IV.--PRELIMINARIES IN ST. MARYS
Snow was on the ground and the river crisping with tinkling sheets ofspreading ice when Clark again reached St. Marys and withcharacteristic energy laid his first plans. These were to supply thetown with water and light, and the fact that the well remembered publicpromise was thus to be redeemed reassured the citizens as nothing elsecould have done. It was true that heavy work was impossible beforespring, but Belding, on instructions, deposited with the town councilan imposing set of blue prints which showed water pipes and electriccircuits radiating through every part of the town.
It was a week or so later that one day in the office Belding looked upas though he had been called and caught his chief's penetrating gaze.
"Are you engaged, Belding; I mean to be married?" There was a twinklein the gray eyes.
"No, sir."
"Want to be?"
"No, sir."
"Anything to think of except the work?"
Belding shook his head. He had already learned never to show surprise.
"Then suppose I share your quarters for the rest of the winter. Ican't stand that hotel any longer."
The engineer flushed. Already he had put Clark away in the corner ofhis mind as one not comparable to any man he had ever met. Hisdirectness, his versatility, the suggestion of power that lay behindpower,--all these Belding had found in him. And this was a little likebeing asked to share quarters with the Pope.
"I'm afraid you won't be very comfortable, sir." Belding had the useof a big house, but it was hard to heat.
"I'll be better off than where I am," said Clark, and that settled it.He had apparently conceived for the young man as much liking as hecared to show for any one. Presently he laughed.
"You're wondering why I asked whether you were going to be married."
"I am--rather."
"Well, it's only because I feel a bit superfluous to any one in thatcondition."
"Then you're not married yourself?" said Belding involuntarily.
Clark's eyes hardened. "No," he answered with extreme deliberation, "Iam not, I am too busy." Presently his mood changed and he addedprovocatively, "But you're doomed, I see it in your face."
Belding smiled. "I haven't met her yet."
"It isn't a case of your meeting her; it's the other way on. You maynever know it, but she will."
Belding glanced at him, puzzled. This was not the Clark he knew tenminutes ago. And just then the other man pulled himself up.
"I think I'd move that mill about a hundred feet west," he went on,bending over a drawing. "It will shorten the head race and save money."
The engineer nodded and drew a long breath. He had expected to get aglimpse of the inner man, but the door was banged in his face.
That winter was, for him, an adventure in regions fascinating andremote. It is probable that at the time there was not on the NorthAmerican continent a man more highly endowed than Clark with gifts ofsheer psychological power. Belding, young in his world, could notrecognize it as such, but he fell the more completely under thewizard-like spell of his companion's imagination. The days, shortenedby late sun and long nights, passed with early journeys to thetemporary office which Clark had built at the canal, where theycompiled endless surveys and plans in which the scope of the future wasgraphically depicted. On these miniature spaces factory shoulderedagainst factory and mill against mill. The canal doubled in size, and,stupendous as it all seemed, Belding could see no reason why thesethings should not shortly exist. It was vastly different from formerdays.
As the weeks passed, he began to get Clark in clearer prospective. Itbecame forced on him that this hypnotic stranger had no desire exceptthat of creation. It seemed that his supreme determination was to winfrom the earth that which he believed it offered, and express himselfin steel and stone and concrete, in the construction of great buildingsand in the impressive rumble of natural power under human control.There was talk of many things, colored by keen, incisive comments fromthis man of many parts, but never once did he put forward the subjectof wealth or the means of its amassing. The possession, or at leastthe direction, of great sums was imperative to him, but he valued themonly for what they could achieve, and Belding always got the sensationof his new approach to subjects hitherto deemed well worn, and thatremarkable mixture of impatience and intuitive power whichcharacterized his analysis. Again there were evenings when Clark didnot want to talk, but slipped off to the piano. Then the engineer sawanother man within the man, one who, plunged in profound meditation,sat for hours, while his strong yet delicate fingers explored the keys,interpreting the color of his mood and drawing, as it were, from somemystical source that on which the subtle brain was nourished. Andthese were periods which the other soon learned were not to beinterrupted.
They were constantly asked out and entertained with old timehospitality, Clark being the object of supreme curiosity in St. Marys,and more often than not he slipped away early, leaving Belding on duty.It was on these occasions that the contrast between his chief andothers stood out most prominently, there being nothing, it seemed, thatany one could do for him. His principal desire was to be let alone.
