CHAPTER XXIII
THE SILENT CAMPAIGN
"I have seen that those humans who seek strength from Nature never fail to find it."
MUSINGS OF THE ELEPHANT.
Suma-theek waited eagerly. "I'll send for Uncle Benny," said Pen. "He'llleave anything to help Jim."
Suma-theek nodded. "Good medicine. He that fat uncle that love the BigBoss. I sabez him. You get 'em here quick," and Suma-theek sighed withthe air of one who had accomplished something.
"I'll telephone a night telegram to Cabillo," said Pen. "He ought to behere in a week. But we mustn't tell the Big Boss or he wouldn't let usdo it."
Suma-theek nodded and strolled off. When Pen returned to the tent Sarawas full of curiosity, but Pen began to get supper with the remark, "I'mnot the proper one to tell you, if you don't know!"
When Pen sent the night telegram, she telephoned to Jane Ames, gettingher promise to come up to the dam the next day. As she took the longtrail back from the store, where she had gone for privacy in sending hermessages, it seemed to Pen that she could not bear to refuse Jim thecomfort for which he had begged.
"My one safeguard," she thought, "is to avoid him except where we arechaperoned by half the camp. My poor boy, keeping his real troubles tohimself!"
After Sara was asleep that night, Pen slipped over to talk with Mrs.Flynn. The two women were good friends. Sara's ugliness deprived Penhere as it had in New York of the friendship of most women. In the campwere many charming women who had lived lives with their engineeringhusbands that made them big of soul and sound of body. But Sara wouldhave none of them. So Pen fell back on Mrs. Ames and Mrs. Flynn and thestrangely matched trio had many happy hours together.
But Mrs. Flynn was not in her kitchen, nor was she in her littlebedroom. Pen wandered into the living room. Mrs. Flynn was not there,but Jim was lying on the couch asleep, his hat on the floor beside him.For many moments Pen stood looking at him. Sleep robbed Jim of his guardof self-control. The man lying on the couch, with face relaxed, lipsparted, hair tumbled, looked like the boy whom Pen many a time hadwakened on the hearth rug of the old library.
Suddenly, with a little sob, Pen dropped on her knees beside the couchand laid her cheek against Jim's. She felt him wake with a start, thenshe felt a hand that trembled gently laid on her head.
"Heart's dearest, this is mighty good of you!" said Jim huskily.
Pen did not answer, but she put her hand up and smoothed his hair backfrom his forehead. Jim seized her fingers and carried them to his lips.
"Sweetheart," he said brokenly, "how am I going to bear it without youor--or anything. Oh, Pen, let's go back to Exham and begin all overagain!"
Penelope lifted her head and slipped back until she was sitting on thefloor beside the couch, with Jim holding both her hands against his hotcheek.
"You will do this often, won't you, dear?" asked Jim.
Pen shook her head. "Jimmy, about twice more like this and I'd beactually thinking seriously of leaving Sara and marrying you. God helpme to keep from ever doing as yellow a thing as that, Still. But,somehow tonight, I thought that just this once would help us boththrough all the hard months to come. And the memory will be mightysweet. We--we need a memory to take some of the bitterness out of itall, Still. If I'm wrong in doing this, why the blame is mine alone."
Jim lay silently, holding her hands closer and closer, looking into herface with eyes that did not waver.
Pen smiled and disengaged one hand to smooth his hair again. "I'm a poorpreacher. My life is just an endless struggle not to let my mistakeswreck other people as well as myself. Jim, the thing that will be biggerthan all we've missed is to make you give the world all the fine forcethat is in you. We've _got_ to save the dam for you and for the country.I shall be with you every moment, Jim, no matter where either of us is,bracing you with all the will I've got. Never forget that!"
Little by little the steel lines crept over Jim's face again. "I shallnot forget, little Pen. How sweet you are! How good! How less than alump of dough I'd be if I didn't put up a good fight afterthis!--dearest!"
In the silence that followed, they did not take their gaze from eachother. Then Pen started, as Mrs. Flynn came in at the front door andstopped with her mouth open. But Jim would not free Pen's hand.
"Mother Flynn must have guessed," he said slowly, "and--she knows usboth!"
Mrs. Flynn came over to the couch eagerly. "I do that!" she exclaimed,"and my heart is wore to a string, God knows, sorrowing for the two ofyou."
"I came in to see you and found Jim asleep and--he's got so much troubleahead of him, I couldn't help trying to comfort him just this once. I'llnever do it again," said Pen, like a child.
