Tom Jarnagan, Junior/Chapter 7
Chapter VII.
IN WHICH HE LAUGHS BEST WHO LAUGHS LAST.
"That was 'Jarnagan, Junior,' wasn't it?" said Manville to the judge, when they had driven past The Maples.
"Mr. Jarnagan's son, yes." Judge Sloan was opposed to flippancy in any guise.
Manville took his cue. "He's a bright little chap. Pity to spoil him in the passenger-business; it is an unscrupulous trade."
"It certainly seems to be," said the judge.
The ready assent was rather more than Manville had bargained for, so he tried to put in a defense.
"That is, in a general way. The temptations are pretty sharp. It's so much easier to tell people what they want to be told than to tell them the exact truth, you know."
But the judge was not in sympathy with any such view of things. "I don't agree with you," he said curtly. "Your business is much like any other: it is what you make it. And the exact truth is not only right: it is also expedient, in the long run."
Manville bit his lip and inwardly resented what he was pleased to call the judge's "high-and-mighty tone." Then he tried to say something which should be quite harmless and agreeable.
"I wonder if the boy will be at the meeting?"
"Inasmuch as he took the trouble to call it, and risked drowning in the lake to get back in time for it, I should suppose he would."
"I didn't know," rejoined the passenger-agent, with a final effort to be soothing and deferential. "The way the matter shapes up now, it would seem to be a waste of time, wouldn't it?"
They were nearing the school-house, and Judge Sloan spoke his mind freely:
"Don't take too much for granted, Mr. Manville. So far as I am concerned, you are both on trial. There is a very reprehensible question of trickery up between you; and our decision, so far as I may be able to influence it, will seek to vindicate the truth."
Manville turned his horse aside into a grove of oak saplings, and sprang out with the hitching-strap.
"You forget the present condition of Jarnagan's line, don't you, Judge?" he said.
"I forget nothing. If the lad can disprove your statements, that objection disappears. In that case, I can assure you there are not ten persons in the party who would go with you under any circumstances."
"But if he can't disprove them?"
"Then you have nothing to fear. If, as you intimated last night, the boy came here to solicit us merely to get the credit of selling the tickets over his line, knowing that the C. E. & W. could not transport us, then it will be the worse for him, and for his father's business-standing in this locality—that's all."
The judge crossed the road to the school-house, where the colonists were already filling the benches, leaving the passenger-agent in an unenviable frame of mind. An investigation was the last thing Manville desired, and he hitched and unhitched the horse several times while trying to make up his mind whether to advance or retreat. In the meantime Tom came up with his sister and Miss Haworth, and a glance at his youthful opponent decided Manville.
"By George! it won't do to be bluffed out by a boy this late in the day," he muttered, hitching the horse again. "I'd never hear the last of it as long as I live. If the old man 'll only hold that telegram back; or if Norty can manage to delay it—" He crossed the road and followed Tom into the school-house.
The little square room was well filled when Tom found seats near the door for his companions and himself. Judge Sloan and a committee, of which Aaron Simpson was the chairman, occupied seats on the teacher's platform; and when Manville entered he walked boldly up the aisle and took a vacant chair beside them.
Then the murmur of voices was hushed and the meeting grew formal while the judge's eyes sought and found Tom in his retirement near the door. Tom had a swift premonition of what was coming, and tried to make himself as small as possible. It was useless. The judge whispered to Simpson, and the farmer came down the aisle.
"Come on," he said, in a whisper which sounded like a shout in Tom's ears; "time's up."
"Oh, Mr. Simpson, I can't!" he said desperately, with fiery face and twitching nerves. "There isn't anything more for me to say. Please don't make me go!"
But Simpson was inexorable, and Kate added a needle-pointed taunt of exactly the right degree of penetration; and Tom was led away like a sheep to the slaughter. When he reached the platform and sat down facing the terrible battery of more than two hundred human eyes, the room spun around, and the kerosene lamps, brought in for the occasion by the neighbors, lurched and flickered in a most distressing manner. When the buzzing in his ears permitted him to hear ordinary sounds, the judge was speaking:
"Mr. Jeffrey, will you come and take a chair with us on the platform?"
A young man rose and went forward; and Kate turned to her companion to whisper:
"Who is he?"
"The editor of the 'Argus.' I wonder if—"
But at that moment the judge called the meeting to order and said:
"The object of this meeting, as you know, is the selection of the route over which our colony will go to Utah. The question has been thoroughly discussed; but, in order that there may be no dissatisfaction, it is thought best that we decide as a body to patronize the line which is acceptable to the majority.
"So far as I can see, the advantages offered by the competing railways are fairly equal; but, to the end that we may compare them, Mr. Manville is here to present the claims of the Transcontinental line; and young Mr. Jarnagan, acting for his father, will do as much for the Colorado East & West."
The judge paused as if about to call on one or the other, but if that were his intention he changed his mind and went on:
"Before opening the discussion, I think it is my duty to call attention to a question of right and wrong which seems to be involved. In the strife to secure our patronage, serious charges and countercharges of unfairness have been made. I hope these may be disproved on one side or the other; and I believe you all will agree with me that we should take this question into account in making our decision.
