence convicting Cor- 
 betson and Pennick of defrauding the work- 
 men on the one hand and the Dukane company 
 on the other in the conduct of the store. Ex- 
 cept for the engineer's steady voice, the only 
 sound was the swift whisper of the journalist's 
 pencil as he transcribed the confession in short- 
 hand. 
 
 "That is the first indictment, gentlemen," 
 Dukane stated in business-like tones at the con- 
 clusion of the reading. 
 
 "Well, I'm damned Corbetson of all 
 men !" the doctor gasped. 
 
 Kendle's eyes twinkled.
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR 267 
 
 "My young friend agreed to let Pennick go 
 free," he remarked, "but when I drove him to 
 Melton I decided that a good witness in the 
 hand is worth two in the sagebrush, so I placed 
 him where I can find him again if necessary." 
 
 "But I promised the fellow liberty," Jimmy 
 frowned. 
 
 "Don't let that worry you. Pennick went 
 where I wished of his own free will for a 
 money consideration." 
 
 "And is there more?" Leschelles inquired. 
 
 "Yes, that which is most important, that 
 which kept me in Silver Peak Basin, in fact," 
 Dukane continued. "First, I suspected some- 
 thing curious because of the station agent's ac- 
 tion in changing the cement bags, then next be- 
 cause of the talk of graft which was rife among 
 the workmen and finally because of the fraudu- 
 lent construction of the dam fraudulent as 
 every man who stops to think must know it to 
 be ; literally a hollow sham. I knew the Corson 
 Cement Company would be interested in know- 
 ing why their cement was put into another com- 
 pany's bags, therefore I wrote them to send a 
 man. Mr. Kendle came. To him I explained 
 what I had discovered and what further I sus- 
 pected. His company does not like to have its
 
 268 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 cement tampered with, so he joined my in- 
 vestigation, indeed, the chief investigation 
 has been his. He will tell you what he dis- 
 covered." 
 
 Kendle here took up the story. On leaving 
 Melton, with Pennick in his charge, he had 
 gone to a small city, a hundred miles west, and 
 from there had wired to Dukane and Company 
 for the office address of the Roseland Cement 
 Company and to his own concern for the con- 
 tract figures of the amount of cement to be sup- 
 plied. With this information in his possession 
 he had that evening gone to Denver, which had 
 been forwarded to him as the city in which the 
 Roseland Company had its headquarters. 
 High in one of the lofty buildings he had lo- 
 cated the offices, where a dapper youth talked 
 cement to him glibly. If he were in the market 
 the young manager stated, his company would 
 like to bid on his contract; they manufactured 
 an especially high grade of cement. Where 
 were their mills ? There were three, the largest 
 plant being at Melton, Nevada. He placed a 
 photograph of a magnificent plant in Kendle's 
 hands and Kendle, who knew cement companies 
 as he knew his fingers, recognized it as a photo- 
 graph of a celebrated Texas company's mill.
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR .269 
 
 The youth also presented him with samples of 
 Melton cement. 
 
 "Here are the real Melton works," Kendle 
 concluded, handing forth a kodak view of the 
 ramshackle building which at Dukane's sugges- 
 tion he had examined and of course found 
 abandoned. 
 
 "Do you mean to say that Corbetson is in 
 this swindle?" Satterfield asked quietly. 
 
 "Here are the facts as my own company 
 knows them. This dam is supposedly being 
 built of solid, reinforced concrete. A certain 
 amount of cement is required; the contract to 
 supply this was divided between the Roseland 
 concern and our own, both to provide cement 
 of a certain test. And yet as you know the 
 dam is not being so built, is using in fact but 
 one-half of the cement which was bid for. Our 
 company is furnishing its full contract figure; 
 likewise the Roseland Company is doing so, for 
 in the information furnished me by my people, 
 Dukane & Company's San Francisco office has 
 regularly receipted for, through Corbetson, 
 definite shipments of Roseland cement and 
 paid for the same. That, gentlemen, puts the 
 matter up to your chief. I'll be glad when the 
 proper time comes for him to explain many
 
 270 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 things; why the Roseland company, with a 
 fraudulent rating in Bradstreet's and with a 
 closed mill, yet makes cement and does busi- 
 ness, why the agent at Melton puts our cement 
 in Roseland bags, why twice as much cement as 
 comes into camp is receipted for, where and by 
 whose hand false freight way-bills are made 
 and why the dam is being constructed in one 
 fashion when it is supposed to be built in an- 
 other." 
 
 "That's a black case," the doctor exclaimed, 
 his round fat face the background of many 
 emotions. "Is that all?" 
 
 "No, that's not all," Dukane said, mean- 
 ingly. 
 
 And as the final piece in the puzzle he related 
 his suspicion and discovery of the real maps in 
 the chest in the office. Satterfield for the first 
 time showed himself profoundly affected; that 
 Corbetson had made him an unconscious assist- 
 ant in a gigantic fraud cut him to the very 
 soul. He removed his eye-glasses and wiped 
 and re-wiped them. Leschelles was utterly 
 swallowed up and could only look blankly from 
 one speaker to another. Such perfidy as had 
 been here disclosed he had never dreamt of; it 
 all seemed above his head, with himself a mere
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR 271 
 
 uncounted atom kicked about at the bottom of 
 it. 
 
 "My bruised eye has been spoken of," Du- 
 kane went on. "Well, I came by it as a result 
 of this business. The chief knows that I know 
 he is guilty ; he is too cowardly to strike at me 
 himself, but to-day I found a decoy note 
 purporting to be from Miss Crofton, in which 
 it was stated that she would be riding on the 
 ridge this evening. I scribbled a line in reply 
 at supper time and sent it to her saying that I 
 would come. When I arrived on the ridge 
 Lantry and eight men burst out of cover. I 
 held them off with a gun for a while, but they 
 caught me unaware. Just as the row was at 
 its height, Miss Crofton rode up and scattered 
 them with her whip and pony. In other words 
 she probably saved my life ; for Lantry and his 
 gang would have found an excuse to kill me. 
 They did not deny that Corbetson was paying 
 them to do the job. Well, that's how I got my 
 black eye but two of them carried away bul- 
 lets and they're no doubt in the Tunneltown 
 camp now having them dug out. There, you 
 have the whole story, men, up to date." 
 
 "Oh, this is worth waiting for!" the reporter 
 barked joyously, writing with industrious pen-
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 cil. "Wait till I work this stuff up, just 
 wait!" 
 
 "It's too much for me," the doctor vocif- 
 erated, throwing up his hands. "All this go- 
 ing on under our noses, while we were pottering 
 around and trying to rake up excitement play- 
 ing bridge!" 
 
 The others said nothing; this last revelation 
 was too grave for unconsidered discussion. In 
 the eyes of all of them the figure of the youth 
 acquired a new significance ; and yet the whole 
 tale, the entire succession of events from Du- 
 kane's arrival at Melton to the present moment 
 when he sat before them with the incontrover- 
 tible evidence of a late physical struggle upon 
 his face, the secret and criminal policy pursued 
 by the chief engineer, seemed a wild and pre- 
 posterous phantasy of some imaginative brain, 
 which would presently be dispelled by a sane 
 word. Satterfield sat with his chin in his hand, 
 brooding; Leschelles scratched one side of his 
 head continually, as if he was determined to 
 scratch forth an idea from his cropped sandy 
 hair ; the doctor from time to time fussily blew 
 his nose. 
 
 "Well, that's the case I present against Cor- 
 betson," Dukane stated, after a lengthy pause.
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR 273 
 
 "The man's a villain and a scoundrel. To- 
 morrow I take charge and will keep charge un- 
 til the San Francisco office sends a representa- 
 tive. When I dispatch this telegram I shall 
 send another to the sheriff of this county at the 
 same time, asking him to come and arrest the 
 chief. He should be here by night. But 
 meanwhile what can I count on from you gen- 
 tlemen?" He looked about him. 
 
 "What can we do?" Leschelles inquired, 
 helplessly. 
 
 "This, refuse to obey Corbetson." 
 
 "But but he's the chief!" 
 
 "At nine o'clock I will be in the office chair. 
 Will you, or will you not, take orders from 
 me?" 
 
 Dukane gazed at the other young fellow, who 
 turned his look away to Satterfield as if seeking 
 an older head to decide at this parting of the 
 ways. The older engineer lifted his eyes and 
 as if for the first time seeing Dukane, carefully 
 regarded him. 
 
 "It's a great deal you ask," he said, at length, 
 "to demand of us to become insubordinate to 
 our authorized superior, the man in command 
 here. You have no credentials, you give us 
 your sole unsupported word that you are Mr.
 
 274. THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Dukane's son. Granted that you are, how are 
 we to know that your action will be endorsed 
 by the company? By your own story and 
 pardon me the liberty by your past record, 
 neither your father nor your father's company 
 placed any particular confidence in you and 
 never at any time gave you authority. You 
 were ordered to come here to inspect the work 
 and report upon it, that and nothing more. Is 
 such not the case?" 
 
 "It is, but" 
 
 Satterfield waved him to silence. "You want 
 us to throw our lot in with you when you don't 
 even know but that the company will discoun- 
 tenance what you do. That is the way it stands 
 with us. What further reason have you to ad- 
 vance why we should join you?" 
 
 A warm flush mounted Dukane's face, a 
 flush of resentment, disappointment, defeat. 
 
 "I have none," he said. 
 
 Again Satterfield removed his glasses and 
 wiped them, carefully to place them upon his 
 nose. Suddenly he struck the table with 
 clenched fist. His lips were compressed, his 
 lean form taut. 
 
 "I will tell you the reason," he explained. 
 "Because a man should be true to the salt he
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR 275 
 
 eats, loyal to the money he's paid by, honest 
 to the work he sets his hand to. If I thought 
 the company was building this dam fraudu- 
 lently and I've lain awake nights, gentlemen, 
 turning the thought over in my mind I would 
 consider it my duty to resign and expose the 
 vile work. Fraudulent it is, of that I am now 
 convinced. I am sick of seeing the flimsy, 
 veiled construction that is going on here ; I had 
 already made up my mind to quit. But I am 
 now certain that the company has gone ahead 
 in good faith. I feel myself bound to no man, 
 even if he is my superior, by any cords of loy- 
 alty when he pursues a disloyal and dishonest 
 course. At such a time my loyalty goes to the 
 fountain-head ; I shall do as I think right with- 
 out regard either to reward or punishment. 
 And when I give my allegiance to what I con- 
 sider right, it is no half-allegiance. Therefore, 
 I shall go the whole length you can command 
 me, Mr. Dukane." 
 
 "Hurray !" shouted Leschelles, "I'm in too, 
 if I never have another job." 
 
 Dukane was genuinely affected by this mani- 
 festation of good-will, coming as it did so 
 speedily upon the heels of what he had consid- 
 ered a refusal, and profoundly affected by the
 
 276 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 engineer's clean straight loyalty to his father's 
 company. Unable to speak for the moment he 
 gripped their hands and shook them vigorously. 
 
 "We shall stand or fall with you, Jimmy, 
 my boy," the doctor cried, whose face beamed. 
 
 "But we won't fall; that's where your help 
 comes in," Jimmy answered. 
 
 "If I may offer a suggestion " the journal- 
 ist interjected calmly. 
 
 "Shoot away, old man." 
 
 "Keep your little conspiracy dark until some- 
 one is sent from the San Francisco office, after 
 which this man Corbetson can be moved out in 
 good order." 
 
 For a moment Jimmy stared at him in aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 "What and spoil my show! No sir," he 
 pounded the table till the lamp rattled and the 
 doctor jumped to hold it "not on your life! 
 The governor and the San Francisco office and 
 all the rest of them think I'm no good, that I'm 
 lost, that I can't eat without somebody putting 
 the spoon to my mouth I'll show 'em! This 
 is my funeral and I intend to run it till the last 
 clod rattles on the coffin. When the smoke 
 clears, they'll see me sitting all serene on top
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR 277 
 
 the heap with my nose in the air inquiring who 
 they are and what they want. More than that, 
 I intend to sit there till the dam is built and 
 built right. After I've done the rough work, 
 nobody else shall come in to put on the gilt. 
 Yes, sir, this is my funeral. James A. Du- 
 kane, Sr., can come in as one of the mourners, 
 but that's all, as he'll find out when I get busy 
 with him." 
 
 "Good good," cried Leschelles, wriggling 
 with delight. "But won't the chief fight ?" 
 
 "Possibly probably. It'll be necessary to 
 make provision for that. He's in so deep now 
 that he'll be apt to make a final stroke to get 
 possession long enough to destroy the papers 
 and whatever other evidence there is against 
 him. But I'll never let him into the office, 
 once he's turned out. What we've got to look 
 out for is Lantry and his gang of ruffians. 
 Corbetson will run to them first thing. Come, 
 pull up to the table and let us lay a plan." 
 
 Following his example the others drew up 
 their chairs for a council of war. Now that 
 they had enlisted on Dukane's side they flung 
 themselves into the conspiracy heart and soul. 
 Fresh cigars were lighted and pipes filled anew,
 
 578 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 whereupon they fell into a discussion of the "if s 
 and ands" of the proposed upheaval in the gov- 
 ernment of Silver Peak Camp. 
 