Mrs. Flynn threw her apron over her head, then pulled it down again tosay, "God knows I'm a good Catholic, but I'm glad you did it. Don't Iknow what a touch of the hand means to remember? Is there a day of mylife I don't live over every caress Timothy Flynn ever gave me? Would Isit in judgment on two as fine as I know the both of you are? I'm goingto make us a cup of tea for our nerves."
Jim swung his long legs off the couch and lifted Pen to her feet. "Thetwo of you have tea," he said. "I've had a better tonic. I'm going outfor a look at the night shift."
By the time that Mrs. Flynn had bustled about and produced the tea, Penhad regained her composure and was ready to tell Mrs. Flynn of theerrand that had brought her to the house, which was that when Jane Amescame up on the morrow the three were to have a council of war on how tohelp Jim. Wild horse could not have dragged from her what Suma-theek hadtold her, since Jim so evidently wanted it kept a secret. Nevertheless,all that a woman could do, possessing that knowledge, Pen was going todo.
The next afternoon, while Oscar joined Murphy and Jim, who were having along talk in Jim's living room, Pen and Mrs. Ames and Mrs. Flynn went uponto the Elephant's back.
Pen's plan was simple. It was merely that she and Jane go among thefarmers' wives and campaign against Fleckenstein. "Women's opinions docount, you know," she said.
"Mine didn't use to," said Jane, "but they do now. I ain't felt so youngin years as I have since Oscar and I had that clearing up. It's asplendid idea."
"Where do I come in?" asked Mrs. Flynn, jealously.
"I wanted you to keep an eye on Sara, the days I am away," said Pen."You are the only one he will let come near him except me."
"Sure I'll do it," said Mrs. Flynn. "I'd take care of a Gila monster ifI thought it would do the Boss any good. And Mr. Sara don't sass me somuch since I told him what I thought of the Greek church. No! No! Iwon't tell the Boss. God knows I'm worried thin as a knitting needle nowover his worrying."
"Then I'll come down tomorrow, Jane," said Pen. "Bill Evans will take usround. He charges----" Pen blushed and stopped. "I--I--to tell thetruth, I have to ask Sara for what I want and I don't know just how toget round it, this time."
Jane in her turn went red. "I'll ask Oscar. I hadn't begun to break himin on that yet. But he's been so nice lately."
Mrs. Flynn stood eying the two women. "Of all the fools, women are theworst," she snorted. "You bet Tim never kept the purse and there neverwas a happier pair than him and me. Just you wait."
As she spoke, Jim's near mother was exploring the region within hergingham waist and finally she tugged out a chamois skin bag that bulgedwith bills. "I ain't been down to the bank at Cabillo for months, andthat angel boy pays me regular as a clock. How much do you want?"
"Oh, but we can't let you pay out anything, Mrs. Flynn," protestedPenelope.
Neither Pen nor Mrs. Ames had seen Mrs. Flynn angry before. "I mustn't,mustn't I?" she shrieked. "Who's got a better right? Who feeds him andlaunders him and mends him? Don't he call me Mother Flynn? God knows Inever thought to see the day to be told I could not do for him! I expectto be doing for him till I die and if God lets me live to spare my life,that'll be a long time yet!"
Pen threw her arms round Mrs. Flynn and kissed her plump
cheek. "Blessyour dear heart, you shall spend all you want to on Jim."
Mother Flynn sobbed a little. "God knows I'm an old fool, girls! Takewhat you want and come back for more."
And thus the campaign for Jim among the farmers' wives was launched.
Neither Oscar nor Murphy had any faith in Jim's "silent campaign." Buthis own quiet fervor was such that after that Sunday afternoon's talk,both men pledged themselves to help him. Murphy was to play the part ofwatchdog. Oscar was to work among the farmers.
Oscar Ames never did anything by halves. With Jane urging him fromwithout and his new found faith in Jim urging him from within, he turnedhis ranch over to the foreman and devoted himself utterly to Jim. Thedays now were busy ones in the valley as well as on the dam. Jim'seighteen hours a day often stretched into twenty, though he sometimesdozed in his office chair or in the automobile with Oscar, reveling inhis new-learned accomplishment, driving at a snail's pace.
During this period Pen saw him only infrequently, for she was muchoccupied with Sara, who was not so well, when she was not in the valleywith Jane Ames. Even when Pen did see Jim, he talked very little. Itseemed to her that in his fear lest the secret of his dismissal escapehim, he had gone into himself and shut the door even against her.
They did not speak again of watching Sara, but Pen knew that no mailleft their tent, no visitor came and went without surveillance. If Saraknew of this, he made no comment. In fact, he did very little now savesmoke and stare idly out the door.