It was one night at the Wordens' that Belding caught what he took to beevidence of a heart that was fastidiously concealed. Clark, in frontof the fireplace, was listening to the judge dilate on the ancienthistory of St. Marys, and that of lost and silent tribes who oncepaddled along the shore and lifted their delicate bark canoes aroundthe tumbling rapids. Worden was a wise, old man with a certain gentledignity, and his wife, a dainty, middle-aged lady with slowly grayinghair and kindly eyes.
"There was a good deal of bloodshed about," ruminated the judge. "Ofcourse the Jesuit got here first and performed the mysteries of theHost in front of the natives. There were Indian wars and a good dealof torturing went on up on your property, Mr. Clark. Then the Frenchand English traders shot each other from behind trees, where Iunderstand you are going to build your pulp mill, and the survivorstook the furs and struck off for Montreal in canoes, a matter of somesix hundred miles. After that the Red River Company and the Hudson Baygot at loggerheads."
"In short," put in Clark, "I've picked out a veritable battle ground.By the way, who is this, if I may ask?" He lifted a photograph fromthe mantel.
Mrs. Worden smiled proudly. "Our daughter, Elsie. She's seventeen nowand we won't see her for two years. She's in the West with her aunt."
"Oh!" said Clark. His brows pulled down and he scanned the print withclose attention. "She has imagination I take it."
"Too much for her own comfort," remarked the judge.
Clark did not answer but dropped into one of those thoughtful silenceswhich, while they did not seem to exclude, made it nevertheless appearpresumptuous to rouse him.
"Too much imagination," he repeated presently. "Is that possible?"Then, after another long stare, "It's a very unusual face."
Mrs. Worden looked very happy. "We're going to take great care ofElsie when we get her back. She had this long, delightful invitationand we let her go because we thought she'd see more than she could in|St. Marys, but she writes that it's even quieter."
"The old St. Marys is nearly at an end and your daughter will find foodfor her imagination when she gets back. May I show this to Mr.Belding?"
The young man took the photograph with a queer sense of participationin something he did not understand. He saw a broad, low forehead,masses of soft and slightly curly hair, eyes that looked beautifullyand wistfully, out from beneath finely arched brows and a mouth thatlacked nothing in humorous suggestion. Puzzling for an instant what itwas that had attracted his impersonal chief, he heard the latter sayinggood night with customary abruptness.
"Come along, Belding; we've got a long day ahead of us. The directorswill be here to-morrow."
The judge was vastly interested. "So St. Marys is in actual touch withPhiladelphia?"
"Very much so, and in about two years St. Marys wil
l loom very large inPhiladelphia. Good night and thank you."
The wind was stinging and they drove home rather silently. Arriving atthe big house, Clark went to the piano and played for a moment. Themusic ceased as suddenly as it began and, warming himself at the greatstove in the hall, Belding heard a short laugh and an exclamation."Too much imagination," exploded Clark. The tone was one of utterincredulity. At that the young man felt curiously truculent. Elsiewas only seventeen, while Clark was certainly not less thanthirty-five. Then the latter reappeared, rubbing his chilled fingers.
"The piano is too stiff with cold to talk. By the way, Worden wastalking about the bishop. What bishop?"
Belding told him what he knew. "He's an Irishman and a fine man. Heworks this part of his diocese from St. Marys in the summer. One hearsall kinds of stories about him from the woods and the islands. He'sgot a sense of humor and is a good sportsman, but I've only met himonce or twice. Just now he's over in England raising money to buy asmall yacht to navigate himself when he's traveling on duty, andweather won't stop him if he gets it. You'll see him next spring."
Clark seemed interested. "I don't know many parsons but that doesn'tdescribe them to me. A sportsman and a sense of humor, eh? It soundslike a hunting parson. I thought they were all dead."
"This one isn't."
"St. Marys begins to offer more than I expected," smiled his chief."Are you going to bed, or will you sit here and freeze to death?"
Riggs, Stoughton, and Wimperley came up next day. Clark met them atthe station, where a bitter wind was droning down from the north, andBelding, by engineering of a high order, made room for them at hisquarters. Then they drove out to the canal, and with Clark climbed theicy embankment while the latter expounded the situation.
"There," he said cheerfully, "will be the first power house, and theremill number one."
Riggs, a small thin-blooded man, peered at the glassy landscape."Splendid," he chattered, while Stoughton pulled his fur collar overhis ears and set his back to the wind.