 "To-morrow will be a bloody day in our 
 country's history," the correspondent remarked 
 jocosely, from the spot where he had retired to 
 write out in detail his account of the resurrec- 
 tion of Dukane junior. 
 
 He would get no sleep that night, he per- 
 ceived, as he had been instructed by Dukane 
 that no messages should be permitted to go on 
 the wires at Melton, since these would alarm 
 the station-agent, who in turn would inform 
 Corbetson of events by telephone. The next 
 station west of Melton was ten miles distant 
 and the prospect of a journey there by night 
 not alluring, but his "great story" discounted 
 the obstacles of this. As soon as it was written 
 he would set out for the place on horseback in 
 order to be back by morning, when he antici- 
 pated further meaty copy. 
 
 The members of the conclave paid no atten- 
 tion to his joking comment. What Corbetson, 
 enraged by his forced deposal, made desperate 
 by discovery of his criminal course, would do 
 engaged their deepest consideration. They 
 could not agree.
 
 A COUNCIL OF WAR 279 
 
 "He'll skip, if I know the man," the doctor 
 stated. 
 
 "Corbetson's more cautious than brave, more 
 cunning than bold, but one can never foretell 
 what any man will do in an extremity," Satter- 
 field replied, "for one can never know all of the 
 conflicting currents that clash in the mind, or 
 choose those which will finally determine him 
 upon a policy." 
 
 Dukane looked about the circle. 
 
 "It really doesn't matter what the man does, 
 if we're prepared for the worst," said he. "Let 
 us figure out what the worst can be, then make 
 ready to meet it." 
 
 "Good advice," Satterfield approved. And 
 with a smile, he continued. "Our new general 
 is already disclosing elements of greatness." 
 
 Thereupon they put their heads together to 
 prepare the morrow's campaign. 
 
 As for the man against whom they conspired, 
 he lay tossing on his bed and gnawing his nails ; 
 for Lantry had told him of the failure of the 
 evening's attack upon the boy, told him with 
 curses of the coming of the girl and of the 
 wounding of two of the men by bullets. The 
 black devils that darkness conjures up in the 
 minds of the guilty rode astride his soul.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A NEW CHIEF IN COMMAND 
 
 more Dukane and his faithful servi- 
 tor, Hop Spencer, conversed. The hour 
 was near nine o'clock of the following morning 
 and as Jimmy, leaning in apparent indolence 
 upon a corner of a showcase, indulged in gentle 
 banter with his admiring minion, he neverthe- 
 less kept a wary eye upon the office within the 
 adjoining half of the building. 
 
 "I'm about to make you storekeeper in your 
 own right," he addressed the cripple, "raise you 
 up to a position of trust, a place of honor and 
 a seat of power. In other words, you shall 
 tread in the footsteps of your famous predeces- 
 sors, Pennick and Hemple." 
 
 "Me ! Say, you do like to talk hot air, don't 
 you?" Spencer stated, without, however, any 
 note of derogation. 
 
 "You do me an injustice, Hop. I speak 
 only the truth. From now on until the dam is 
 finished you are the storekeeper and commis- 
 
 280
 
 A NEW CHIEF IN COMMAND 281 
 
 sary with a stipend of one hundred dollars per 
 month." 
 
 "All right, I'll make a lovely merchant," the 
 other grinned, to carry on the joke. 
 
 Jimmy crossed to where a looking glass 
 hung from a shelf and examined his bruised 
 eye ; it was swollen half shut from the force of 
 the boot-heel which had struck it and was deep 
 indigo in color. Fresh disgust possessed him as 
 he tenderly fingered the optic, for by previous 
 experience he knew that it would retain this 
 mourning color for two or three weeks. In 
 truth, it caused him to look both disreputable 
 and desperate. Would Enid continue to love 
 him looking thus? 
 
 "Tell me, Hop, what will reduce this swell- 
 ing?" he inquired. 
 
 "Fat meat a piece of bacon." 
 
 "That doesn't sound very nice." 
 
 "It does the business, that's the main thing. 
 Wait a minute, I'll fix you up." 
 
 So presently with a slice of bacon in one hand 
 and a red bandana handkerchief in the other, 
 Spencer proceeded to apply his remedy and 
 bandage it fast. 
 
 "Now, my boy, the store will rest on your 
 shoulders to-day," Dukane stated, briskly. "I
 
 282 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 expect to be very busy with other matters. 
 There will possibly be some excitement around 
 this building and in case it becomes too strong 
 lock the doors and keep out of sight. Mean- 
 while, let us see what there is in the way of arms 
 and ammunition." 
 
 With the wondering Hop at his heels he 
 made an inventory of the aforesaid class of 
 stock, with the result that when he concluded 
 there were gathered four Winchester rifles, six 
 shot-guns, fourteen revolvers and a consider- 
 able quantity of shells for the weapons. These 
 the two youths hid in a handy place under the 
 counter near the door leading into the office, 
 heaping wearing apparel on top to conceal 
 them from sight. 
 
 Fortune smiled upon Dukane. Perceiving 
 that Corbetson had descended the slope to the 
 power house and that the auspicious moment 
 for an aggressive move had come he strode 
 across the office, felt in his pocket to learn that 
 his revolver was safe, and planted himself in the 
 revolving chair at the chief's desk. Thus, eas- 
 ily like many another greater assault against 
 tyrannical power, the first step in the Silver 
 Peak revolution was initiated. Jimmy hooked
 
 A NEW CHIEF IN COMMAND 283 
 
 his thumbs in the arm holes of his vest, leaned 
 back and took a deep breath. 
 
 "Now for wild cries and gnashing of teeth," 
 said he ; but as the chief engineer did not at once 
 return and his roving eye lighted on the pigeon 
 holes of the desk stuffed with papers, he expe- 
 rienced an acute attack of curiosity. Every 
 folded sheet, every corner of an envelope, every 
 dog-eared end that pointed towards him seemed 
 mysterious with hidden secrets and heavy with 
 portentous facts ; they invited him, as a locked 
 cupboard invites a child. Should he or should 
 he not read them? Ethics did not at the mo- 
 ment particularly appeal to Dukane; and in- 
 deed, considering that Corbetson had conspired 
 to bring about if not his death at least his hurt, 
 it is to be wondered that there rose in his mind 
 any scruples whatever. But they swiftly with- 
 ered under the heat of his indignation when he 
 recalled yesterday's events. He lighted a 
 cigar, pulled out the contents of a pigeon-hole 
 and fell to an examination. 
 
 It was half an hour after this, when he had 
 advanced through the reading of half the desk's 
 papers with the result of discovering only a few; 
 letters which seemed to cast an illusive light on
 
 284 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 the chief's schemes, that Corbetson walked into 
 the office. Thunderstruck, he halted in his 
 tracks. Jimmy took a tighter grip on his cigar 
 with his teeth and gazed around at the man. 
 
 "Come in," he said, "and have a chair." 
 
 "Reading my papers !" the man cried harshly, 
 springing forward. 
 
 Dukane slipped his revolver forth. 
 
 "Sit down," he commanded. 
 
 "You thief, you scoundrel " 
 
 "Sit down as I tell you," was the repeated 
 command, this time enforced by the weapon. 
 "And don't address those names to me, Mr. 
 Corbetson, if you wish to keep a whole skin. 
 Go ahead, what do you want to say?" 
 
 By now the engineer was seated, a picture of 
 rage and baffled ferocity. 
 
 "What are you doing here! I'll have you in 
 jail for this, see if I don't." 
 
 Jimmy removed his cigar. Watching 
 closely to see that the other made no sudden 
 spring upon him, Dukane reflected on how best 
 to put his answer. 
 
 "I have taken charge here; you're out of a 
 job, Mr. Corbetson." 
 
 "You have what!" the other half rose to his 
 feet.
 
 A NEW CHIEF IN COMMAND 285 
 
 "I think you caught my meaning. Here- 
 after the construction of the dam is in my 
 hands. In order to make the matter wholly 
 clear to you, I'll state that my name is Dukane, 
 Jimmy Dukane, son of the president of the 
 company of the same name." 
 
 "You lie, you thief! You're nothing but a 
 hobo and a bluffer, you came here in rags and 
 mud and you'll leave the same way. I don't 
 know what your game is, but inside of thirty 
 minutes I'll have you locked up hard and fast." 
 
 "Tut tut, sit where you are. Do you think 
 you can persuade Lantry to try another mur- 
 der? You may not know it, Mr. Corbetson, 
 but Lantry told me last evening when he 
 thought he had me caught, that you were the 
 man who paid him to cut my throat." 
 
 At this sudden accusation the blood receded 
 from the engineer's face ; he glanced away from 
 the youth, then back at him again. 
 
 "Nothing of the kind," he declared, finally. 
 "What attack are you talking about?" 
 
 "Then there was the decoy note, too. That 
 was rather crafty of you, for a fact, but Enid 
 Crofton chanced to come riding to the ridge 
 and spoiled your whole plan. Mr. Corbetson, 
 I intend to see you sent up the road for several
 
 286 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 things, of which this is one of them. You, to 
 stoop to having murder done !" 
 
 A fresh access of anger swept Corbetson. 
 "Get out of here, or I'll throw you out !" 
 
 "Try it," Jimmy answered grimly, "I didn't 
 hesitate to shoot a couple of your hired assas- 
 sins last night, I won't hesitate to shoot you. 
 Get out yourself and keep out! You're 
 done. Not a paper leaves this desk or this of- 
 fice." 
 
 Before the sudden menace of the weapon 
 thrust forward anew, the engineer shrank 
 away, leaping to his feet and retreating a step. 
 Dukane also arose. But Corbetson did not de- 
 part; the utter preposterousness of the event, 
 of Hemple who had been a common laborer 
 seeking to drive him forth from what was 
 rightly his own, deprived him of the power of 
 locomotion. 
 
 "See here, Hemple, are you mad?" he asked, 
 at last. 
 
 "I'm sane enough to shoot straight, if that's 
 what you want to know." 
 
 "But this is my office, I'm engineer here, am 
 in charge. You're joking to talk about driv- 
 ing me out of my own place. Go back to your 
 work in the store where you belong and be ra-
 
 A NEW CHIEF IN COMMAND 287 
 
 tional. If the camp learns that you're acting 
 in this crazy fashion, that you're not respon- 
 sible, it will shoot you down like a mad dog. 
 Come, stop this nonsense." 
 
 "Am I crazy when I say you're defrauding 
 the company in the store?' 
 
 The chief's look became lowering. "Enough 
 of that." 
 
 "And mad also when I say you're swindling 
 the company in its dam construction?" 
 
 "Tell that to the camp and they'll certainly 
 know you're crazy!" 
 
 "But you know differently, my friend, don't 
 you?" Dukane went on, "Just as you and I 
 know these maps that you give Satterfield and 
 Leschelles are false, while the true ones are 
 locked up in the chest yonder. Yes, you and 
 I know just how crazy I am, as we know just 
 how guilty you are." 
 
 "What do you want ?" 
 
 "Aha, you now see a light and are ready to 
 talk terms. What do you offer?" 
 
 "It's money you're after then blackmail." 
 
 "That's not a nice word, but let's hear what 
 you've got to say. After what you had Lantry 
 try last night I won't be bought cheap. And 
 besides you have been making a pretty good
 
 288 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 thing out of the store and various other side- 
 lines." 
 
 "I want a day to think this over." 
 
 "No, no. Many things might happen to me 
 in a day. I have no reason to trust you; in 
 fact, you'd eat my heart this very minute if I 
 gave you an opportunity. There never can be 
 much confidence between crooks, so I must 
 have your answer at once." 
 
 Lightning flashed from Corbetson's eyes at 
 these insults. Truly, had he possessed but the 
 physical courage to defy the youth's weapon, 
 he would have rejoiced to leap upon the usurper 
 and tear his flesh in pieces. Every word the 
 other spoke cut like a knife, laying open his 
 villainy, showing the blackness of his soul, pen- 
 etrating to a core of infamy which until now 
 he never had permitted himself wholly to see. 
 Ay, he could have torn to shreds the bodies of 
 both the boy and himself in a bitter sort of 
 pleasure. Suddenly, there was a clutch at his 
 heart, a black veil of dizziness in his brain. He 
 felt Dukane catch him by the arm and lead 
 him across the room, then the cool outer air 
 blew upon his face and gradually the black 
 emptiness passed away. 
 
 Dukane stood in the door looking out at him.
 
 A NEW CHIEF IN COMMAND 289 
 
 "That whiskey's bad for your heart," he said. 
 
 With return of his senses there came a rush 
 of new rage to Corbetson. He turned about, 
 he shook his fist at the youth. 
 
 "I'm not done with you," he exclaimed, be- 
 tween his teeth. "Next time you won't have 
 any come back. You better skip while you've 
 a chance, for I'm going to turn the whole camp 
 loose on you." 
 