"Mr. Manville, you were first on the ground; let us hear what you have to say."
During these moments Tom was in an agony of "stage-fright"; but when he heard his reprieve he began to breathe again.
Manville rose, gripped the back of his chair, and slid into his speech with an easy air of self-confidence that made Tom sick with envy. He began by describing the advantages of his line, touching lightly upon the inevitable discomforts of the long journey, and deftly avoiding all mention of untimely changes of cars and bad connections.
Tom listened despairingly, but at the end of fifteen minutes began to cherish the hope that his opponent was not going to say anything about the reported trouble on the C. E. & W. But Manville, who was making a very good case for himself as it was, could not let well enough alone. In concluding, he said:
"I have gone into details merely to show that we have claims which entitle us to consideration against any competing line; but, as a matter of fact, at the present time we have no competitor. You all have seen in your news-paper the statement that the only other line by which you could reach your destination is blocked by washouts; and that being so, if you should buy your tickets over it—as my young friend here would be glad to have you do for the credit of his father's district—you still could not avoid the necessity of going over the Transcontinental Railway."
He sat down, and a buzz of comment ran through the assembly. Then some one asked:
"D' you mean to say if we bought tickets over the Coloraydo road they wouldn't be any good?"
Manville hesitated. He was playing a hazardous game, as he well knew, but he had gone too far to retreat.
"Oh, no; not that. The paper says we are authorized to carry East & West Utah passengers—people holding tickets reading over that line. But as long as you have to use our line, I don't see why you shouldn't buy over it. That's the point I'm trying to make."
Then one of Simpson's friends stood up in his place near the door:
"That's what you say, but the boy says ther' ain't any washouts—says he's telegraphted to his comp'ny, an' they say it's no such a thing."
Manville shrugged his shoulders. "You'd hardly expect any one interested to admit the fact. That would be a surrender in advance."
Tom had been dreading the moment when his turn should come, but now he began to be eager for it. The cool assumption of his opponent inspired him with courage of the sort which does not come at the beck of reason. If that man could stand up and tell plausible falsehoods without tripping, he would presently show them that he could do as well with the truth, at any rate.
"If there are no more questions, we will hear what Mr. Jarnagan has to say," said the judge; and Tom set his teeth and tried hard to keep his knees from knocking together.
The air in the room was very close; and while the moderator waited, Simpson, who was sitting directly behind Tom, got up to raise the window at his back; and Manville shifted his chair and opened the back door.
Then some one called, "Jarnagan! Speech!" and the cry was taken up and passed about.
Tom was almost helpless with embarrassment, but he struggled to his feet when the judge signaled him. As he pushed back his chair, some one behind him slipped a folded paper into his hand.
Now, "stage-fright" is a curious malady, and one of its effects is to make one oblivious to everything except a sea of Medusa-like faces, bounded by wavering shores of walls and ceiling; and seeing these things, Tom clutched the bit of paper and forgot he had it, all in the same instant. When the faces became a little less terrifying, and the walls assumed their proper places, he found his tongue.
"I didn't come here to make a speech," he began. "As far as that goes, I couldn't if I wanted to ever so much—I don't know how. When I got back to Richville this afternoon I was pretty badly discouraged, and thought I wouldn't come at all—it seemed as if it wouldn't be of any use.
"But I'm glad now I did come. I've found out why so many of you didn't seem to have any use for me to-day. You believed that story about the washouts; and you thought I knew, and was just trying to get you to buy tickets our way, anyhow.
"I didn't know, and maybe I can prove it; but first I want to tell you some things that Mr. Manville left out. He told you what he'd do for you if you go his way; but he forgot to tell you that he gave Mr. Olestrom a free pass for promising to take all the Scandinavian colonists over his line. Now, I don't think that's quite fair to the rest of you; and, anyway, I thought you'd like to know—"
Manville interrupted angrily: "Judge Sloan, I object! There isn't a shadow of proof—"
A plain-looking woman rose in the knot of Scandinavians on the front seats and said deliberately:
"Aye can prove dat; Aye bane see dat maeself. Jan Olestrom's wife she show him to mae—ja!"
The woman sat down, and Tom continued:
"That's one thing. Another is, he offered Judge Sloan a pass, and the judge wouldn't take it. Isn't that so, Judge Sloan?"—turning suddenly and appealing to the moderator.
For a second or two the audience grappled with the boyish daring of the thing, and then a shout of laughter went up that made the horses snort in the grove across the road. Even the moderator was constrained to smile, though he rapped smartly for order. Manville colored, but made no other sign; and when quiet was restored, Tom began again:
"Now, about that report in the newspaper. I don't know who started it, and I don't care. Our general passenger-agent says it isn't true, and that's all there is of it. He wired me this morning to get out a special edition of the 'Argus' to contradict it, if I wished to, and I'd have done it if there'd been time. More than that, he said he'd have Mr. Manville's general passenger-agent deny it to Mr. Haworth, so you'd know it was all straight and fair, and—"
He was leaning heavily on the back of his chair, and just at this point Aaron Simpson, whose foot was on one of the rounds, did something that made Tom lose his balance. The farmer caught him neatly and stood him up again, and the audience thought it was an accident and laughed.
