THE MAN HIGHER UP A story of the Fight , which is Life and the Force, which is Love By HENRY RUSSELL MILLER Wi'th Illustrations by M. LEONE BRACKER COPYRIGHT 1910 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY CONTENTS BOOK ONE IRON ORE Chpter Page I KNIGHT ERRANT i II BOB LAYS HOLD OF THE WORLD ... 10 III HE ENTERS A NEW FIELD .... 18 IV THE ROAD TO POWER . 32 V A GIRL AND A DECISION . 40 VI THE POLITICIAN 47 BOOK TWO IN THE MOULD I FIVE YEARS LATER 57 II A NEW ACQUAINTANCE 64 III CHRISTMAS SCENES 77 IV GROWTH IN GRACE 93 V AN ALLIANCE REJECTED .... 102 VI POLITICS 115 VII EAVESDROPPING ; LIGHT TO THE BLIND . 132 VIII THE SILVER TONGUE 143 IX THE LADY OF DREAMS ..... 157 X DISCONTENT 166 XI THE GAUNTLET 182 XII SANGER'S OFFER 202 XIII TEMPTATIONS 216 XIV THE FORCE 228 XV THE ALLIANCE 246 XVI THE FORCE AT WORK 262 XVII STRATAGEMS 274 XVIII THE BREACH 291 XIX THE POSEUR 305 XX SANGER'S CARD 317 2137407 ' CONTENTS BOOK THREE THE MOULDER : VALLEY OF THE SHADOW II THE FORCE WHICH is LOVE Chape * r Page THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW ... 329 344 III ATONEMENT ._ IV THE PRODIGAL 37I V THE FALLING OF THE MANTLE . 379 VI THE BEGINNING OF THE END .... 387 VII THE TRIUMPH OF THE FORCE , 394 THE MAN HIGHER UP BOOK ONE IRON ORE THE MAN HIGHER UP CHAPTER I KNIGHT ERRANT IN the heart of the foot-hills, in a basin where two rivers meet to form a mighty third, lies the Steel City. It is not a beautiful city. It boasts its magnifi- cent residences, stone and brick castles of its many millionaires. Its citizens proudly point to its spacious parks, costly boulevards and stately public buildings. But withal they admit its lack of beauty, resting its claim to the world's consideration rather upon its wealth. For the Steel City has laid under tribute the treasures of nature to feed its furnaces, which in turn feed the industries of the world. From the river the fog rises, from a thousand huge stacks bituminous smoke belches ; and fog and smoke, mingling, form a perennial cloud that coats the city with grime and soot. The roar of its factories never ceases. To see the Steel City you must journey by night along its rivers, whose yellow, placid waters, reflecting the lights of a hundred steamers, seem a field of gold encrusted with diamonds, rubies and emeralds. Mile after mile, you pass by mills, mills, mills nothing but mills magnificent monuments to the inventive and adaptive genius of man. Thousands of black-faced, muscular Titans rush hither and thither, swift, meth- I 2 THE MAX HIGHER UP odical, earnest, single-purposed. But even this powerful army, levied from the world's strongest, is pigmy-like beside the marvelous mechanism, which works, seemingly, of its .own will, unerring, un- faltering, unceasing, irresistible. Rivers of molten metal flow beneath your gaze. Massive ingots of white- hot iron, beyond the strength of men to lift, swing easily on the cranes from cast to car. Fiery serpents of steel writhe and plunge as though obsessed by the spirit of hell that broods over the scene, but helpless in a clutch that never relaxes. An awful roar shakes the earth to its foundations. An awful glare blinds the unaccustomed eye. These are the great steel mills, grinding, crashing, a miracle of power, the smithy of the world. This is the Steel City. He was standing at the window in one of the city's bleakest tenements, a ragged, dirty-faced boy. In the years he remembered of his ten he had known no other surroundings. Of what went before, he knew was to know nothing. From without came the sound of shuffling, uncertain footsteps. He turned in an atti- tude of sullen expectancy. "If he licks me again, I'll run away," he muttered. The faded drudge who shared the room with him nod- ded hopelessly. The door opened and the relic of what had once been a man entered. "My felish'tashuns, ghentle par'- ner 'f my jhoysh an' shorrowsh," he addressed the woman in drunken irony. " Wha've y' got t' eat ?" "Nothing." "An' why not, faithful Penel'pe? I'll have you know I'm hungry. By