Reports of Jim's campaign reached Pen quite regularly, however. Oscarwas a very steady source of information.
"He don't say much, you know, and that's what makes a hit," Oscar toldPen and Jane. "For instance, he went over to old Miguel's ranch.Miguel's one of the fellow's been accusing the Boss of raising the costof the dam so's he could steal the money. Boss, he found old Miguellooking over his ditch that's over a hundred years old. And the Boss, hesays as common as an old shoe:
"'Wish I owned the place my fathers built a hundred years ago, SenorMiguel.'
"Miguel, he had had his mind made up for a fight, but started offtelling the Boss about old Spanish days in the valley and the Boss, hesits nodding and smoking Miguel's rotten cigarettes and smiling at himsort of sad and friendly like until old Miguel he thinks the Boss is theonly man he ever met that understood him. After two straight hours ofthis, the Boss he says he'll have to go, but he wishes old Miguel wouldcome up and spend the day and dine with him. Says he's got some seriousproblems he'd like old Miguel's opinion on. And old Miguel, he followsus clear out to the main road, where we left the machine, and he tellsthe Boss his house is his and his wife and his daughters and sons arehis and his horses and cattle are his and that he will be glad to comeup and show him how to build the dam."
"Mrs. Flynn says he's having some farmer up to supper nearly everynight," said Jane. "Oscar, how comes it you always speak of Mr. Manningas the Boss, now? You never would call any other man that?"
Oscar squared his big shoulders. "He's the only man I ever met I thoughtknew more than I do. You ought to hear the things he can tell you aboutdam building. And he's full of other ideas, too. A lot of what you folksput down as stuckupedness is just quietness on his part while he thinks.I'm trying to pound that into these bullheaded ranchers round here. Itell 'em how to make sand-cement, for instance, and then ask 'em if afellow didn't have to keep his mouth shut and saw wood while he thoughta thing like that out. I'm willing to call him Boss, all right. He'sgot more in his head than sand cement, too. Last night, we was cominghome just before supper. He's been on the job since four in the morningand I knew he had to get back and work half the night on office work.And I says:
"'Boss, what will you get out of it to pay you for half killing yourselfthis way?'
"He didn't answer me for a long time, then he begun to tell me a storyabout how he and another fellow went through the Makon canyon and howthat other fellow felt about it and how he was drowned and how he hadsome verses that that fellow taught him printed on his gravestone.Thought I'd remember those lines. They made me feel more religious thananything I've heard at church. Something about Sons of Martha."
Pen had been listening, her heart in her eyes, trying not to envy Oscarhis long days with Jim. Now she leaned forward eagerly.
"Oh, I know what he quoted to you:
"'Lift ye the stone or cleave the wood to make a path more or flat, Lo, it is black already with blood, some Son of Martha spilled for that. Not as a ladder from Earth to Heaven, not as an altar to any creed, But simple Service, simply given, to their own kind, in their common need.'"
The three sat silent for a moment, then Oscar nodded. "That's them. Hesaid he never got their full meaning till just lately and now he'strying to live up to 'em. I'm perfectly willing to call him Boss."
Pen and Jane were not finding the farmers' wives easy to influence.Their task was a double one. First they had to rouse interest in thecoming election and then they had to persuade the women that theirhusbands were wrong. Moreover, after the first week or so, they foundthat Penelope's presence was a hindrance rather than a help. It wasafter their call on Mrs. Hunt that they reluctantly reached thisconclusion.
Bill rattled them up to a bungalow on one of the new ranches. The Huntswere newcomers, having bad luck with their first attempts at irrigation.Mrs. Hunt was a hearty looking woman of forty. Pen stated the object ofthe call.
"I never had any interest in politics," said Mrs. Hunt. "I was alwaystoo busy with my family to gallivant around."
Jane and Pen plunged earnestly into explanations. When they hadfinished, Mrs. Hunt said:
"I can see why Mrs. Ames is so interested. But why should you be, Mrs.Sardox? I heard your husband was backing Fleckenstein."
"I don't agree with my husband's ideas," said Pen. "I am doing thisbecause I think Fleckenstein's election will do the valley a deadlywrong."
"Oh, you are one of those eastern women that thinks they know more thantheir husbands! I am not! I prefer to let my husband do my thinking inpolitics for me. Does Mr. Manning know you're doing this?"
"Oh, no!" cried Jane. "You don't understand this, Mrs. Hunt."
"I'm no fool," returned Mrs. Hunt. "And I tell you it don't look wellfor a good-looking young married woman to go round fighting against herhusband for a handsome young bachelor like Manning. So there!"