 "Going to try and bite after all, are you?" 
 Dukane replied. "Well, I'm not going to skip 
 and, further, I'm not done with you by a long 
 way. Don't seek to come into this office again 
 it won't be a healthy attempt." 
 
 Without response Corbetson turned and 
 went swiftly towards the dam. 
 
 Jimmy did not immediately leave the spot 
 where he stood. For glancing about after hav- 
 ing delivered his ultimatum and experiencing 
 that relief which comes upon the fixing of a def- 
 inite issue, he perceived Enid Crofton riding 
 towards him from the west. At that moment 
 therefore nothing in Silver Peak Basin, which is 
 as much as to say in the world, could have 
 dragged him away from that point of vantage. 
 She came forward at an easy gallop, riding 
 with the unconscious grace with which her lithe
 
 290 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 figure was endowed. When she observed him 
 in the door she neck-reined her pony to the spot 
 and pulled up with an abrupt stop. 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded. 
 
 To see her was in Jimmy's mind the desire to 
 be near her. He stepped forth, advancing to 
 caress the pony's nose which the animal thrust 
 out towards his hand. 
 
 "Tell you what?" he inquired. 
 
 "Who you are?" 
 
 "I thought that I did." 
 
 "You didn't tell me all." 
 
 Jimmy smiled up at her with his lips and 
 one unbandaged eye. "Won't you alight? 
 It's not very comfortable talking to one from a 
 saddle." 
 
 This statement seemed worthy of profound 
 meditation; at least Enid appeared to turn it 
 over in her mind, at considerable length, finally 
 to yield, dismounting and letting the pony's 
 reins trail. Her manner, however, was accusa- 
 tory. 
 
 "No, you didn't tell me that you were the 
 son of this Mr. Dukane whose company is 
 building the dam," she announced. "It was 
 only after I was alone at home and was think- 
 ing about your name that it flashed into my
 
 A NEW CHIEF IN COMMAND 291 
 
 mind that you might be. I went to papa and 
 asked him Mr. Dukane's first name and middle 
 initial they were the same as yours. So I 
 knew you were his son are you?" 
 
 "I am." 
 
 Enid had drawn off her gloves ; she now be- 
 gan to slip them on once more. 
 
 "That ends it then; I can never marry you." 
 
 Jimmy stared at her, unable to credit his 
 ears. 
 
 "What!" he shouted, finally. "Not marry 
 me!" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "I didn't know you were the son of a man 
 who is immensely wealthy." 
 
 "What difference does that make?" 
 
 "A great deal." 
 
 "Nonsense, you're going to marry me just 
 the same, yes, even if I have to disown the 
 governor. But stop!" A bright smile sud- 
 denly illuminated his countenance. "That 
 isn't necessary, for he's disowned me. So you 
 needn't worry about him, or his money." 
 
 "Then he doesn't love you." 
 
 "He fairly hates me. So we can be married 
 at once."
 
 292 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "At once!" she rose hastily. 
 
 "Well that is when this row is over." 
 
 Breathlessly she inquired what "row," her 
 mind all at once alert to extraneous matters, 
 plied him with questions and drew from his re- 
 luctant lips the statement that he had deposed 
 Corbetson and taken charge of the dam camp, 
 theoretically if not actually, which probably 
 would create a disturbance. 
 
 "Why did you do anything so bold?" she de- 
 manded. 
 
 "I don't call bouncing this miserable chief 
 anything very courageous, not him." 
 
 "You mustn't be killed, Jimmy," she said, 
 softly. 
 
 "People don't get killed in this sort of an 
 affair. And anyway I'll stay alive because I 
 want to marry you." 
 
 As if that were the most conclusive reason 
 in the world he nodded, took her cheeks be- 
 tween his hands and kissed her on the lips. In 
 an ecstasy of delight she closed her eyes, hardly 
 breathing, unmoving, losing herself in the rap- 
 ture of the moment. 
 
 "I want you just as you are, just Jimmy," 
 she said, afterward, "Jimmy, poor, disowned 
 and with a dear battered face."
 
 A NEW CHIEF IN COMMAND 293 
 
 Jimmy agreed to continue poor and dis- 
 owned, but protested against the maintenance 
 of a black-and-blue eye. Adjusting the ban- 
 dage which had slipped a trifle he led her out to 
 the pony which stood patiently awaiting his 
 mistress. 
 
 "And where is Mr. Corbetson?" she half- 
 whispered, when she sat in her saddle. 
 
 "Raising legions." 
 
 She began to tug at her gloves in uncertainty. 
 
 "I don't know what to do; I ought to stay 
 here if anything is going to happen to you." 
 
 "You must go home and stay there," he or- 
 dered sternly. 
 
 Glancing at him she compressed her lips 
 and replied that she would do what she thought 
 fit, with which declaration of independence she 
 drew the pony's head about and set off home- 
 ward at a foot pace. A sigh of relief escaped 
 Jimmy; he would rather be with 'Enid than any 
 other person in the world, but there were oc- 
 casions when work must be done, unpleasant 
 work, and it was best not to have girls around ; 
 which, taking into consideration all the circum- 
 stances of the previous evening might have 
 been called an egotistical view. 
 
 On a sudden Dukane perceived that work
 
 294 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 had stopped on the dam. The men, small as 
 ants, streamed off the structure and along the 
 road that led back to camp. A sense of ap- 
 prehension, a consciousness of impending cri- 
 sis, seized the watcher, as with hand shading 
 eyes against the sun, he noted this unwonted 
 occurrence. Had Corbetson indeed succeeded 
 in raising the camp against him, as the chief 
 had vowed to do? Jimmy experienced a tin- 
 gling down to his very toes. But he was not the 
 one to be caught unprepared, even though the 
 prospects were dark; he ran to the store and 
 bade Hop close and lock all its doors, then he 
 retraced his steps to the front of the office where 
 he took up his station at the portal. 
 
 Down upon the slope below him the laborers 
 began to arrive, moving in groups that mingled 
 and dissolved, stirred as he could see at even 
 so great a distance by some excitement. In 
 their midst he made out the various persons 
 who might play an important role in succeed- 
 ing events: Corbetson, Satterfield, Leschel- 
 les, Casey, the time-keeper, and others. As 
 the crowd drew near, the gang at the mixer 
 caught the infection, flung down their shovels 
 and joined the concourse.
 
 A NEW CHIEF IN COMMAND 295 
 
 Just at that instant the reporter trotted up 
 from the west on his jaded horse. 
 
 "Guess I'm in time," he said, "and, I im- 
 agine, just in time." 
 
 His face was haggard from loss of sleep and 
 caked with perspiration and dust as a result of 
 his long ride to and from the railroad. 
 
 "Yes, you're in time," Dukane rejoined. 
 "I gave the chief his walking papers as per 
 schedule; this is the flare-back." 
 
 The reporter leaped down, thrust his hand 
 through the bridle-rein and turned to the 
 speaker. 
 
 "If they crowd in too close, I'll pull the 
 horse across the door. That will stop them for 
 a moment. But, by Jove, if that whole bunch 
 is on the war-path " He concluded with a 
 long whistle. 
 
 "They're not, not all of them, I'll swear." 
 
 The workmen were now drawing near. In 
 the fore strode Corbetson and Lantry, with 
 half a dozen of the latter's followers close at 
 their heels. When they were within ten paces 
 Jimmy jerked forth his revolver and ordered 
 them to stop. 
 
 "You, Corbetson and you, Lantry, I'll
 
 296 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 drop you both in your tracks if you make a 
 move towards me." 
 
 "And so will I," a shrill voice called over 
 Jimmy's shoulder. 
 
 Hop Spencer stood in the door holding a 
 Winchester. 
 
 "Now, Casey, speak up for these men," Du- 
 kane said. "What is the meaning of this dem- 
 onstration?" 
 
 The timekeeper thus addressed, grinned, 
 "The chief says you threw him out." 
 
 "Right you are." 
 
 "And I always said you'd come into trouble, 
 ye fightin' spalpeen." 
 
 Jimmy raised a hand. 
 
 "The Irish never loved a man less because 
 he enjoyed fighting. Do you know, Casey, 
 and you others, why I threw out your chief? 
 I will tell you. Because in the first place my 
 name is Dukane, and Dukane and Company 
 fires any man it wants to who works for it. 
 Next, this black scoundrel, Corbetson, has been 
 robbing you in the store by selling you pants 
 and tobacco at two prices instead of one. 
 Hereafter your pants will cost you no more 
 than they should cost any honest man. Let 
 the chief stand by and deny it and I will
 
 A NEW CHIEF IN COMMAND 297 
 
 read a paper to you that Pennick wrote and 
 signed before he went away in which he tells 
 just how he and Corbetson fixed the game to 
 skin you out of your hard-earned dollars, put- 
 ting the same in their own pockets " 
 
 "Don't you believe him!" Corbetson shouted, 
 interrupting him, "It's all a lie a lie! He's 
 no more Dukane than I am, and your pants 
 were sold for cost." 
 
 A wild hub-bub of voices broke forth, men 
 shouting, exclaiming, calling to one another. 
 
 "What is all this?" Casey at last demanded, 
 when the noise died down. 
 
 "Just what I said. Not only that, but I've 
 others who know the truth the chief's own en- 
 gineers, the doctor " 
 
 Corbetson made a fierce gesture. 
 
 "Satterfield Leschelles! You dare not let 
 this young fool and scoundrel deceive you!" 
 
 But the two engineers walked forth to the 
 spot where Dukane stood. Satterfield care- 
 fully wiped his eye-glasses. 
 
 "Men, so far as Mr. Leschelles, the doctor 
 and I are concerned, we stand with young Du- 
 kane here," said he. "Though he came into 
 camp looking like a hobo, yet he's the son of 
 the president of the company."
 
 298 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Corbetson stared at the speaker; his face 
 went white and he clenched his palms. But 
 the next instant he fiercely rejected the notion 
 that such a catastrophe as this, that the boy 
 could indeed be Dukane's son, had befallen him. 
 
 "It's false and you're all in the plot." 
 
 Jimmy looked at him coldly, then once more 
 addressed the laborers. 
 
 "This is an affair that doesn't concern you, 
 men, except that hereafter you can buy stuff 
 for half what you've been paying," he stated. 
 "Mr. Corbetson and I will settle our business 
 between ourselves. All you have to do is keep 
 working." 
 
 One yelled to know if they should be paid. 
 
 "Not only paid," their new and youthful 
 chief responded, "but beginning this morning 
 every man gets a raise of twenty-five cents a 
 day." 
 
 Sudden and heavy silence reigned for an in- 
 stant, then as if from one throat there burst 
 a mighty shout. The crowd buzzed like a 
 swarm of bees and with a final hurrah turned 
 and swept downward towards the dam, laugh- 
 ing, shouting and sweeping Corbetson and his 
 few silent supporters along with them in their 
 jovial rush.
 
 A NEW CHIEF IN COMMAND 299 
 
 "That clever bit of financial diplomacy ends 
 the matter," the reporter said. 
 
 "On the contrary, it only begins it," Satter- 
 field replied.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE SKIRMISH 
 
 the noon hour Satterfield, Les- 
 chelles and Dukane remained with their 
 heads together in the office. The chest, whose 
 locks had been forced, gave up the maps which 
 it had concealed and the three men were busily 
 employed in comparing the false sheets with 
 the true. 
 
 "No wonder he's crazy to regain possession 
 here," the sandy-haired second assistant ex- 
 claimed indignantly, "with all this evidence 
 against him still in existence, besides what may 
 be in that." And he pointed at the safe which 
 remained closed, since the combination was un- 
 known to any except Corbetson. "Even some 
 of the money he's stolen through his tricks may 
 be locked up inside it, which he'd naturally 
 want to get before he skipped the country." 
 
 "Unless he has sent it away to some secret 
 bank account that he carries," Satterfield 
 
 300
 
 THE SKIRMISH 301 
 
 vouchsafed. "The fortunate thing about it all 
 is that you unmasked the fellow, Dukane, be- 
 fore he reaped the full profit of his rascally 
 cement scheme. He was just getting fairly 
 started. The foundation of the dam is solid 
 enough and built according to honest construc- 
 tion he did not dare to begin his flimsy work 
 until the forms were above the surface of the 
 stream ; that would have been too outrageously 
 criminal. We'll have to clean out what rub- 
 bish has since been dumped into the shell and 
 reconstruct those parts." 
 
 "Of course," Dukane said. "Begin at 
 once." 
 
 "It's good to know that we're working on 
 the square at last," Leschelles said, heartily. 
 "We'll tear that rotten stuff out in a hurry." 
 
 For perhaps fifteen minutes more they ex- 
 amined, compared and calculated over the 
 maps, when Casey, the time-keeper, and Calla- 
 han, who had lost his arm in the mixer and 
 whom Dukane had succeeded as boss of the 
 mixing-gang, burst in upon them. 
 
 "The devil's to pay!" Casey cried, his eyes 
 ablaze. "They've set a barrel of free whiskey 
 over yonder in a ravine, spread the word in 
 camp an' the boys are goin' to it like flies to
 
 302 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 sugar. It's under the belt they're hittin' ye, 
 Jimmy." 
 