God! woman, I'm hungry. Why not?" KNIGHT ERRANT 3 "No money," answered the woman, listlessly, hope- lessly. "No money? That remin'sh me. Where'sh that Bob. O, there y'are, y' little devil. You got 'ny money ?" "How'd I get any money?" demanded the boy sul- lenly. "How'd you get shome money? Lish'n t' that, woman," the man demanded oracularly. "Thish li'l brat, thish homelesh outcast whom I 'dopted in the shar'ty 'f my heart thish objec' 'f the philanthr'py which 'sh the sherished relic of th' daysh when I wash a ghentleman an' wore purple an' fine linen thish un- grateful sherpen' whom I took int' my bosh'm an' warmed an' clothed an' fed daresh to ask, 'How'd I get 'ny money?' Thush he repaysh me f'r my hosh- p'tal'ty, boun'lesh," he waved his arm in all the mag- nificence of drunken oratory, "boun'lesh as the vasthy deep. Scum of th' earth offal I don' care how y' get th' money. Beg it shteal it it'sh all one t' me." "Ain't a beggar. Ain't a thief," said the boy dog- gedly. "Meaning that I'm a beggar an' a thief? I'll have you know, you brat, that y' are addreshin' a ghen- tl'm'n, a ghentl'm'n 'f misfortune." In a sudden, unexpected movement, the drunken man lurched toward the boy and with one hand seized him by the collar, with the other he picked up a stout stick. While the woman looked on with the dull indifference of one who has seen so much evil and cruelty that all sensibility is deadened, he belabored the boy cruelly, frenziedly. For a time Bob submitted to the beating in a stoic silence horrible in such a mite 4 THE MAN HIGHER UP of humanity, devoting his energies to the unsuccessful effort to dodge the descending stick, until a blow of unusual force fell upon his shoulder. Then his dirty face was distorted with pain and hate. His clenched lips parted in the shrill scream of a wounded tiger cub. Quick as a thought, he seized the hand that grasped the stick and buried his teeth in the flesh until they met the bone. Uttering a howl, the drunken brute dropped to the floor, rolling in agony. The boy wasted no time in gloating over the downfall of his assailant, but, seiz- ing a ragged cap, darted through the door. On the landing he paused for an instant in his flight and, with the swift certainty of one who has foreseen the event and planned for it, pulled up a loose board in the corner and drew out the sum total of his worldly wealth a single dime. Then his flight was resumed. He did not cease running until the tumble-down ten- ement district was far behind him. Then he set his face toward the down-town business section of the city. A portly gentleman of good-natured aspect came to- ward him. The boy boldly accosted him. "Say, mister, where can I buy some papers ?" "I've no money for you," answered the gentleman impatiently. "Don't want any money. Got all I want," the boy said sturdily. The gentleman laughed. "That's more than I have, my youthful Croesus. Press office. Fifth Avenue, three blocks down." And the boy trudged bravely on his way through the crowded thoroughfare, unmindful of smarting shoul- ders, his fortune grasped tightly in his fist. KNIGHT ERRANT 5 The statement that his fortune was carried in his fist is true in two senses of the word. For when he had expended his treasure in copies of that organ of pub- licity known as the Press, with the instinct of genius he sought the most crowded corner of the city's busiest avenue. Here an unforeseen obstacle met our young knight errant. Hardly had he begun to cry his wares, with a boldness of mien born not of experience but of the spirit within him, when another "newsie," who had preempted the corner, swaggered up to him and fiercely challenged : "Say, kid, wotcher doin' here?" "Sellin' papers," said our young friend. "Not much, yer don't, Dis is my stan'. Take a sneak, see!" "Aw, go to hell !" And then the fight began. The assailant was the older and bigger, but this was a style of argument with which Bob was familiar. In his hard little body was packed the beginning of that great strength which later