Pen and Jane withdrew with as much dignity as they could muster. It wasthe sixth rebuff they had received that day. Pen was almost in tears.
"Jane, what are we to do?"
Jane fastened up her linen duster firmly. "One thing is sure, you can'tgo round with me. One way, you can't blame 'em for looking at it so,drat 'em! I'll just have to carry on this campaign by myself. I wish Mr.Manning could go with me. I don't think he has any idea that he has away with women. He just sits around looking as if he had a deep-hiddensorrow and all us women fall for it. You and I aren't a bit moresensible than Mrs. Flynn. Here I got a Chinese cook in the house Oscarlugged home. I'd as soon have a rat in the house as one of the nastyyellow things, but Oscar says I got to have him or a dish washingmachine, so, after all, I've said I'm up against it. And here I amdashing round the country for Mr. Manning, when I know that Chink ismaking opium pills in my kitchen."
But Pen was not to be distracted. "What can I do, Jane? Must I just sitwith folded hands while the rest of you work?"
"You do your share in supplying ideas, Penelope," said Jane.
Pen answered with a little sob, "I get tired of that job! I want to beon the firing line, just once!"
That night they consulted with Oscar. At first he was very hostile tothe thought of either of them undertaking such work. Then in the midstof his tirade on woman's sphere, he stopped with a roar of laughter.
"And I'm a fine example of what a woman can do with a man when she getsbusy! All right, Jane, go ahead. Hanged if I ain't proud of you! ButMrs. Pen is hurting the cause. The women folks won't stand for you, Mrs.Pen; you are too pretty."
> So Pen withdrew from the campaign and Jane and Bill Evans went on alone.
When Oscar was not with Jim, he brought visitors to the dam. Thesevisitors were farmers and business men from the entire Project. Ames wascareful to time the visits, so that about the time he strolled up to thedam site with the callers, Jim would be on his tour of inspection. Oscarwould then follow unostentatiously in Jim's wake, but close enough toget a good idea of the ground that Jim covered. Often he would make Jimstop and give an explanation of some point the visitors could notunderstand. Penelope, consumed with curiosity, joined the touring partyone day.
"I wish you could see him in full action," Oscar was saying. "Like theday of the flood or the night Dad Robins was killed. He can handlefifteen hundred men better'n I handle my three. Now you watch him. Thosethere fellows he's joshing have been with him seven years. You ought tohear their stories about driving the tunnel up on the Makon. Say, he'dgo right in with 'em. Never asked 'em to go somewhere he wouldn't gohimself. They all laugh at us farmers, those rough-necks. Say, we don'tknow a real man when we see one."
The bronzed elderly man who was with Oscar listened intently. Oscar wenton:
"The details on a place like this are enough to drive a man crazy. Hedassent let 'em pour concrete without him or his cement expert isround. If the rocks aren't just right or the surface of the sectionisn't just right or they slip up a little on the mixture, the wholething will go to thunder some day. He's got to spend ten million dollarswith eighty million people watching him and all us farmers kicking everyminute. How'd you like his job?"
"He was over at my place the other day," said the farmer. "I see how hegot his nickname. But he's awful easy to talk to. I got to telling himwhat a hard time I had the first year or two I was irrigating alfalfaand how I get five good cuttings a year now, regular. He wants me toshow that new fellow Hunt how I did it. Guess I will. I always thoughtManning hated the farmers. But I guess he was just busy with his owntroubles."
Pen fell back and climbed the trail to a point where she could look downon Jim. He was listening to his master mechanic, interjecting a word nowand then at which his subordinate nodded eagerly. Pen wondered sadly,what Jim would do with his life when he could no longer work for theProjects. The thought of this sudden thwarting of all his plans hauntedher and she longed almost unbearably to talk to him about it, but hissilence on the subject she felt that she must respect. As she saunteredon along the trail to meet Bill Evans exploding into camp with the mail,she was thinking back over Jim's life and of how much of it had beenspent in listening rather than in speaking. His silence, she thought,was a part of his great personal charm. From it his companions got asense of a keen, sympathetic intelligence focused entirely on their ownproblems that was very attractive. Somehow, Pen had faith that hiscampaign of silence would defeat Fleckenstein.
Bill had a lone passenger in his tonneau. Pen's pulse quickened. As themachine reached her side, Bill stopped with his usual flourish, andUncle Denny, without waiting to open the door which was fastened withbinding wire, climbed out over the front seat.
"Pen! Pen! The door of me heart has hung sagging and open ever since youleft!"