 Dukane and the engineers rushed to the 
 door. Men moved by twos and threes away 
 from the camp along the base of the ridge to- 
 wards where a gully screened by bushes and 
 trees creased the hillside two hundred yards 
 distant. Some of the men walked leisurely, 
 masking their purpose under an air of casual 
 strolling; some went with hunched shoulders, 
 shamefacedly casting surreptitious glances 
 back at the camp; while bolder spirits, casting 
 aside all pretense, moved straight ahead, jok- 
 ing and laughing aloud. But that a definite 
 idea dominated them all, that each sought the 
 same goal, was apparent as they converged 
 upon the mouth of the little ravine. About the 
 door of one of the bunk-houses thirty or forty 
 men loitered, these the steadier workmen for 
 whom liquor had no attraction. 
 
 "Whisper whiskey to that bunch of work- 
 easys and they forget all about an increase in 
 pay," Callahan growled, jerking his thumb to- 
 wards the deserters. 
 
 "Yes, and half an hour from now it's a howl- 
 ing mob of wolves we'll have," Casey supple- 
 mented.
 
 THE SKIRMISH 303 
 
 "Do you think they'll make trouble?" Jimmy 
 asked, anxiously. 
 
 "And for why not? What did ye think 
 Lantry and Corbetson haled a barrel of whis- 
 key in a wagon from Tunneltown for if not 
 to give ye a warm entertainment. When that 
 scum is crazy drunk, they'll do anything 
 smash things for choice." 
 
 Jimmy looked at the gully, then at the work- 
 men who remained. 
 
 "Could we run them off?" 
 
 "Could we run off a herd of thirty cattle 
 from water? They would give their lives for 
 that whiskey, now their noses smell it. Be 
 wise and let 'em be but get ready, say I. 
 I've seen a camp or two wrecked by whiskey 
 in me time." 
 
 "Sure, ye can't stop 'em now, except with a 
 whole army and maybe not so," Callahan cor- 
 roborated. 
 
 At that instant the one o'clock whistle blew. 
 In answer there came a faint, derisive shout 
 from the gully. Jimmy gazed hard in that di- 
 rection, his jaw hard and his lips set ; for he was 
 exceedingly angry and exceedingly determined 
 angry that Corbetson had stolen a march on 
 him, though suspecting that the inspiration for
 
 304 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 the plan was Lantry's, determined to deal with 
 the traitorous crew in lusty fashion. Recollec- 
 tion of his short-lived triumph came to torment 
 him. 
 
 "Call up those fellows," said he, nodding to- 
 wards the workmen before the bunk-house, who 
 were in quandary whether or not to proceed to 
 their customary labor. 
 
 Casey raised a shout, calling them to the of- 
 fice and presently they stood before the door 
 in an expectant group. In hot, short sentences 
 Jimmy expressed his opinion of the deserters, 
 then poured a stream of praises upon his listen- 
 ers for their loyalty. Would they stand by 
 him through thick and thin, or would they not ? 
 That was what he wanted to know. If they 
 did, they should receive ten dollars a day until 
 order was restored, or if hurt in the row which 
 would probably come, until they were well. 
 He did not want men who would quit in a 
 pinch, but who would fight till Lantry and his 
 gang were whipped. He was now hiring them 
 to fight and not to work and let those who 
 were ready sign their names on a paper, so 
 it would be known who earned the money. Be- 
 sides, whoever backed him up now, should af- 
 terwards receive a dollar a day more on his 
 wages as long as he worked on the dam.
 
 THE SKIRMISH 305 
 
 "Pass round the roll of honor, Casey," he 
 concluded, much satisfied with his extemporan- 
 eous oration. 
 
 A cheer greeted his offer. The men 
 crowded eagerly forward to sign under so lav- 
 ish a patron. Satterfield, who had looked on 
 in grave silence, turned to his young chief, re- 
 garding him quizzically. 
 
 "You're prodigal of promises," he said. 
 
 "I heard my father once say never to count 
 pennies in a crisis, besides I'm not paying the 
 bill myself." 
 
 "Will the company pay it, I wonder?" 
 
 "They will," Jimmy answered decisively, 
 "even if I have to club them into it." 
 
 Half an hour later the youth's cohort sat on 
 the ground in front of the office, forty-two in 
 number, each armed with a stout axe-helve or 
 shovel-handle drawn from the company's sup- 
 plies. Callahan, Casey and Miller, the chief 
 teamster, who had been appointed to act as 
 leaders, from time to time, gave them advice 
 upon the advantage of sticking together and 
 fighting in close order. Within the office 
 were gathered the others Satterfield and Les- 
 chelles, Kendle, the doctor, Hop Spencer, the 
 reporter, and Dukane. As they talked the dis- 
 tant shouts and yells which had begun to arise
 
 306 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 from the gully, making plain that the liquor 
 was working on the hundred-odd drinkers, 
 were borne through the open door upon the 
 light southern breeze to their ears. 
 
 The danger-points for danger points they 
 would unquestionably become once Corbetson 
 and Lantry succeeded in infecting the men 
 with their own desperate spirit would be the 
 office, the engine-house, and the powder-house. 
 While the office would be the former chief's 
 main goal, the drunken mob of workmen would 
 undoubtedly seek, if baffled, to destroy what- 
 ever part of the plant they conceived to be 
 most susceptible of damage. Any serious 
 breakage in the power-, mixing-, or stone-crush- 
 ing machinery would cause infinite labor to re- 
 pair and long delay. The stone-crusher, off 
 across the basin and away from the camp, had 
 a crew and bunk-house of its own and to judge 
 by the steady muffled rumble sounding steadily 
 from that direction its men as yet knew noth- 
 ing of the revolution going on at the dam. It 
 would have to take its own chance, for to dis- 
 patch thither a portion of the small force wait- 
 ing before the door would be only to divide the 
 troop and invite complete disaster. As for the 
 engine-house, at that very instant in walked
 
 THE SKIRMISH 307 
 
 the engineer, grimy and oil-splashed. He had 
 come for information, he explained, and to ask 
 if the fires should be kept going or be banked. 
 
 "If it's only them drunken hoboes," said he, 
 when the situation had been made clear, "leave 
 them to me. I'll attach a two-inch hose to the 
 boiler and the first head that shows at a window 
 will get his hair scalded off. Sure, boiling 
 water's the stuff I hope they come." With 
 which declaration he betook himself back to the 
 engine-house to put his peculiar artillery in 
 order. 
 
 "And it's him will do it too," Casey grinned, 
 who had been listening at the door. 
 
 A period of inaction followed. The com- 
 pany of defenders who had rallied to Dukane's 
 standard lay before the office in all the postures 
 of sprawling ease. They joked among them- 
 selves, grown lively at the prospect of a melee ; 
 they indulged in horse-play, rapping each other 
 upon the shoulders with the staves they carried 
 or poking neighbors in the ribs; and as if in- 
 jury were the most trivial thing in the world, 
 bantered one another upon a prospective so- 
 journ in the hospital. The sun flooded the 
 basin out of a cloudless sky. Only the unmov- 
 ing mixer, the silent trams, the abandoned
 
 308 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 dam, seemed strange in their present idleness. 
 
 Dukane and his associates speculated upon 
 what degree of drunkenness the absent work- 
 men might arrive at; if they should not be 
 checked in their drinking and persuaded away 
 from the gully the prospective attack would 
 hiss down into nothing, like a damp fire- 
 cracker. If, however, Lantry could master 
 them at the right stage, they would be ripe for 
 any mischief. The reporter alone was busy, 
 having withdrawn to one side where he should 
 be undisturbed while weaving the tale of the 
 progressing adventures of James A. Dukane, 
 junior. For once in his journalistic career he 
 found a situation completely to his satisfaction 
 high lights, low lights, tableau and plot, hero, 
 heroine and villain ; and, ah ! all that was needed 
 to perfect the last flourish was to dip his pen 
 in blood. 
 
 "There they come," Satterfield stated finally, 
 who had been standing at a window gazing 
 through a pair of field-glasses at the mouth of 
 the ravine. 
 
 A group of men emerged. They halted, 
 staring in the direction of the camp and evi- 
 dently undetermined whether to advance or to 
 remain. But others straggled forth to join
 
 THE SKIRMISH 309 
 
 them ana then at last came the whole swarm. 
 Through the glasses they were plainly in view, 
 as they shifted and moved about Corbetson and 
 Lantry who were addressing them. Then they 
 raised a sudden cheer which was borne on the 
 light wind to the men who awaited their com- 
 ing, and started forward in a dense, disorderly 
 mass. 
 
 Outside the office the faithful band had risen 
 to their feet, all at once silent, watchful, ear- 
 nest, expectant, knitting their brows or chew- 
 ing their tobacco-quids more quickly. Calla- 
 han walked up and down in front of them. 
 
 "I've only one hand, men, but I can whip 
 any six of the swilling beasts," he was saying. 
 "You will warm to it, you will love the work 
 before we're done with 'em. You never made 
 such easy money. And if you would make 'em 
 sick of the job, rap 'em on the shins. It's the 
 shins you want to hit for in the beginning, then 
 when they double up, take 'em on top of the 
 head. That's strategy, men, and it's Calla- 
 han who knows all about a shindy." 
 
 The men grinned in appreciation of his ad- 
 vice, half a dozen voicing their assurance. 
 
 "It's a shame we can't give you something 
 better to practice on," Casey said, with twin-
 
 310 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 kling eyes, "but you must excuse us, for the 
 party was got up in a hurry; next time we'll 
 do better." 
 
 A full laugh greeted this sally and a couple 
 of burly "hard-rock" men clapped him on the 
 back. 
 
 "What's the bounty on pelts?" one cried. 
 
 That the body of approaching laborers had 
 perceived them was made evident even at a dis- 
 tance by a chorus of yells, jeers, cat-calls and 
 taunting shouts. From men merely having a 
 thirst for liquor they had become inflamed by 
 whiskey and provocative talk until they im- 
 agined themselves the victims of some trick. 
 A number were already pretty far gone, stag- 
 gering in their walk and lurching unsteadily, 
 flinging their hands up in dazed gestures, being 
 impelled forward by the mere example of the 
 greater number. But it was not at them the 
 defenders gazed ; there were the active, belliger- 
 ent incensed ruffians, by far the greater num- 
 ber, who must be dealt with. Already they 
 were hurling curses at Dukane, at the engi- 
 neers, at everybody but themselves. 
 
 In their midst strode Lantry and Corbetson. 
 The former led in the demonstration directed 
 at the office, the latter moved unsteadily and
 
 In their midst strode Lantry and Corbetson 
 
 Page
 
 THE SKIRMISH 311 
 
 with a reckless, desperate, liquor-flushed look 
 on his face. Clearly he had thrown all caution 
 to the winds, drowned his natural timidity at 
 the barrel and now risked all on this stroke in 
 order to regain possession of the camp. 
 Strangely out of place he appeared in the midst 
 of the noisy crowd and Satterfield and Leschel- 
 les who had been so long his associates regarded 
 him in silence, almost in sorrow. 
 
 "Come over here to us, where you belong, 
 you hellions," a burly swaggerer shouted at the 
 waiting line, "or we'll bring you." 
 
 The chance of retort was too good to let 
 escape ; a score of voices from the defenders in- 
 vited the speaker to proceed with the job and 
 with the invitation went caustic and profane 
 comments upon his record, character and per- 
 son. 
 
 "Will you give up that young fool Hemple, 
 or will you not?" Lantry demanded, thrusting 
 himself to the fore. 
 
 "We will not, to you or to anybody." 
 
 "Then come on, men, we'll get him," Lantry 
 shouted, turning to his followers. 
 
 For a few paces they surged after him, but 
 in the face of the determined line presented by 
 the smaller force they lagged and finally came
 
 312 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 to a halt. The sight of the staves of the sober, 
 eager men, who only awaited a pretext to leap 
 into action, caused them to pause, half -intoxi- 
 cated though they were, and indeed they had 
 not yet received the outward repulse which was 
 necessary to kindle and inflame their passions 
 and start them on a riotous course. Callahan 
 was not of the temperament to adopt pacific 
 methods. Somewhere in the mob which sur- 
 rounded Lantry a humorous, drunken individ- 
 ual heaved a stone at the row of defenders, 
 whereupon half a dozen of his companions took 
 profit from his example and addressed them- 
 selves to throwing at the line of human targets ; 
 and so excellent did the idea appear that pres- 
 ently the whole mob stooped to gather missiles. 
 
 "Charge!" Callahan roared, who recognized 
 a crisis. 
 