won him fame, so that he was a match for his bigger antagonist, sending as good as he received. He dealt his blows lustily and malic- iously, greatly to the delight of the crowd that gathered to observe the hostilities. Not the least interested was the burly, red- faced limb of the law who controlled the traffic at that corner. "My money on the little fellow," laughed a youth of apparent sporting proclivities. "Shure," said the policeman, "an' ye'll be findin' no takers, I'm thinkin'." "Officer," a woman cried indignantly, while she stared at the little fighters, fascinated, "you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Pull them apart at once." 6 THE MAX HIGHER UP "O, lave thim alone, ma'am," responded the guard- ian of the public peace. "It'll be doin' thim good." "Lord!" shouted the sport, "see that uppercut. I win. The little one has him down." The sport spoke truly. The combatants were pros- trate in the gutter, Bob on top and -pommeling his antagonist's features with an earnestness of purpose that was inspiring. At this crisis the policeman regret- fully recalled himself to duty. "That's enough, me son," he declared, pulling them apart. " 'Tain't enough," the victor rebelliously answered, a thin ribbon of blood streaming from his nose, the light of battle in his eye. " 'Tain't enough till he says I can sell papers here." "Ain't he th' little divil !" the policeman ejaculated admiringly. "Ye stay all right, kid. Ye're th' boss now. Show's over, frinds. Move on." And so, while his late antagonist slunk, sniffling, away to hide his disgrace, Bob McAdoo stayed, master of the field and convert to the doctrine of the great American specialty Monopoly. When darkness fell that evening the original dime's investment and a third replenishment were sold out; and Bob, with a pocket full of pennies, faced the responsibilities of wealth. When the policeman entered his home that night and faced his faithful spouse, it was with a quaking spirit. "Well, now," his lady exclaimed sarcastically, "well, now, Pathrick Flinn, an' what is this angel av niarcy ye do be bringin' home th' night ?" "Shure, Norah," Patrick apologized, " 'tis the most KNIGHT ERRANT 7 illigint little gamecock ye iver saw. He came to me corrner this afthernoon, a-sellin' papers. Th' newsie on th' corrner, a big gossoon what's always bullyin' th' little fellows, thried fur to chase him away. An' what did me little bantam do but go afther that big bully like me sainted namesake afther th' snakes in th' ould counthry. An' he wiped th' gutther clane wid him. Shure, 'twas th' most buchus thing ye cud imagine, barrin' bein' in a sim'lar shindy yersilf. An* whin I was fur lavin' me corrner, the laad come up to me an' says, 'Say, mister, where'll I be findin' a place to slape th' night ?' 'Over beyant be th' river, there's a lot av boxes,' says I. 'Aw, t'ell wid boxes,' says he, 'it's a bed I'm wantin'.' 'An' what'll th' likes av ye be doin' wid a bed?' says I. 'Slapin', av coorse', says he. 'I nivir slipt in a bed, but I got lots av money now an' I'm wantin' a bed f'r th' night.' 'How ould arre ye?* I asks. 'Ten years/ says he. 'An' where have ye been livin'?' 'Nowhere;' says he. 'Who's yer payrints?' 'Ain't got any,' says he. 'Who've ye been livin' wid?' 'Nobody,' says he. 'Shure, ye're a quare custhomer/ says I. 'An' who owns ye?' 'I own mesilf,' says he. 'Thin come home along av me th' night,' says I. An* here he is. "An' now," Patrick concluded sadly, "he must be gom', f'r there's no room f'r him here." "Think shame to yersilf, Pathrick Flinn," Norah cried hotly, "to be thinkin' av sendin' a poor, mother- liss little spalpane like him out into the cold worruld !" While Patrick chuckled within himself over the suc- cess of his diplomacy, Norah fell to her knees and drew the boy to her ample bosom. At which unaccustomed 8 THE MAN HIGHER UP tenderness, the frozen springs of his childish heart were melted and Bob burst into a torrent of sobs. "Husha, husha, me de arr," crooned Norah. "There's no nade to be