"Up at the north end,--you can see it better if you step a little thisway--will be the head gates. That railway trestle--you see thattrestle don't you, Wimperley?--"
Wimperley pulled himself together, but his feet had lost all feeling."Yes, any one could see that."
"Well, that will be replaced by a steel bridge at the railway'sexpense. We propose to widen the canal at that point to one hundredfeet at the bottom, and now--" here he seized the unfortunate Stoughtonand swung him so that he faced into the chilling blast--"I want topoint out the booming ground for logs."
Stoughton muttered something that sounded like strong condemnation ofall logs, but Clark did not seem to hear him.
"They'll come round that point, swing into the bay and feed down thisway to the mill. You get that, don't you?"
They all got it, at least so they earnestly assured the speaker whostood with his overcoat half unbuttoned, his cap on the back of hishead and apparently oblivious of the temperature. This frigid anddesolate scene had no terrors for him. Beneath the icy skin hediscovered its promise.
"There'll be two booms--one for pulp wood and the other for hard woodfor the veneer mills. You make hard wood float by driving plugs oflighter wood into both ends of the log. And now, if you'll step downthis way, I'll show you where the dredges will start work."
"Look here," said Riggs in a quavering voice, "what's the matter withmy cheek? I can't feel it."
Clark glanced at him and shook with sudden laughter. "Only a bit offrost bite,--perhaps we'd better go back to the office. It's a pity,though,"--here he hesitated a little--"there's quite a lot more to see."
Whereupon Riggs and the other two at once assured him that unless theysought shelter forthwith they would flatly refuse to authorize theexpenditure of any more money whatever in a country as blasted as this.After which they repaired to the office, where Belding waited with hisblue prints and Clark outlined the possible future. As he put it,these developments were only possible and depended on what that futuremight bring forth. But as he talked, Belding, for one, knew that thewhole magnificent program had been definitely determined in thatastonishing brain.
They drove back in the open sleigh and the horses, chilled in the cold,sent the snow flying about their ears. There was but little talk andit was not until they drew abreast of a stone building that Stoughtonspoke.
"Nice jail you've got here," he remarked with a grin. "Looks as ifthey had been expecting our crowd."
Clark laughed. "It's the home of the only pessimist I have found inSt. Marys."
"Then let's drop in and convert him." Stoughton was feeling warmer,and the keen, dry air and brilliant sun affected him like wine.
There was an instantaneous shout of approval, and three school boys inthe shape of the three most influential men of Philadelphia rolledhappily out of the sleigh. Riggs turned with mischief in his eye and abright red patch on his cheek.
"Come on, Clark; we need something like this after the dose you havegiven us."
At the trampling of feet, Manson looked out of the window, then steppeddeliberately to the door. The next minute Clark was busy introducing."Mr. Manson, this is Mr. Wimperley, auditor of the Columbian RailwayCompany; Mr. Riggs, president of the Philadelphia Bank, and Mr.Stoughton, of the American Iron Works. We're all cold and castourselves on your mercy. They've had enough power canal for to-day."
Manson waved them in with just the gesture with which he motioned aprisoner into the dock. It was the only gesture he knew. His brainwas working with unwonted rapidity, and he glanced questioningly atClark, but the face of the latter was impassive. The visitors groupedthemselves round the big box stove that was stuffed with blazinghardwood.
"Lived here long, Mr. Manson?" hazarded Riggs, stretching his thinfingers to the heat.
"All my life, gentlemen, and I don't want anything else."
"You haven't been in jail for that time?" put in the irrepressibleStoughton.
The big man relaxed to a smile. "I've been in charge here for the lasttwenty-five years, and I like it."
The three glanced at him with a sudden and genuine interest. The manwas so massive; his hair so black, and, at the age of fifty, stillunstreaked with gray. His face was large and strong, with a certainJovian quality in cheek, ear, and chin. He suggested latent physicalpowers that, if aroused, would be tremendous.
"Find it pretty quiet?" went on Stoughton.
"Yes, but that's what I like."
"Then you don't entirely approve of our plans up at the rapids? Atleast, so Mr. Clark tells me."
Manson's glance lifted and went straight into Clark's gray eyes.
"No, I don't believe in them, if," he added, "I can say so withoutoffense."
Riggs stripped off his heavy fur coat, and turned his back to the stove.
"Just why, may I ask?"
"Well, I have a feeling you'll spoil St. Marys. It's just right as itis. We haven't much excitement and I reckon we don't want it. We'recomfortable, so why can't you let us alone? I like the life as it is."