 Instantly his corps of janissaries sprang for- 
 ward, covering the narrow intervening space 
 before the disorderly mass of assailants were 
 aware what w r as happening and sweeping them 
 back in a single disorderly wave. Lantry 
 raged at the men nearest him; but the stone- 
 throwers were caught at a disadvantage, as- 
 saulted while yet in a stooping posture, beaten 
 over shins, over shoulders, over heads, until they
 
 THE SKIRMISH 313 
 
 bawled in an indescribable uproar. Those 
 whom liquor had made uncertain upon their 
 feet early fell to the ground in the melee and 
 were trampled under heel; shovel-handles and 
 axe-helves flew; the members of Callahan's 
 army exchanged shouts and jests; until finally 
 the mob which as a whole had made no con- 
 certed resistance, burst before the defenders 
 and scattered southward. Callahan and Casey 
 called their men back to the office. 
 
 "That will do nicely," said the time-keeper, 
 "nicely for a starter." 
 
 But only a starter it was. Since the band of 
 deserters were not pursued, they did not run 
 far; they gathered together, cursing and shak- 
 ing fists and rubbing bruised spots. On the 
 skirmish-ground a few of the fallen struggled 
 feebly, aimlessly, to climb to their feet and 
 when this end was accomplished they stumbled 
 away in blind meanderings until they should 
 discover some haven where they might snore 
 off their debauch. To these Lantry paid no 
 attention; but he addressed the mob about him 
 in fierce, impassioned tones. 
 
 Suddenly the watchers at the office perceived 
 that a quarrel had broken out between him and 
 Corbetson. The two spoke hotly, gesticulat-
 
 314 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 ing, in turn seeking favor with the angry 
 crowd. Whatever their opposing views, and 
 it appeared that Corbetson had at last balked 
 at the violence which the other advocated 
 Lantry carried the crowd with him, a burst of 
 yells rang out and bearing Corbetson with 
 them they approached on the run. 
 
 This time they were moved by no aimless 
 purpose. The knocks they had received, the 
 bruises, the aching heads and shoulders, were 
 fresh . and a flame burned in their breast, 
 an avid desire for revenge. But they did 
 not halt in front of the office. Corbetson 
 strove to persuade them so to do and to di- 
 rect them to such a course, only to be 
 hooted and jeered. Destruction of whatever 
 they could lay hands on now alone would 
 satisfy them; and the insidious suggestion 
 which Lantry had made to tear down the camp 
 building by building, met with their drunken 
 approval. 
 
 The power-house had apparently been de- 
 cided upon as their first point of attack. 
 Catching up stones as they ran, a few of which 
 were flung at the men in front of the office 
 the crowd swept by. For the office had at 
 present only a minor interest ; the company of
 
 THE SKIRMISH 315 
 
 defenders under Callahan should later be at- 
 tended to, according to Lantry's talk, when the 
 camp was laid low. A savage, implacable 
 band they were. The over-drunk, the weak, 
 the fearful, had fallen out and of the remaining 
 hundred-odd who pressed forward there was 
 not one but had been transformed by liquor 
 and the earlier defeat into a maddened, des- 
 perate destroyer. 
 
 When they came even with the mess-house, 
 the appearance of a cook with a pan in his 
 hand standing in the door created a tem- 
 porary diversion. In spite of Lantry's efforts 
 to keep them in the original direction, they 
 swerved at sight of him, yelping like hounds 
 who suddenly sight a quarry, and made for 
 their man. All was grist that came to their 
 mill. The cook took one startled look, uttered 
 a yell of fright and disappeared within, fol- 
 lowed by as many of the crowd as could wedge 
 into the door. A clatter of outraged pans and 
 pots sounded inside the kitchen, while from the 
 rear the four cooks burst forth and raced to the 
 office for safety. One still clutched a ladle, his 
 white apron flapping wildly, his cap awry. 
 Several of the looters even proceeded so far 
 as to pursue them a distance. And meanwhile
 
 316 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 the horrible uproar of maltreated tin-ware went 
 on, until at last the marauders' vengeance had 
 its fill in this particular channel. The cooks 
 hiding behind the bulwark of Callahan's army 
 swore and cursed and called down imprecations 
 on the unholy rioters. 
 
 "They're bitin' off their nose to spite their 
 face," said Casey, calmly. "Rest easy, you 
 pie-makers. They'll be round for suuper and 
 that's where you get square." 
 
 Meanwhile the human inundation had passed 
 through and over the mess-house, swallowed, 
 spat it out and swirled on towards the power- 
 house. 
 
 "They're growin' mean," Callahan addressed 
 Dukane, where the whole body of defenders 
 stood waiting and biding their time. "Lantry 
 is a wise captain, lettin' 'em have just enough 
 whiskey to make 'em ugly if they're crossed. 
 What about us? Do we mix again, or do we 
 sit idling away the time twiddlin' thumbs?" 
 
 "Give the engineer down yonder a chance 
 first," Jimmy stated. 
 
 The doors of the power-house had been 
 closed and barred and the windows shut. On 
 the former the mob hurled themselves until 
 they rattled and creaked upon their hinges, but
 
 THE SKIRMISH 317 
 
 they were solidly built and withstood the strain. 
 Around a corner the crowd of drunken men 
 ran, following the first suggestion offered by 
 one of their number, and a shower of stones 
 cleaned out the first pair of windows. A shout 
 of triumph traveled up the slope to the watch- 
 ers, which was quickly followed by shrill 
 screams of astonishment, pain, agony and 
 anger. As if tossed back by a mighty blast of 
 wind the mob curled up on itself, huddled an 
 instant in confusion and then fled wildly away. 
 Boiling water was an enemy not to be endured. 
 Of the hundred and more who had joined in 
 this last maneuver a good score were placed 
 hors de combat by the steaming, unlooked-for 
 stream which greeted them at the window. 
 Some of the men groaned or rolled upon the 
 ground in suffering, sobered and conscious 
 only of their pain. But the greater number 
 gathered in a silent, sullen crowd and glared at 
 the building. Lantry talked, urging, impre- 
 cating, threatening. He pointed at the mixer. 
 The mob swung without a word in that di- 
 rection and headed for it; here at least was 
 machinery which stood unprotected, the loss 
 of which would cause a serious stoppage of 
 work.
 
 318 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Shall we stand here and see that happen?" 
 Callahan asked, mortally angry at the assault 
 upon his own particular machine. 
 "Are you afraid to attack them?" 
 "Afraid, we'll drive 'em into the river!" 
 Like an avalanche the body of men, led by 
 the intrepid Callahan and Casey, swept down 
 the slope past mess-house and bunk-house, run- 
 ning silently, intent on the enemy. This fight 
 would not be a joke, they well knew, and in 
 consequence saved their breath against the time 
 when they should need it. But the rioters who 
 swarmed about the mixing-plant in an en- 
 deavor to wreck and destroy its machinery, ob- 
 served them coming, a shout of battle-lust 
 sounded a welcome to conflict and next minute 
 the two forces lost their identities in a raging, 
 swirling mass of human figures. 
 
 Out-numbered though Dukane's supporters 
 were, out-numbered by more than two to one, 
 they made up in sobriety, efficiency, prepared- 
 ness and cohesion what they lacked in strength. 
 Callahan and Casey rallied them continually; 
 they clung together, having entered the midst 
 of Lantry's followers in a solid wedge, and 
 they had the further advantage of carrying 
 weapons. "Every time you see a head, crack
 
 THE SKIRMISH 319 
 
 it," had been Casey's single injunction. And 
 this plan and direct method of warfare the as- 
 sailants followed. 
 
 Yet numbers presently began to count. 
 Among Lantry's force were men as burly, as 
 vigorous, as active and as lustful as those who 
 had hurled themselves down upon them. At 
 first beaten back and under the necessity of 
 meeting staves with fists they gave ground 
 until the contest moved away from the mixer 
 down towards the river, into which Callahan 
 had promised to drive the deserters; but as 
 Lantry's followers observed the inferiority of 
 the others, as they gathered themselves to- 
 gether, by the natural magnetism of making a 
 defense, they stood firm, shook their heads 
 under the hail of blows and then with a sudden 
 burst of ferocity leaped at the invaders. 
 
 Over the ground whither had moved the cur- 
 rent of battle there lay here and there a dazed 
 or a feebly crawling victim, who had fallen and 
 who might have been designated as the "slain," 
 for they were at any rate of no further use. 
 Those who were capable of movement sought 
 to withdraw on one side when they observed the 
 contest swinging back once more over the same 
 course. For Lantry's army was now in the
 
 320 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 ascendant, and though his antagonists with- 
 drew in good order they nevertheless were in 
 retreat. All at once when they reached the 
 mixer both forces as if by sudden consent 
 ceased to struggle. They drew a little way 
 apart and regarded each other. Of Lantry's 
 hundred and more there remained only fifty 
 who were not down or fled, and these bruised, 
 bloody, torn, disreputable, ferocious, looked for 
 all the world like some band of beggars come 
 out of the hills to pillage. The members of 
 Dukane's flying troop were in no better case, 
 though thanks to their staves they had not suf- 
 fered so severely in numbers. 
 
 "And how do you like the welcome, Lantry ?" 
 Callahan shouted, a great cut from which blood 
 dripped over one eye. 
 
 "We've but begun, damn you," that worthy 
 retorted, "and when we've had a drink to re- 
 fresh us, then God help you !" 
 
 His followers caught up the suggestion, cry- 
 ing "a drink, a drink!" and abandoning their 
 conquest of the mixer set out one and all for 
 the gully where they had left the barrel of whis- 
 key. 
 
 "Well, what do ye think of that!" Casey ex- 
 claimed, in astonishment at this ludicrous per-
 
 THE SKIRMISH 321 
 
 formance. "They won't even stay to be en- 
 tirely licked." 
 
 "Did you see Corbetson?" Callahan asked. 
 "Lantry has taken things over and the old chief 
 is simply driftin', don't know what to do." 
 
 "Take heed, then, Mike, for the future. Ob- 
 serve what comes of bad companions. And 
 meanwhile let us look over the dead and 
 wounded to see which need court plaster. This 
 day I shall never forget." 
 
 A sudden roar, a united yell of rage, of dis- 
 appointment, of ferocity, burst suddenly from 
 the gully. Out from its mouth Lantry and 
 his men poured like a swarm of streaming hor- 
 nets. 
 
 "The devil's to pay about something and 
 what is it?" Casey exclaimed. 
 
 Nevertheless he and Callahan hastily gath- 
 ered their cohort together and without waiting 
 to learn the cause of this extraordinary erup- 
 tion marched up to the office, where they took 
 their old station.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE BATTLE 
 
 the rest of you watched them 
 fight, I struck them at their unpro- 
 tected base. In other words, I walked up yon- 
 der and tipped over what was left of the barrel 
 of whiskey." 
 
 Kendle spoke. His explanation was vouch- 
 safed in respect to the mysterious rage which 
 seemed to have all at once taken possession of 
 the revelers when they reached the gully and 
 which caused them immediately to return upon 
 the camp. That the deprivation of liquor cut 
 to their thirsty souls was only too apparent : in 
 manner, in voice, in act, they made plain their 
 fury. They had never dreamt of such an in- 
 sidious blow. 
 
 "There'll be no parleying this time," the 
 journalist remarked. "And they're fit to blow 
 everything to Kingdom Come." 
 
 Jimmy Dukane uttered an exclamation. 
 
 "By Jove, the powder-house I"
 
 THE BATTLE 323 
 
 "It's locked," Leschelles assured him. 
 
 "Yes, but locks will be nothing to that mob 
 once it sets out to burst through and seize the 
 dynamite." 
 
 "The door's a stout one," the second engineer 
 maintained. And then, "Just look at the hill 
 over yonder !" 
 
 On top of the ridge overlooking the camp, 
 figures could be discerned moving among the 
 scanty pines and posting themselves at points 
 of observation. A hasty examination by Sat- 
 terfield through the field-glasses showed them to 
 be neither enemies nor friends, but an audience 
 of curious workmen from other camps. Word 
 of the extraordinary usurpation of power by 
 Dukane, of the driving forth of Corbetson, of 
 the threats by Lantry to make the youth go 
 out of the camp feet first, of the rebellion and 
 prospective war, had flown as ever word of im- 
 minent trouble flies to the other camps at the 
 tunnel and upon the irrigation canal. Men 
 flung down their tools and came to Silver Peak 
 Dam, where choosing the ridge as a safe and 
 excellent location to follow the fight, they set- 
 tled down to watch, indifferent as to the merits 
 of the case and hostile to neither party. Since 
 they belonged in otKer camps, the outcome con-
 
 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 cerned them not and they yelled equal en- 
 couragement to both forces of the combatants. 
 
 But Dukane gave them only a single hur- 
 ried glance, then he turned and ran through the 
 office into the store, where Hop Spencer main- 
 tained his watch. 
 
 "Can you shoot, Hop?" he demanded. 
 
 "I used to." 
 
 "Then if you see anyone try to get into the 
 powder-house, shoot him down." 
 
 "Kill him?" 
 
 "Yes, kill him. For if any of those scoun- 
 drels get at the dynamite, it'll be all day with 
 the dam, the camp and the rest of us." 
 
 "I'll do the best I can, though I ain't shot 
 much lately." 
 
 "Pump lead at whoever tries to break the 
 door it will scare him even if it doesn't hit 
 him." 
 