cryin'. Shure, ye arren't to be lift alone, nivirmore, nivirmore." Bob drew back from her embrace and, stamping his feet, cried : "I'll never cry again not another dam' time!" "Whisht ! ye little spalpane !" Norah laughed. "Don't ye be swearin'." "Ain't he th' little divil !" Patrick slapped his thighs delightedly. "Bob, shake hands wid Molly and Kath- leen an' make yersilf at home." Bob obeyed. Some hours later, Patrick, bearing a candle and ac- companied by Norah, crept up-stairs softly to the spare bedroom where Bob, face downward, reposed in uneasy slumber and in a bed. Norah sank to her knees by the bedside. "Th' poor, poor la-ad!" she murmured, laying her hand gently on his shoulder. Bob groaned and in his sleep shrank from the touch. The movement displaced the nightgown Kathleen's and disclosed a black and blue shoulder. "Th' little spalpane !" Norah whispered tenderly. "It's not from fightin', I warrint ye," Patrick whis- pered. "It's on his back." "Don't you hit me again, Jim Thompson," Bob screamed in his dreams. "When I'm big, I'll kick hell out of you." "Th' little divil!" Patrick whispered compassion- ately. "He's like Paddy 'ud 'a' been," sobbed Norah. KNIGHT ERRAXT 9 "Arrah, Norah, darlint, ye do be makin' a fool av yersilf over th' la-ad that was nivir borrn." Paddy was the boy for whom the Flinns' hearts had always longed, but who never came. CHAPTER II BOB LAYS HOLD OF THE WORLD WITH deep satisfaction of soul Bob opened his eyes on a new day. "I'll stay here," he said aloud. And stay he did, Bob, in the arrogance of his boy- ish egotism, taking his welcome for granted, while to the Flinns, big-hearted and instinctively hospitable, it never occurred to wonder at the boy's presumption. The arrangement thus tacitly established proved a happy one. Bob found in the wholesome, homely atmosphere of the policeman's family life a partial corrective for the dwarfing influence of the tenement. As for Patrick and his wife, had they been told which they never were that they were exercising an unusual virtue in thus adopting the little vagrant, they would have been astounded, such pride did they take in Bob from the beginning. And the non-appearance of little Paddy ceased to trouble their honest hearts. So it was that when Policeman Flinn set out that noon to his duties, Bob accompanied him, to revisit yesterday's battle-field where henceforth, by right of conquest and Patrick's protection, he was to reign su- preme. And when the day's work was done, together they returned home to "Irishtown." A few days later their bonds were finally riveted. 10 BOB LAYS HOLD OF THE WORLD i r It was Saturday night, and the family of Flinn was gathered in the kitchen, which was also the living-room. The master of this household, reclining in the one big arm-chair, was seeking the ministrations of my lady Nicotine, who, in Patrick's case, was a very strong lady indeed. Norah's head was bent abstractedly over a basket of sewing no fine lady's embroidery, but the homelier task and no mean one of darning her lord's socks. Over the table in the corner Bob counted the earnings of the week. To this task the assistance of Molly and Kathleen was needed, since, alas! Bob's notions of arithmetical values after the sum of ten was reached were hopelessly vague. "Three dollars and fifty-three cents," Kathleen an- nounced proudly. " 'Tis th' wealth av th' Injies," gibed Patrick. "I s'pose now, Bob, ye'll be lavin' yer frinds f'r th' mil- yunaires av th' East End, ye' re so rich. An' what'll ye be doin' wid so much money? Belike, ye'll set up wid a bank here in Irishtown. 'Bob McAdoo, Banker' it has th' fine, large sound to it. Or betther still, ye'll kape a saloon. 