CHAPTER II
It was indeed a good place for children. Charley and Alice Gates grewtall and strong, big boned, magnificent, typical California products.They went to the district school, rode in the mountains, helped handlethe wild cattle. At the age of twelve Charley began to accompany thesummer incursions into the High Sierras in search of feed. At the age ofsixteen he was entrusted with a bunch of cattle. In these summers helearned the wonder of the high, glittering peaks, the blueness of theskies in high altitudes, the multitude of the stars, the flower-gemmedsecret meadows, the dark, murmuring forests. He fished in the streams,and hunted on the ridges. His camp was pitched within a corral of heavylogs. It was very simple. Utensils depending from trees, beds beneathcanvas tarpaulins on pine needles, saddlery, riatas, branding ironsscattered about. No shelter but the sky. A wonderful roving life.
It developed taciturnity and individualism. Charley Gates felt nonecessity for expression as yet; and as his work required littlecooeperation from his fellow creatures he acknowledged as littleresponsibility toward them. Thus far he was the typical mountaineer.
But other influences came to him; as, indeed, they come to all. Butyoung Charley was more susceptible than most, and this--on the impulseof the next tide resurgent--saved him from his type. He liked to read;he did not scorn utterly and boisterously the unfortunate young man whotaught the school; and, better than all, he possessed just thequestioning mind that refuses to accept on their own asseveration onlythe conventions of life or the opinions of neighbours. If he were todrink, it would be because he wanted to; not because his companionsconsidered it manly. If he were to enter the sheep war, it would bebecause he really considered sheep harmful to the range; not because ofthe overwhelming--and contagious--prejudice.
In one thing only did he follow blindly his sense of loyalty: He hatedthe Hydraulic Company.
Years after the placers failed someone discovered that the wholesale useof hydraulic "giants" produced gold in paying quantities. Huge streamsof water under high pressure were directed against the hills, whichmelted like snow under the spring sun. The earth in suspension was runover artificial riffles against which the heavier gold collected. Onesuch stream could accomplish in a few hours what would have cost handminers the better part of a season.
But the debris must go somewhere. A rushing mud and boulder-filledtorrent tore down stream beds adapted to a tenth of their volume. Itwrecked much of the country below, ripping out the good soil, coveringthe bottomlands many feet deep with coarse rubble, clay, mud, and evenbig rocks and boulders. The farmers situated below such operationssuffered cruelly. Even to this day the devastating results may be seenabove Colfax or Sacramento.
John Gates suffered with the rest. His was not the nature to submittamely, nor to compromise. He had made his farm with his own hands, andhe did not propose to see it destroyed. Much money he expended throughthe courts; indeed the profits of his business were eaten by anever-ending, inconclusive suit. The Hydraulic Company, securelyentrenched behind the barriers of especial privilege, could laugh at hisfrontal attacks. It was useless to think of force. The feud degeneratedinto a bitter legal battle and much petty guerrilla warfare on bothsides.
To this quarrel Charley had been bred up in a consuming hate of theHydraulic Company, all its works, officers, bosses, and employees. Everyhuman being in any way connected with it wore horns, hoofs, and a tail.In company with the wild youths of the neighbourhood he perpetrated manya raid on the Company's property. Beginning with boyish openings ofcorrals to permit stock to stray, these raids progressed with the yearsuntil they had nearly arrived at the dignity of armed deputies and benchwarrants.
The next day of significance to our story was October 15, 1872. On thatdate fire started near Flour Gold and swept upward. October is always abad time of year for fires in foothill California--between the rains,the heat of the year, everything crisp and brown and brittle. Thisthreatened the whole valley and water shed. The Gateses turned out, andall their neighbours, with hoe, mattock, axe, and sacking, trying tobeat, cut, or scrape a "break" wide enough to check the flames. It wascruel work. The sun blazed overhead and the earth underfoot. The airquivered as from a furnace. Men gasped at it with straining lungs. Thesweat pouring from their bodies combined with the parching of thesuperheated air induced a raging thirst. No water was to be had savewhat was brought to them. Young boys and women rode along the linecarrying canteens, water bottles, and food. The fire fighters snatchedhastily at these, for the attack of the fire permitted no respite. Twicethey cut the wide swath across country; but twice before it wascompleted the fire crept through and roared into triumph behind them.The third time the line held, and this was well into the second day.