 Leaving Spencer busy at work filling the 
 magazine of a Winchester with cartridges Du- 
 kane ran back into the office. As if in the men 
 whom Callahan and Casey mustered the disap- 
 pointed and enraged malcontents beheld fit 
 subjects for their passions, they made straight 
 for them, their eyes flashing, their hands 
 clenched. This was the crucial moment. Cor-
 
 THE BATTLE 325 
 
 betson, who had given up hope of regaining the 
 office, now had hope revived and cheered the 
 men on to the attack ; while Lantry asked noth- 
 ing better than to continue the fight. Before 
 the office then the battle was presently raging, 
 this time with a desperation unequalled by any 
 previous assault. Roused by the bold and 
 threatening cries of their assailants, the defend- 
 ers displayed an equally aggressive spirit, 
 swinging their axe-helves merrily when they 
 had not lost them and resorting to fists when 
 they had. 
 
 "If we only had a reserve force to throw into 
 the ruction," Jimmy Dukane growled. 
 
 "Come out here where I can get a hand on 
 you," Lantry shouted. "Of course, you hold 
 back and look on, you coward!" 
 
 All the hatred of the man which had been 
 nurtured in his breast for weeks flamed up in 
 Jimmy, all the desire to beat this enemy into 
 helpless dust, to grind him under heel, demolish 
 him, surged in his bosom and he made a leap 
 towards the fight in response to the taunt. But 
 Satterfield caught him by the arm. 
 
 "Let me go, let me go!" Dukane cried, an- 
 grily striking at the detaining hand. 
 
 "No, they'd kill you in there."
 
 326 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Let me go, I don't care." 
 
 Leschelles had come to Satterfield's assist- 
 ance and together they dragged the furious 
 youth back into the office, where they expressed 
 themselves vigorously upon the subject of such 
 recklessness. Indeed, Jimmy came quickly to 
 his senses when Satterfield pointed out, speak- 
 ing in a calm, ironical voice, that the battle was 
 going against them and in another five minutes 
 Corbetson would once more be sitting in the 
 office chair. 
 
 "Not much he won't, not while we've got fire 
 arms," Jimmy declared, rushing to the inner 
 store door. 
 
 A minute later he returned bearing a load 
 of shot guns and rifles, which he stacked near 
 the door ready to hand. 
 
 "If anyone attempts to enter here, blow him 
 to pieces," he exclaimed. 
 
 And indeed a warning was necessary. Cal- 
 lahan was down, overwhelmed by enemies and 
 handicapped by the lack of one arm; Casey 
 continued to fight on at the head of his remain- 
 ing supporters, keeping them about him in a 
 compact mass which should offer the greatest 
 resistance and work the most effective injury. 
 Suddenly they were swept aside, beaten down
 
 THE BATTLE 
 
 and rendered helpless. Lantry and a score of 
 men, wearing the dust and blood of their fierce 
 encounter, appeared before the office door. 
 
 "We'll pay you out now, you scum," Lantry 
 roared triumphantly, shaking a fist at Du- 
 kane and licking his lips. 
 
 Dukane lifted a shot gun into sight; other 
 weapons were thrust out the windows in the 
 faces of the rioters who shrank back. An un- 
 holy light of joy filled Jimmy's eyes, a reckless 
 smile transformed his visage ; he thrust the muz- 
 zle of the shot gun first at Lantry, then at Cor- 
 betson, both of whom had crowded towards 
 him. 
 
 "Come another step and receive the load of 
 lead that's waiting for you," he cried. 
 
 A shot gun is an ugly weapon, far more ef- 
 fective at close range than a rifle and exceed- 
 ingly wider in its action, and the average man 
 has a greater dread of its effects than of the 
 other and higher-powered gun. Lantry and 
 Corbetson hastily withdrew. Curses flowed 
 from the lips of the former, as he recognized 
 that numbers would not count here and that an 
 attack upon the office would be a needless waste 
 of life. 
 
 "What will you do now?" he exclaimed, turn-
 
 328 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 ing fiercely to Corbetson. "I've got the men 
 for you and I've won the fight can't you use 
 that brain of yours to think of something?" 
 
 But the former chief, now that his last hope 
 was destroyed, appeared given over to despair. 
 Without answering in words he shook his head 
 and stared in a daze at the ground. 
 
 "And I thought you were a man!" Lantry 
 scoffed, derisively. "If I'd known what sort 
 of stuff you're made of, I'd never have gone 
 into this thing with you." iWith which he 
 turned his back on Corbetson. 
 
 At that instant Callahan who had lain ap- 
 parently in a stupor from a blow received in 
 the scrimmage, suddenly reached forth his one 
 hand from where he lay, seized Lantry by the 
 ankle and jerked his feet out from under him. 
 Next instant the pair were locked in each oth- 
 er's embrace, rolling and fighting upon the 
 ground, to the astonishment of Lantry's fol- 
 lowers, who, however, presently recovered suf- 
 ficiently to run forward and attempt to kick 
 Callahan in head or body. 
 
 "By heaven, I won't stand that!" Dukane 
 shouted, to anybody who cared to hear. 
 
 Bounding out of the office door, still grip- 
 ping his shot gun as he ran and emitting a
 
 THE BATTLE 329 
 
 blood-curdling yell he raced towards the hos- 
 tile group. That they were startled at this sud- 
 den and unexpected attack is putting it lightly; 
 but they turned to meet him. With the barrel 
 of his gun pointing over their heads, Dukane let 
 go one barrel, at the same instant giving vent 
 to another terrifying yell. In the midst of the 
 confusion that followed, a confusion of shouts 
 and shrieks from men who expected next to re- 
 ceive a scattering fire of shot in their faces, 
 Jimmy stuck the barrel of the gun skyward 
 and fired again. 
 
 After him came the others pouring out of 
 the office Satterfield, Leschelles, Kendle and 
 the reporter, each swinging a gun ready to deal 
 execution. When the smoke cleared the bat- 
 tle-field was bare, except for the victors, for the 
 wounded of the earlier melee and for Callahan 
 and Lantry who fought to grasp each other's 
 throat ; the enemy had fled, was still fleeing. 
 
 Dukane dropped his gun and pounced on 
 Lantry. 
 
 "Get a rope, Leschelles, get a rope," he 
 called over his shoulder. 
 
 When the assistant engineer had brought a 
 piece of rope from the store they tied up the 
 captive, after dragging him away from Calla-
 
 330 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 ban and bound him to a chair in the office. Du- 
 kane was jubilant; even Satterfield viewed the 
 prisoner with an air of satisfaction, for with- 
 out question Lantry it was who had been the 
 active spirit in organizing and developing the 
 riot. With him out of the way the rest of the 
 men should be easily taken care of, since they 
 would be without leadership. 
 
 "The worst is over," the doctor said, "I can 
 now go out and look for broken heads." 
 
 But in this he was mistaken. The men who 
 had fled so ignominiously stopped, gathered 
 about Corbetson and fell into vigorous consul- 
 tation. Altogether there were forty or fifty, 
 counting those who had been temporarily dis- 
 abled but who had returned for another try of 
 fortunes, and the whole group displayed no dis- 
 position to abandon the battle. Committed 
 as they were already they were not in a mood 
 to stop at half a loaf. Corbetson, too, now 
 that Lantry had been removed from active par- 
 ticipation and leadership, suddenly developed 
 courage under the responsibility of directing 
 the crowd. With quick, sharp words which 
 the men before the office could hear but not dis- 
 tinguish, he addressed his companions pointing 
 now here, now there, about the camp. 
 
 All at once there came a clatter of hoofs on
 
 THE BATTLE 
 
 the road and Enid Crofton galloped up to 
 where Dukane and his companions stood before 
 the office watching the opposite party. 
 
 "Are you safe, unhurt?" she demanded. 
 "I've sat off over yonder waiting and looking, 
 but could see only half the time what was go- 
 ing on. TsTow I can't stand it any longer, I'm 
 going to stay here." 
 
 "You'll do nothing of the kind," Jimmy de- 
 clared, sternly. "This is no place for a girl." 
 
 "If you send me away now, it will be for- 
 ever," she answered, in a low voice but one 
 carrying a threat. 
 
 "But, the deuce! you can't stay around 
 with stones and everything else flying." 
 
 "We shall see whether I can." She dis- 
 mounted and looked at him with an air of hau- 
 teur. "I come and go as I please." 
 
 "I'll lock you up in the closet," he cried, 
 angrily. 
 
 "Hardly," was the calm reply. "Besides I 
 love you, and shall go where you go." 
 
 "Of all stubborn " he began. 
 
 But at that instant Satterfield touched him 
 on the elbow, pointing towards the mess-houses. 
 
 "What do you think they're doing?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Dukane gazed hard at the buildings behind
 
 332 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 which the disloyal workmen were busy appear- 
 ing and disappearing as they moved about. 
 All at once a thin column of smoke rose up and 
 floated away on the breeze. 
 
 "Callahan Casey gather men and stop 
 that!" Satterfield ordered. 
 
 Of the original forty defenders who had 
 stood in line to receive the invaders, scarcely a 
 one remained but who carried marks of the 
 various struggles in which they had engaged. 
 A dozen assembled quickly in response to Cal- 
 lahan's call, another dozen limped and crawled 
 forward to the spot, bearing cut heads, broken 
 hands or ribs, or cruelly bruised bodies. Over 
 the ground were scattered the forms of men, 
 friends and foes, some unconscious, some pain- 
 fully injured and content to keep quiet, some 
 slumbering in the peaceful bliss of drunken- 
 ness; and of these of all sorts, the far greater 
 numbers were of Lantry's force, who remained 
 the evidence of the dexterity, quickness and 
 strength of Dukane's small loyal band. 
 
 "We are ready," Callahan stated. 
 
 "Stay where you are, I'll not send men who 
 have already fought so well into an uneven bat- 
 tle," Dukane announced. 
 
 'Tis not uneven. We are the equal of them 
 all, and more."
 
 THE BATTLE 333 
 
 "I'll not have you beaten up again, even if 
 they do burn the bunk-houses." 
 
 Such, indeed, was the apparent intention of 
 the men moving about those structures. Un- 
 der cover of their walls they had heaped up 
 enough sticks and splinters to kindle a flame 
 against one of the box-like sides, which the tar- 
 paper and dry boards readily fed. In two 
 minutes a dense column of smoke rose from one 
 building, while almost immediately another 
 ascended from the second bunk-house, and then 
 with a roar and a rush of flames the two build- 
 ings were engulfed in fire. 
 
 The watchers looked on in silence. Here 
 was the first felonious act of the rioters 
 and marked an advance in the degree of their 
 desperation. The smoke rolled northward on 
 the gentle breeze, filling every ravine and in- 
 terstice of the northern hills and presently ob- 
 scured them from view. The observers from 
 the other camps lined the top of the ridge, sit- 
 ting silent or gesticulating in excited conver- 
 sation. 
 
 "That is the beginning of the end," Satter- 
 field remarked, removing his eye-glasses. "It's 
 only a matter of time now when they will get 
 around to the other buildings and the machin- 
 ery."
 
 334. THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 Higher and blacker rolled the smoke from 
 the two burning houses. As if the spectacle 
 which these constituted for the time satisfied 
 Corbetson's men's appetite for destruction, 
 they drew back as the heat increased, but con- 
 tinued about the fires interested watchers, oc- 
 casionally shouting a jest among themselves. 
 
 It was about five o'clock when the perpetra- 
 tors of this deed, sated by fire and smoke, 
 turned to cast about for other material upon 
 which to put their destructive hand. Evening 
 was not very far off. The long afternoon rays 
 were slanting down into the basin at an angle 
 which indicated that they would soon be 
 blocked by the western portion of the ridge. 
 Spoilers and despoilers both sought to accom- 
 plish something definite and final before the 
 fall of darkness, though Dukane and his com- 
 panions had most to fear from the added dan- 
 gers which it would bring and the protection it 
 would afford the rioters. 
 
 "Didn't you wire for the sheriff of this 
 county to come here?" Kendle, the cement man, 
 inquired thoughtfully. 
 
 "Yes, if he's coming, now would be a good 
 time for him to arrive." 
 
 "He'll probably take his time."
 
 THE BATTLE 335 
 
 At this point in the talk Enid Crofton who 
 had been filling the part of an unobtrusive ob- 
 server, suddenly led her pony on one side, 
 mounted and swung its head about until she 
 faced the men. 
 
 "What do you want with a sheriff when 
 father has a dozen cowboys over yonder?" 
 And she pointed her quirt in the direction of 
 the ranch-house. 
 
 "The difference is this, Miss Crofton," Sat- 
 terfield explained with a smile, "the cowboys 
 would do very well, but they represent mere 
 force; the sheriff represents constituted and 
 lawful authority." 
 
 "It seems to me that this is a time for force 
 instead of authority," she sniffed. "Look at 
 them ; how much attention would they pay to a 
 sheriff or any other officer?" 
 