In the moment of confusion Simpson whispered: "Why don't you read 'em your despatch? I gave it to you when you first got up."
Tom came to his senses and opened the square of yellow paper which he had been nervously crumpling in his free hand. A glance showed him what it was, and he took up the thread of his speech with a flash of his father's quick wit:
"As I was saying, Mr. Manville's general passenger-agent was to wire Mr. Haworth and deny the report, and here is his telegram."
Manville started to his feet at this, and no one noticed that he did not sit down again when Tom began to read:
- "To H. Haworth, Agent W. & I. R. R.,
Richville, Wisconsin.
- "We have not been requested to honor Colorado East & West tickets, and know nothing of the reported blockade referred to by Mr. Barnes.
"G. P. A., Transcontinental Railway."
Somebody started a shout of applause, and again the little school-house rocked and the horses snorted in sympathy. When the storm subsided, Manville had disappeared. Aaron Simpson went to close the back door.
"Ain't nobody else going to run away," he said dryly, whereat the people laughed again.
Tom sat down, and the editor whispered to Judge Sloan, who rapped for silence.
"Mr. Jeffrey has a word to say," he announced, and the editor rose in his place.
"Just a word and no more. Our friend who has just left us so unceremoniously was responsible for the railway part of the report in the 'Argus.' He gave me the information, and I supposed, of course, it was official. I came here this evening for the express purpose of telling you this if it should seem necessary."
He bowed and sat down, and the judge glanced at his watch. "I think we've found out what we wanted to, neighbors, and it's getting late. All in favor of contracting with this young man's road, please stand up."
The assembly rose as one person.
"All in favor of taking the other route."
Nobody responded.
"Very good. Nominate your trustee, and we'll make the deposit, as agreed."
The judge himself was nominated, and elected by acclamation, and the business part of the affair was put through so speedily that Tom could scarcely count the money as fast as it was handed in. The judge had the contract drawn up in blank; and when it was signed and witnessed, the meeting adjourned.
Many of the colonists had far to go, and the school-house cleared quickly, though a few remained to congratulate Tom. Into the circle of well-wishers came Haworth, with Kate and his sister.
"I'll bet you don't know yet where that message came from," he said, laughing at Tom's embarrassment.
"No, I don't," said Tom.
"I brought it out, as I said I would; and when I looked in at the door and saw how the land lay, I slipped around to that window and gave it to Mr. Simpson here. I thought you were never going to spring it."
"I didn't have sense enough to do it of my own accord. Mr. Simpson kicked the chair from under me, and told me," Tom admitted.
"Well, I had a time getting it here. Norton stayed downtown on purpose to delay me, and I pretty nearly had to fight to get away from him."
"It is a complete vindication for you, my boy, and I'm right glad of it," said the judge. "Manville very nearly made me believe that I was mistaken in you."
"I know it," said Tom, "and that hurt worse than anything else; but it's all right now."
Kate was waiting for her chance at Tom when the rattling of wheels and the quick beat of a horse's hoofs announced a new arrival. The new-comer thrust his face in at the door, and Kate ran to meet him with a little cry of joyful surprise. A moment later Mr. Thomas Jarnagan came up with his daughter on his arm.
"You're too late," laughed the judge, shaking hands heartily with the passenger-agent, who looked from one to another of the group and tried not to doubt the evidence of his senses.
"I—I don't understand," he said. "What—you here, too, Tom? Where's the rest of the family?"
Everybody laughed, and Simpson hastened to explain—a proceeding which made Tom hang his head for sheer shame's sake when the farmer magnified his triumph. Then the judge put in his word, and Kate added hers, and the father was visibly moved.
"Tom, my boy, I'm proud of you," he began; but Tom could stand no more.
"Don't! " he broke in. "Wait till I tell you. Mr. Simpson's letter came two days before you started from St. Paul. I let Harry Bramwell get the mail that day, and he forgot it, and so did I. Then I found Mr. Cargill, and he couldn't come."
"He wired me he couldn't, and that is what brought me back," Mr. Jarnagan explained.
"And then Kate made me see I'd have to tackle it myself or be disgraced forever," Tom went on. "But I never would have got the party if everybody hadn't helped me, and Kate most of all."
The judge put his hand on Tom's shoulder.
"This putting the blame where it belongs isn't the least praiseworthy thing you've done in the last two days," he said, with kindly emphasis; "and I think you have learned something, too. A bit of carelessness is sometimes like a match dropped on dry prairie, and you've been finding out what it costs to put out the fire after it has time to make headway."
The neighborhood lamps had all been reclaimed save one, and Simpson was holding that to light the group to the door. In the road the party separated, Judge Sloan and Mr. Haworth driving to town in the agent's buggy with Mr. Jarnagan's horse in tow, and the passenger-agent walking to The Maples with Kate and Tom and Eleanor.
That was the beginning of a lasting friendship between the Jarnagans and the Haworths, and it led to—but that was a long time afterward, when Henry Haworth had a general agency for the W. & I., and Tom had made a record of his own to give individual value to the name "Tom Jarnagan, Junior."