Charley Gates had fought doggedly. He had summoned the splendidresources of youth and heritage, and they had responded. Next in line tohis right had been a stranger. This latter was a slender, clean-cutyouth, at first glance seemingly of delicate physique. Charley hadlooked upon him with the pitying contempt of strong youth for weakyouth. He considered that the stranger's hands were soft and effeminate,he disliked his little trimmed moustache, and especially the cool,mocking, appraising glance of his eyes. But as the day, and the night,and the day following wore away, Charley raised his opinion. The slenderbody possessed unexpected reserve, the long, lean hands plied the toolsunweariedly, the sensitive face had become drawn and tired, but thespirit behind the mocking eyes had not lost the flash of its defiance.In the heat of the struggle was opportunity for only the briefestexchanges. Once, when Charley despairingly shook his empty canteen, thestranger offered him a swallow from his own. Next time exigency crowdedthem together, Charley croaked:
"Reckon we'll hold her."
Toward evening of the second day the westerly breeze died, and shortlythere breathed a gentle air from the mountains. The danger was past.
Charley and the stranger took long pulls from their recently replenishedcanteens. Then they sank down where they were, and fell instantlyasleep. The projecting root of a buckthorn stuck squarely into Charley'sribs, but he did not know it; a column of marching ants, led by anon-adaptable commander, climbed up and over the recumbent form of thestranger, but he did not care.
They came to life in the shiver of gray dawn, wearied, stiffened, theireyes swelled, their mouths dry.
"You're a sweet sight, stranger," observed Charley.
"Same to you and more of 'em," rejoined the other.
Charley arose painfully.
"There's a little water in my canteen yet," he proffered. "What mightyou call yourself? I don't seem to know you in these parts."
"Thanks," replied the other. "My name's Cathcart; I'm from just above."
He drank, and lowered the canteen to look into the flaming, bloodshoteyes of his companion.
"Are you the low-lived skunk that's running the Hydraulic Company?"demanded Charley Gates.
The stranger laid down the canteen and scrambled painfully to his feet.
"I am employed by the Company," he replied, curtly, "but please tounderstand I don't permit you to call me names."
"Permit!" sneered Charley.
"Permit," repeated Cathcart.
So, not having had enough exercise in the past two days, these younggame cocks went at each other. Charley was much the strongerrough-and-tumble fighter; but Cathcart possessed some boxing skill.Result was that, in their weakened condition, they speedily foughtthemselves to a standstill without serious damage to either side.
"Now perhaps you'll tell me who the hell you think you are!" pantedCathcart, fiercely.
At just beyond arm's length they discussed the situation, at firstbelligerently with much recrimination, then more calmly, at last with amodicum of mutual understanding. Neither seceded from his basic opinion.Charley Gates maintained that the Company had no earthly businessruining his property, but admitted that with all that good gold lyingthere it was a pity not to get it out. Cathcart stoutly defended a man'sperfect right to do as he pleased with his own belongings,
but concededthat something really ought to be done about overflow waters.
"What are you doing down here fighting fire, anyway?" demanded Charley,suddenly. "It couldn't hurt your property. You could turn the 'giants'on it, if it ever came up your way."
"I don't know. I just thought I ought to help out a little," saidCathcart, simply.
For three years more Charley ran his father's cattle in the hills. Thenhe announced his intention of going away. John Gates was thunderstruck.By now he was stranded high and dry above the tide, fitting perfectlyhis surroundings. Vaguely he had felt that his son would stay with himalways. But the wave was again surging upward. Charley had talked withCathcart.
"This is no country to draw a salary in," the latter had told him, "norto play with farming or cows. It's too big, too new, there are too manyopportunities. I'll resign, and you leave; and we'll make our fortunes."
"How?" asked Charley.
"Timber," said Cathcart.
They conferred on this point. Cathcart had the experience of businessways; Charley Gates the intimate knowledge of the country; there onlyneeded a third member to furnish some money. Charley broke the news tohis family, packed his few belongings, and the two of them went to SanFrancisco.
Charley had never seen a big city. He was very funny about it, but notoverwhelmed. While willing, even avid, to go the rounds and meet thesporting element, he declined to drink. When pressed and badgered by hisnew acquaintances, he grinned amiably.
"I never play the other fellows' game," he said. "When it gets to be mygame, I'll join you."
The new partners had difficulty in getting even a hearing.
"It's a small business," said capitalists, "and will be. The demand forlumber here is limited, and it is well taken care of by small concernsnear at hand."