 Truly, to judge by the mob's new course 
 this was a question which answered itself. 
 They were now running towards that part of 
 the camp which comprised the power-plant, 
 the mixer and the machinery for loading and 
 operating the aerial tramway. A few of the 
 hardier spirits repeated their rush upon the 
 doors of the power-plant, but when a stream of 
 boiling water again lashed out of a window at
 
 336 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 them directed by the vigilant engineer, they 
 swerved to one side and followed their compan- 
 ions. 
 
 They fell upon the mixer, wrestled with it, 
 beat it with rods of iron, but worked little dam- 
 age upon its frame. 
 
 "That's a tough nut to crack," Dukane 
 stated with a laugh, as he and the others 
 watched the assault, "and I ought to know, 
 having worked in its shadow." 
 
 Giving up the conquest of this the mob 
 swung eastward at a run. With a quick shout 
 they sprang at the first supporting tower of the 
 aerial tramway, wrapped a rope about its props 
 and with a tug pulled it down. Accomplish- 
 ment warmed their blood and fired their ardor. 
 They ran to the next tower and hurled it crash- 
 ing, and the next, and the next, working with 
 rapid, eager hands, until the whole aerial cable 
 lay in disorder upon the ground. 
 
 "The dam, the dam!" rose from their lips. 
 
 On the instant every man of them turned 
 running towards the spot where the low gray 
 bulwark of the partially completed dam lay in 
 the gorge between the cliffs. Corbetson, even 
 more than the men he led, experienced a fierce, 
 consuming desire to destroy the work on which 
 he had hoped to found a fortune, but which
 
 THE BATTLE 837 
 
 had served only to convict him of a crime. He 
 would wipe out his disgrace, he would destroy 
 the evidence of his false work, tumble it into 
 the river in dust and indistinguishable frag- 
 ments. Inspired therefore by such sentiments, 
 the prey of fear, shame, bitterness, he shouted 
 as loud as any, "The dam, the dam!" and waved 
 the men on. 
 
 For what now remained to him? All the 
 camp, all Silver Peak Basin, all the world, had 
 turned against him and sought to cause his 
 ruin; Satterfield and Leschelles and the doctor 
 had betrayed him at the word of a nondescript 
 young ruffian who had tricked him into crim- 
 inal admissions, his workmen would have 
 abandoned him had he not bribed them to a 
 questionable loyalty with liquor and a promise 
 of large wages, and finally the girl whom he 
 loved, for whom he had never dared to confess 
 his affection, had scorned him and openly 
 chosen and defended Hemple. Destruction 
 he would work: he would a last time walk 
 through the camp like an avenging angel, leav- 
 ing smoke and ruin in his rear, and then depart. 
 Money he had waiting for him on the outside, 
 money from the illegal business of the store, 
 that would serve. 
 
 With these desperate and evil thoughts
 
 338 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 flashing through his brain he led his men up the 
 road to the dam, uttered quick commands and 
 pointed at the spots where they should make 
 their attack. Responsive to his orders they 
 struggled up the rocks to the iron rods which 
 held the network of cables in place and sought 
 to rip them loose; but this was not easy, the 
 men's footholds were precarious, they had little 
 room to use their crow bars and the cables were 
 stout. Upon the dam itself men had scattered 
 out and were tearing off scaffolding, tipping 
 piles of lumber into the chasm and heaving tools 
 into the depths. But this did not touch the dam 
 itself. Corbetson stamped with impotent rage 
 at the men's stupidity, looked up at the moun- 
 tains where the sunset rays were beginning to 
 lie golden, down at the bed of the stream where 
 the water ran black through the spill-way, then 
 at the dam itself. A thought leaped into his 
 mind, he thrust his hand into his pocket where 
 he carried his keys. 
 
 "Stop this child's play, men," he shouted at 
 the top of his voice, so as to be heard over 
 the subdued noise of the canyon. "Dynamite 
 
 itr 
 
 Dynamite ! At that word men instinctively 
 caught their breaths; it conjured up a vision
 
 THE BATTLE 339 
 
 of destruction magnificent in proportion and 
 splendid in conception. Dynamite that were 
 something worth while indeed! Those who 
 heard the word hastened to the spot where Cor- 
 betson stood and those who were too far away 
 to understand, yet perceiving from the actions 
 of the others that something new was in the 
 wind, gave over the matter upon which they 
 chanced to be engaged and hurried to join their 
 companions. 
 
 To those who watched from the office this 
 sudden decision was significant. 
 
 "What's up now!" Leschelles exclaimed, who 
 was staring at them through the field-glasses. 
 
 "Oh, Jimmy, I wish this was over," whis- 
 pered Enid. "Somebody will yet be killed." 
 
 "I hope so and I want to do the killing if 
 Corbetson is to be the victim. But no! I'll 
 enjoy much better to see him going at a lock 
 step in prison and wearing an abbreviated hair 
 cut." 
 
 "How vindictive you are !" 
 
 "I certainly am. He's caused me a lot of 
 trouble." 
 
 "Perhaps he holds similar thoughts about 
 you." 
 
 This remark Jimmy did not deign to answer.
 
 340 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 He fixed his gaze upon the group of recalci- 
 trant workmen who surrounded Corbetson and 
 hid him from view. That he was making an 
 impassioned appeal was apparent, that they lis- 
 tened willingly was also obvious, and that 
 something fresh was about to happen was like- 
 wise easy to observe. The men pressed to- 
 gether in a close group ; over their heads, high 
 up on the south rim of the canyon, were scores 
 of workmen from the other two camps, who 
 had moved along the ridge until they came to 
 the lip of the precipice, whence they could be- 
 hold all that might pass on the dam below them. 
 Jimmy looked away from the belligerents 
 and over the camp. In the power-house the 
 engineer and fireman leaned out of the win- 
 dows, following proceedings and holding them- 
 selves ready for any further attack; the engi- 
 neer picked his teeth calmly as though flushing 
 men with boiling water was an every day oc- 
 currence. What was left of the two bunk- 
 houses had sunk into two beds of glowing 
 ashes, from which smoke still rose and passed 
 away upon the wind. Over the ground the 
 doctor moved, engrossed in his professional 
 business of examining wounded men to deter- 
 mine the extent of their injuries.
 
 THE BATTLE 
 
 "Here they come!" Leschelles announced, as 
 Dukane once more directed his gaze towards 
 the dam. 
 
 "What are they going to do?" Enid asked 
 him, anxiously. 
 
 He shook his head, he did not know. No 
 more did the others of the party know what 
 idea had taken possession of the mob's mind. 
 At a run the whole party poured down the 
 road which had been blasted out of the rock- 
 wall and which descended at a gradual incline 
 to the camp. Memory of another day came 
 vividly to Dukane's thought as he watched the 
 crowd advance with Corbetson a dozen paces in 
 the lead, memory of the noon when he had raced 
 across the river, sped up the opposite road and 
 pulled Enid from her horse and to safety one 
 instant before the firing of the blast. And 
 now what a change ! Who could have foretold ; 
 who imagined, all that had occurred in the in- 
 terim, so swiftly and so momentously! He, 
 James A. Dukane, Jr., who had come into 
 camp a disreputable vagabond, was now in 
 command, while Corbetson who had scorned 
 him that day had fallen from his high seat and 
 now ground his teeth in disgrace. 
 
 At the bottom of the incline the mob turned
 
 34-2 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 and headed without pause for the powder 
 house, isolated from the other buildings and 
 half sunk in the earth. 
 
 "They're going to blow up the dam, by the 
 Almighty!" Leschelles exclaimed, in a loud 
 voice. 
 
 Dukane looked about him, licking his lips 
 like an angry wildcat. He knit his brows, 
 waiting. At that instant there sounded from 
 far up the road by the Crofton ranch-house, 
 the faint long-drawn musical note of an auto- 
 mobile siren. But the watchers heard it with- 
 out understanding, without attention. 
 
 The mob reached the door of the powder- 
 house, crowded about it. Evidently the men 
 hampered Corbetson with the key, for he waved 
 them back until he stood free and alone. He 
 twisted the key in the lock, then flung up a 
 hand in triumph, turning to his followers. 
 
 A streak of flame suddenly spat from the 
 store- window, Corbetson's hand sank, clutched 
 at his breast. Then slowly he pitched forward 
 and lay on his face.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A NEW REGIME 
 
 A T this sudden and wholly unexpected visi- 
 ^* > tation of death upon their leader, the mob 
 halted dumbfounded in its raid. All thought 
 of dynamite, of blowing up the dam, of finish- 
 ing the destruction of the camp, was erased 
 from their minds by the sight of their stricken 
 captain : and as he was laid low in his moment 
 of triumph, so their passions ceased, their wild 
 formless hatred evaporated and they stood 
 stupid, bewildered, not knowing what to do or 
 where to turn. Then those in the rear began 
 silently and unobtrusively to withdraw, to set 
 out skirting the ridge on their way to Tunnel- 
 town; others glancing about perceived the 
 movement ; and presently as by a miracle where 
 there had been a roaring, tumultuous crowd, 
 there remained but the lifeless corpse of the 
 former chief. 
 
 Those before the office could scarcely credit 
 their eyes, so utterly unexpected and extraor- 
 
 343
 
 344 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 dinary were the men's panic and retreat. 
 They watched in perplexed astonishment the 
 followers of the dead man stream southward, 
 quickening their pace as they advanced, as they 
 passed further away, appearing to experience 
 a growing dread of what had happened, a sud- 
 den horrified realization. 
 
 "And all that is left of them is Lantry there 
 in the office and the drunken sleepers," Kendle 
 stated. 
 
 Everyone breathed relief; it was as if a 
 weight had been flung off their shoulders, a 
 threatening sword removed from above their 
 heads. 
 
 "But who fired that shot?" Leschelles ex- 
 claimed, remembering the strange mysterious- 
 ness of it. 
 
 "I did." 
 
 Hop Spencer spoke the words; he had 
 joined the group unnoticed, and now stood gaz- 
 ing with gloomy brow at the figure before the 
 powder-house door. 
 
 Dukane laid a hand on his shoulder. "You 
 did well," said he. "You obeyed orders like 
 a soldier and you saved we know not 
 what greater loss of property and life. If 
 those ruffians had once secured the dynamite
 
 A NEW REGIME 345 
 
 the whole basin would have been at their 
 mercy." 
 
 "I fired as you told me," Hop said. "I 
 didn't want to kill him but I kind of felt I had 
 to when I saw he had unlocked the door. And 
 I knew I wouldn't miss I had killed squirrels 
 farther away than that." 
 
 "Think no more of it, or rather think proudly 
 of it." 
 
 A new and utterly surprising occurrence 
 took place, one which was a fitting and dra- 
 matic close to the day. Down the road that 
 followed the river to the camp a large high- 
 powered motor car rushed into sight, swung up 
 the slope to the office and came to a quick halt. 
 In the front seat the chauffeur sat alone, in the 
 tonneau were two gentlemen, dust-covered and 
 be-goggled. They pulled off their glasses, 
 stepped forth when the driver sprang down 
 and opened the door, then surveyed the spec- 
 tators. 
 
 "Where is Corbetson?" one asked briskly, a 
 slender gentleman. "Hello, is that Satter- 
 field! Where's the chief?" 
 
 Satterfield pointed at the powder-house, 
 whither several persons were hurrying. 
 
 "He is dead there he lies."
 
 346 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Dead! Good heavens!" 
 
 "You've just missed seeing a small war, Mr. 
 Agnew." 
 
 The other gentleman, a solid, heavy-boned 
 man, who stood back listening, now advanced 
 and thrust a telegram into the engineer's 
 hands. 
 
 "What does this mean? Where is my son, 
 if it is my son who sent it?" 
 
 Satterfield cast a glance about him, but at 
 that instant a subdued voice said : 
 
 "Here I am." 
 
 "Come here," the new arrival ordered. 
 
 There was sternness in his voice, a hint of 
 thunder, and it was therefore not without trepi- 
 dation that the youth emerged from behind the 
 forms of the other men where he had instinc- 
 tively sought shelter when he perceived the 
 identity of the passengers of the motor car. 
 For the first time in his life he felt abashed, felt 
 his earlier assurance melt from him and saw 
 his parent looming before him hugely. Any 
 man, he suddenly acknowledged, who could be 
 master of not only one project but a dozen like 
 Silver Peak Reservoir Dam, who could at his 
 pleasure make men move individually and in 
 the mass to his will, was a man to be respected
 
 A NEW REGIME 347 
 
 and feared. He saw that Dukane senior was 
 infinitely greater a man than Dukane junior. 
 
 "Come here," his parent ordered, and 
 pointed a finger at a spot directly in front of 
 him. 
 
 Jimmy moved to that spot. 
 
 "Give an account of yourself. What have 
 you been doing?" 
 
 "I've been killing people," the youth re- 
 sponded, modestly. 
 
 "I don't in the least doubt it." 
 
 Jimmy made no reply. This was an alto- 
 gether different reception from what he had 
 planned and the blood rose hotly in his cheeks 
 when he remembered the rest of the group who 
 were witnesses of his humiliation. And Enid 
 was present ! He gripped his palms and com- 
 pressed his lips and looked his father belliger- 
 ently in the face. 
 