'Twould be a fine investmint, that last ; Irishtown has a snakin' thirrust f'r the crather." "He'll be layin' aside a bit av it, a dime or a quarther mebby, f'r th' Sisters whin they come, won't ye, Bob ?" Norah suggested piously. But Bob had planned other uses for his money than either speculation or charity. He laid to one side the fifty-three cents and gathered together the three dol- lars, which he carried over to Norah and dropped, jing- ling, into her capacious lap. "An' what's this for?" "Take it," said Bob. 12 THE MAN HIGHER UP "Ye mane kape it f r ye?" "No, keep it fer yourself." "An' why should I kape it ?" demanded Norah. "To pay fer me bed an' grub." "Away wid ye, ye little rapscallion! Kape yer money, ye'll be nadin' it f r clothes an' th' like. Ye can stay here without payin' yer way, an' welcome." "But that's char'ty ain't it?" Bob demanded di- rectly. "Well, yes sometimes," Norah returned slowly, embarrassed by the straightforward question. "But not in this case, whin it's frinds is givin' to ye." "Ain't goin' to be a char'ty boy," Bob insisted. "Char'ty boys gits licked." With a sudden warm gesture, Norah caught the boy to her. "Shure," she exclaimed compassionately, "ye poor la-ad, ye're not thinkin' we're goin' to bate ye, -are ye, Bobsy ?" "No," he answered promptly, "but I got to pay." "But why ?" Norah insisted. "I don't know," Bob returned slowly, with a puz- zled frown, "I ain't a cheap skate. You'll keep it, won't you?" "Not a cint av it," Norah declared flatly. Bob gave no answer to this declaration other than to collect the coins and place them in his pocket. Then he took his cap from its peg and, without a word or back- ward glance, made for the door. "Hould on there," Patrick cried, leaping after the fooy and seizing him. "Where arre ye goin'?" "I don't know," said Bob coolly. "Thin why arre ye lavin' this time av night?" "I'm goin' to find a place where they'll let me pay." BOB LAYS HOLD OF THE WORLD 13 For a moment Patrick stared helplessly at his wife, and then laughed delightedly. "Ain't he th' little divil t Hand th' money to th' ould woman. Ye stay, Bob." So Bob established his footing and won his second battle. When the money had been put away, Norah sat down once more and surveyed her husband suspi- ciously. His half-closed eyes were gazing with intense joy into the smoke-cloud, between the puffs loud chuck- les breaking from his lips, his big body shaking with merriment. "An' what be ye a-chucklin' at ?" she demanded. "Shure, Norah, darlint, at th' way th' little divil worruked roun' ye, gettin' his way an' all, an' makin' ye take th' money." "Humph !" his spouse sniffed tartly. "An' who arre ye to be laughin' at me? Shure, I nivir saw such an ould fool over annywan as ye are over th' la-ad. 'Tis Bob this an' Bob that, till he has ye wrapped roun' his little finger. An' him not a wake in th' house yet \ But," her tone changed to one of pride, "it's fine stuff th' little gintlemin's made of, with his pride an' all." "Ain't a gentleman," Bob flared up unexpectedly from his corner. "Jim Thompson's a gentleman an' he's nothin' but a drunk bum." "Who's Jim Thompson?" Patrick wanted to know. "Nobody," Bob answered sullenly. And no amount of cross-examination drew from him information as to his former condition or the identity of Jim Thomp- son. It was months before Bob's hatred and fear of Thompson subsided enough to allow him to tell the Flinns of his life in the tenement. Then Patrick i 4 THE MAX HIGHER UP sought to find the boy's erstwhile oppressor; but, luckily for Thompson, it was too late. The "gentle- man of misfortune" had disappeared and with him vanished the last possible source of information as to the boy's origin. Years passed and Bob grew in stature, if not in wisdom, viewing life from the lowly standpoint of the newsie, and being thoroughly spoiled by his friends. It was strange, the matter-of-fact fashion in which he tyrannized over Patrick and Xorah. Over Molly and Kathleen he lorded as absolutely, when he -condescended to share their games. He chose his com- panions to his own taste and not always wisely, even according to lax Irishtown standards. When not busied at his corner, he fought and bullied and led them in their games and in their mischief. He was the pride of the corner loafers by reason of his pro- pensity and talent for fighting, and they delighted to