"The state will grow and I am counting on the outside market," arguedCathcart.
But this was too absurd! The forests of Michigan, Wisconsin, andMinnesota were inexhaustible! As for the state growing to that extent;of course we all believe it, but when it comes to investing good moneyin the belief----
At length they came upon one of the new millionaires created by thebonanzas of Virginia City.
"I don't know a damn thing about your timber, byes," said he, "but Ilike your looks. I'll go in wid ye. Have a seegar; they cost me a dollarapiece."
The sum invested was absurdly, inadequately small.
"It'll have to spread as thin as it can," said Cathcart.
They spent the entire season camping in the mountains. By the end of thesummer they knew what they wanted; and immediately took steps to acquireit. Under the homestead laws each was entitled to but a small tract ofGovernment land. However, they hired men to exercise their privileges inthis respect, to take up each his allotted portion, and then to conveyhis rights to Cathcart and Gates. It was slow business, for the show ofcompliance with Government regulations had to be made. But in thismanner the sum of money at their disposal was indeed spread out verythin.
For many years the small, nibbling lumbering operations their limitedcapital permitted supplied only a little more than a bare living and thetaxes. But every available cent went back into the business. It grew.Band saws replaced the old circulars; the new mills delivered theirproduct into flumes that carried it forty miles to the railroad. Theconstruction of this flume was a tremendous undertaking, but by now thefirm could borrow on its timber. To get the water necessary to keep theflume in operation the partners--again by means of "dummies"--filed onthe water rights of certain streams. To take up the water directly waswithout the law; but a show of mineral stain was held to justify a"mineral claim," so patents were obtained under that ruling. ThenCharley had a bright idea.
"Look here, Cliff," he said to Cathcart. "I know something aboutfarming; I was brought up on a farm. This country will grow anythinganywhere if it has water. That lower country they call a desert, butthat's only because it hasn't any rainfall. We're going to have a lot ofwater at the end of that flume----"
They bought the desert land at fifty cents an acre; scraped ditches andchecks; planted a model orchard, and went into the real estate business.In time a community grew up. When hydro-electric power came into its ownCathcart & Gates from their various water rights furnished light forthemselves, and gradually for the towns and villages round-about. Thustheir affairs spread and became complicated. Before they knew it theywere wealthy, very wealthy. Their wives--for in due course each had hisromance--began to talk of San Francisco.
All this had not come about easily. At first they had to fight tooth andnail. The conditions of the times were crude, the code merciless. Assoon as the firm showed its head above the financial horizon, it wasswooped upon. Business was predatory. They had to fight for what theygot; had to fight harder to hold it. Cathcart was involved continuallyin a maze of intricate banking transactions; Gates resisted aggressionwithin and without, often with his own two fists. They learned to trustno man, but they learned also to hate no man. It was all part of thegame. More sensitive temperaments would have failed; these succeeded.Cathcart became shrewd, incisive, direct, cold, a little hard; CharleyGates was burly, hearty, a trifle bullying. Both were in allcircumstances quite unruffled; and in some circumstances ruthless.
About 1900 the entire holdings of the Company were capitalized, and astock company was formed. The actual management of the lumbering, theconduct of the farms and ranches, the running of the hydro-electricsystems of light and transportation, were placed in the hands of activeyoung men. Charley Gates and his partner exercised over these activitiesonly the slightest supervision; auditing accounts, making an occasionaltrip of inspection. Affairs would quite well have gone on without them;though they would have disbelieved and resented that statement.
The great central offices in San Francisco were very busy--all but theinner rooms where stood the partners' desks. One day Cathcart lit afresh cigar, and slowly wheeled his chair.
"Look here, Charley," he proposed, "we've got a big surplus. There's noreason why we shouldn't make a killing on the side."
"As how?" asked Gates.
Cathcart outlined his plan. It was simply stock manipulation on a bigscale; although the naked import was somewhat obscured by thecomplications of the scheme. After he had finished Gates smoked for sometime in silence.
"All right, Cliff," said he, "let's do it."
And so by a sentence, as his father before him, he marked the farthestthrow of the wave that had borne him blindly toward the shore. In thenext ten years Cathcart and Gates made forty million dollars. Charleyseemed to himself to be doing a tremendous business, but his real work,his contribution to the episode in the life of the commonwealth, ceasedthere. Again the wave receded.