 "Well, you look half-murdered yourself," 
 was the elder's unsympathetic comment, after 
 inspecting his son's bandaged eye and battered 
 face. "Now, explain this telegram." 
 
 "It's correct, sir; I'm in charge." 
 
 "By what authority?" 
 
 Jimmy gazed at the ground. This was the 
 one question which he had foreseen hanging at
 
 34-8 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 a distance like a black cloud and now it was 
 upon him. 
 
 "By the authority of of eminent domain," 
 he replied, with a heaven-born inspiration. 
 
 Satterfield never showed himself more a 
 friend than at that moment. He had seen the 
 younger Dukane's embarrassment, distress and 
 shame; he knew that the boy found it more 
 difficult to inform his father of what he had 
 done and what he sought to do than he would 
 have found it to relate to any other person; 
 and his own chivalrous nature was stirred to 
 speak. Thereupon he drew Jimmy on one side 
 and addressed the newcomers. 
 
 "Gentlemen, you have arrived at the very 
 instant we had succeeded in re-establishing or- 
 der in the camp. The events which terminated 
 in Mr. Corbetson's death have been important 
 and considerable; and the part that your son 
 has played in them has been not only conspicu- 
 ous but extremely brave. If you will come 
 into the office and the rest of you also I'll 
 give an account of what happened as I know 
 it." 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 For half an hour Mr. Dukane and his com- 
 panion, the manager of the San Francisco
 
 A NEW REGIME 349 
 
 branch, listened without comment to the story 
 of Corbetson's perfidy and the youth's single- 
 handed, uphill investigation. To this the doc- 
 tor, Leschelles, Kendle and the reporter con- 
 tributed. 
 
 "And who is this young lady?" Mr. Dukane 
 at last inquired. 
 
 Jimmy quickly led Enid forward. "I am 
 pleased to make you acquainted with her, for 
 in the first place she saved my life, and has 
 consented to marry me in the second and I 
 love her madly, dad." 
 
 "You've not yet mentioned her name." 
 
 "Enid Crofton and there's no one in the 
 world like her." 
 
 "He's quite incorrigible, sir," she smiled. 
 
 The elder Dukane looked at his son, then at 
 the girl and once more at his son. This was 
 not the youth who had flitted about Xew York 
 spending money in idle pleasure; but his heart 
 warmed to this new and strange son, a son 
 whose hands were brown and calloused, whose 
 clothes were a workman's, whose face showed 
 the marks of struggle, who had suddenly blos- 
 somed forth under labor and blows into a man, 
 who indeed had at last saved the name of Du- 
 kane and Company from dishonor.
 
 350 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "And you, Miss Crofton, is it true that 
 you've consented to marry this good-for-noth- 
 ing, disreputable brawler?" he asked. 
 
 Enid's eyes flashed. 
 
 "How dare you say that!" she cried. "And 
 of your own son! He has acted nobly and I 
 love him, loved him long before I knew what 
 his real name was. He's not disreputable and 
 he's not a brawler!" 
 
 "Your vindication is sufficient," he answered, 
 with twinkling eyes. "I retract my statement. 
 Come with me, James." Then to the others. 
 "I'll ask you to remain here a little while." 
 And he led the boy forth into the air, now 
 golden with evening. Slipping his arm into 
 his son's, he said, "Tell me all about it, Jimmy." 
 
 As they walked through the camp the youth 
 felt his restraint melt away, felt himself drawn 
 by cords of affection and opened his heart to 
 his father. He related his adventure in Mel- 
 ton the morning following his arrival in that 
 town, how he had been robbed, beaten and 
 thrown out of the hotel, how he had nearly 
 starved, how he had been stirred to curiosity by 
 the peculiar actions of the station-master in han- 
 dling the cement and how at last He had been 
 pummeled by Miller into an unwilling agree-
 
 A NEW REGIME 351 
 
 ment to work. Followed an account of his 
 painful toil at the mixing machine and on the 
 wagons, of his suspicions of Corbetson, of his 
 discoveries in the store and of his final struggle 
 with the dishonest chief. 
 
 He pointed out the smouldering ashes of the 
 bunk-houses ; they strolled to the mixer where 
 Jimmy narrated how Callahan had lost his arm; 
 and then they passed to the dam. Each inci- 
 dent was painted in glowing colors by Dukane 
 junior's awakened imagination; and the youth's 
 father heard and questioned and smiled to him- 
 self. 
 
 When they stood on the dam overlooking the 
 rushing water and considered the infamous 
 work wrought under the dead chief's hand, Du- 
 kane senior experienced a profound emotion; 
 the reputation which he had built up by a life- 
 time of work, a reputation for honest, careful 
 substantial work, had been imperiled by one 
 crafty man and had in the end been saved by 
 his own son, his own flesh and blood. 
 
 "I've much to thank you for, my boy," he 
 said, in an agitated voice, "I can never repay 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you, can!" 
 
 "Name the way."
 
 352 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "Let me build it; give me Satterfield and the 
 others to help and let me build it right. I don't 
 know much about cement, but I'm learning. 
 When I'm done, it'll be a dam to be proud of." 
 
 Half a minute Dukane senior considered be- 
 fore replying : 
 
 "Take it, you've earned the right." 
 
 Down the long sloping road blasted out of 
 the canyon wall they went on their return to 
 the office. Jimmy pointed across to the oppo- 
 site side, relating how he had run thither to 
 rescue Enid Crofton, receiving a scolding for 
 it and losing his heart. 
 
 The camp had assumed once more an air of 
 tranquillity; men moved about freely and at 
 peace, the figure of the dead chief had been 
 borne away, smoke no longer rose from the 
 ashes of the burnt bunk-houses and the cooks 
 were busily engaged preparing supper for the 
 loyal workmen. Over all the valley the ame- 
 thyst light was slowly deepening to purple. 
 The subdued music of the river floated upon 
 the air, while beneath it ran the deeper, muffled 
 diapason of the echoing canyon. 
 
 "That always made me think of you, dad," 
 Dukane junior said, pointing at Silver Peak. 
 
 The mountain rose silent, sufficient unto
 
 A NEW REGIME 353 
 
 itself, solid and massive. The white crest 
 shone in the last rays of the sun which touched 
 it, marked in strong contrast to the lower crags 
 and the black forest-clad flanks. An air of 
 dominating calm rested upon it and its bulk 
 commanding the surrounding hills and moun- 
 tains, over-shadowing the Basin, exercised a 
 powerful and benign influence. After the 
 events of the day and week, after the long pe- 
 riod of distrust, suspicion, contempt and hatred 
 felt for Corbetson, after the dangers escaped 
 and the hardships endured it seemed to extend 
 a benediction. As Jimmy gazed at it there 
 came into his heart a sudden rush of affection, 
 of good cheer, of comfort, happiness, and joy 
 for the world at large. The obstacles that had 
 blocked his path here were swept away, the pas- 
 sions that had pressed and flowed about his 
 person in angry currents were quieted ; and was 
 it not after all the spot where he had gained 
 his manhood, won his battle and found his 
 love? 
 
 "Now, what of this young lady?" Dukane 
 senior inquired. 
 
 That was the magic word that unlocked the 
 fountain. Jimmy poured forth a panegyric 
 of Enid's beauty, courage and virtues ; he gave
 
 354. THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 an account of their growing friendship and 
 love, with the final denouement of her rescue 
 when he was in the hands of Lantry and his 
 men on top of the ridge. 
 
 "You will marry her then?" the father asked, 
 smiling. 
 
 "This minute, if she would agree." 
 
 "I imagine it would be necessary to obtain 
 her consent. She seems a young lady with a 
 mind of her own." 
 
 "Of course, I wouldn't marry any other 
 kind." 
 
 "And after you're married, what are your 
 plans to support her?" 
 
 Jimmy looked at his parent out of the corner 
 of his eye. 
 
 "When I've finished with the dam, I'll have 
 to go to work as a day-laborer again, I im- 
 agine, unless Dukane and Company finds my 
 services so valuable it can't afford to lose 
 them." 
 
 His father laughed outright. 
 
 "We'll try and find something to employ you 
 at," he assured his son. "What about this 
 Lantry? He must be prosecuted of course." 
 
 "Certainly. He is an untamed brute. 
 We'll run down Corbetson's affairs, see just
 
 A NEW REGIME 355 
 
 how much he robbed the company of and try 
 to recover as much of his spoils as possible. 
 Satterfield is the real engineer of the camp 
 he'll look after the actual building. I want to 
 put Hop Spencer in charge of the store, for he's 
 stuck by me like a true friend and he's a crip- 
 ple. I'd like to send the station-agent at Mel- 
 ton to prison for his share in Corbetson's plot, 
 though I don't believe he profited by it to any 
 great extent, but for the sake of his wife who 
 fed me when I was starving and treated me 
 like a human being when everyone else was 
 giving me kicks, I'll let him go." Then with 
 a sudden thought, Jimmy stopped and ex- 
 claimed. "How did it happen you arrived so 
 soon?" 
 
 "We were on our way here in a special train 
 when your telegram as well as a digest of the 
 newspaper account was wired to us from San 
 Francisco," Dukane senior explained. "I had 
 taken up the search for you in person and 
 since at Melton you vanished, at Melton I de- 
 cided to begin. We were on our way here 
 when this news that something unusual was 
 taking place quickened us. A telegram from 
 you after weeks of silence seemed unbelievable." 
 
 "You must stay a day or two and become ac-
 
 356 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 quainted with Enid and her father, with Sat- 
 terfield and Leschelles and the doctor they're 
 fine, every one of them and honest as daylight. 
 And then there are Callahan and Casey and 
 Miller and Hop Spencer, you ought to know 
 them, for they're square and real men even if 
 they do work for day wages." 
 
 Mr. Dukane's eyes twinkled. "I'll be glad 
 to meet them. Perhaps they'll be able to throw 
 side-lights on your adventures here. Miller, 
 for instance, who brought you into camp." 
 
 In front of the office they joined the others 
 who waited. A plan had already been made 
 by Enid Crofton whereby the newcomers were 
 to be guests at the ranch-house so long as they 
 remained in Silver Peak Basin. 
 
 "I jump at the chance, for I want to become 
 better acquainted with my daughter-to-be," he 
 said taking and pressing her hand. 
 
 Enid regarded him a full minute before 
 speaking. 
 
 "Why, you're not a terrible man at all!" she 
 cried. 
 
 "Of course not, I'm yery ordinary," he 
 smiled, at this naivete. 
 
 "But Jimmy pictured you as heartless." 
 
 "Jimmy and I both had, I learn, a mistaken
 
 A NEW REGIME 357 
 
 notion about each other. And now let us 
 
 go." 
 
 Away from the office the motor car circled, 
 amid the waved adieus of the men who re- 
 mained, and spun swiftly up the road to the 
 Crofton ranch. 
 
 "Your son, sir, looked nothing like you when 
 first I saw him riding into camp on a freight 
 wagon," Enid stated to Mr. Dukane. 
 
 "The world had used me pretty rough," the 
 youth said. "But I wouldn't have missed it, 
 that and the rest which has happened, for a mil- 
 lion dollars." And he gave Enid's hand a 
 little squeeze. 
 
 That evening after supper while Mr. Crof- 
 ton entertained his guests upon the broad ver- 
 anda the pair of lovers strolled across the lawn 
 to where the brook, hidden by the gloom of the 
 bordering trees, murmured over its bed of 
 stones on its way to join the river. High in 
 the sky the stars shone bright and large, for the 
 moon was not yet risen. In the north the dark, 
 vague outline of Silver Peak stood forth like a 
 sentinel, a silvery sheen disclosing its snow-clad 
 head. Over all the valley was silence, save for 
 the murmurous streams, and peace.
 
 358 THE INCORRIGIBLE DUKANE 
 
 "How strange it all seems now!" Enid said. 
 "After the fight on the ridge up yonder last 
 night, after all the uncertainty and suspense 
 and strife of to-day, how quiet ! You have won 
 your victory, sweetheart, and you were right, 
 always right, in your suspicions, in your aims, 
 in your endeavors." 
 
 Dukane caught her within his arms and 
 strove to distinguish her face and see her eyes. 
 
 "Best of all, I've won you. We shall live 
 here when we're married until the dam is fin- 
 ished, but though we may go away, our love 
 shall be always fresh and enduring." 
 
 "And sometimes we'll come back?" 
 
 "Sometimes, yes. We'll stand on the ridge 
 up there and look down upon the great lake of 
 water which the dam holds and recall all that 
 took place on this spot." 
 
 She crept closer within his arms. 
 
 "I shall always love you best as you used to 
 be, tired and ragged and battered." 
 
 The youth sighed. 
 
 "Jimmy Hemple is gone forever; I wonder 
 if his ghost will sometimes haunt the lake ? But 
 Jimmy Dukane will love you far better than 
 Hemple ever could."
 
 A NEW REGIME 359 
 
 And the brook listening to his words, whis- 
 pered them to itself as it slipped away to the 
 river, these words and others of love and loy- 
 alty and devotion. 
 
 THE END
 
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