"You'll live faster after we get going," chuckled Wimperley.
"Perhaps, but we won't live so long. I've had a lot of men through myhands who tried to live faster, and it didn't agree with them--not thatI'm meaning--" The rest was lost in a riot of laughter, out of whichWimperley's voice became audible.
"If things go as we propose and expect, the people of St. Marys willprofit very considerably,--there will be remarkable opportunities."
"Meaning that,--" a new light flickered in Manson's black eyes for afraction of a second and disappeared.
"Meaning that during the transformation of a village into a city anumber of interesting changes take place."
"Maybe, but such things can't affect me very much."
"Well, possibly not, but I've an idea they will. I'm afraid we can'tlet St. Marys alone, Mr. Manson, and a little later on you'llunderstand why. This land, for instance, between us and t
he river, isvacant."
Manson's eye slowly traversed the two hundred yard width of the openfield that lay just south of the road. It was perhaps half way betweenthe rapids and the center of the village.
"Yes, I think Worden owns it, but I know that no one wants it."
"Ah!" said Stoughton with a little laugh; "and now we must be gettingon. Good-by, and thank you for saving our lives, even if you have hada crack at our project."
There was a sound of laughing voices on the porch and a jangle ofsleigh bells that dwindled toward the village, but Manson did not seemto hear them. He stood blocking up the window, his hands thrust deepin his pockets, staring at the vacant lot across the street.
Dinner that night cost Belding much searching of soul. "There'll bethree more," Clark had said, and forgotten all about it, but when thePhiladelphians sat down Belding's heart sank. On the table was a legof mutton, placed hastily by an agitated servant lest it freeze betweenkitchen and dining room. Even while Belding carved it the gravy beganto stiffen. Behind Clark was a glowing fireplace, ineffectual againstthe outside temperature, the windows were white with frost and thewhole house seemed to creak.
"Have some mutton," said the young man desperately.
Riggs rubbed his thin hands. "Thanks, I'm very fond of mutton. Do youmind if I put on my overcoat? The floor seems a little cold." Hedisappeared and returned muffled to the ears.
"You'd better hurry up with your food," said Clark soberly. "The humanstomach cannot digest frozen sheep." He glanced at Wimperley andStoughton. "What's the matter with you fellows?"
The two visitors coughed and apologized and went in search of theirovercoats. Clark began to laugh. "And to think that you three aregoing back to furnaces and steam heat. Do you realize what Belding andI are going through on your behalf?"
They got through the meal somehow, but Belding was utterly abashed.The visitors played with the congealing mutton, poked at forbiddingpotatoes, absorbed large quantities of scalding tea and then hastenedback to the big stove. Belding felt a hand on his shoulder.
"It's my fault. We should have let them go to the hotel. I supposewe're used to it, they're not."
Presently, Wimperley began to yawn. "I'm going to bed."
Riggs glanced apprehensively upstairs, where it was even colder thanbelow. "I'm going to sleep in my clothes. My God! pajamas on a nightlike this. Clark, what are you made of?"
In ten minutes the big stove was deserted, and Clark went from room toroom tucking in his shivering visitors.
V.--THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA
It was not till spring came and the earth relaxed her stiff andreappearing bones that Clark really got to work, and then arrived thefirst battalions of that great influx which was soon to follow. Up atthe rapids men and machinery became visible as though by magic.Belding had a curious sensation as he saw the product of his formerplans well nigh obliterated in the larger excavation which now began totake shape. His earlier efforts took on their due proportion, and hesmiled at the contrast, reveling in his opportunity for the fullexercise of his ability. But it is probable that neither Belding norany others amongst the leading men who, in time, were gathered into theworks, realized to what a degree they were animated by the mesmericinfluence of Clark.
By this time Bowers, another local appointment, was the legalrepresentative of the Company, and the repository of great intentionswhich he guarded with scrupulous fidelity. Clark was redeeming hispromise not to import that which the town could provide. And then hemet the bishop.
He saw the broad-shouldered, black-coated figure contemplating a steamshovel that was gnawing at the rocky soil beside the rapids. Thebishop was a big man with a handsome head, well shaped legs adornedwith episcopal gaiters, and a broad, deep chest. It was universallyadmitted that a less ample breast could not have contained so great aheart.
"Good day, sir." Clark involuntarily lifted his hat. The bishop heldout a firm white hand. "I've heard of you, Mr. Clark, and am glad tosee that Mahomet has come to his mountain. It's a little like a fairytale to me."
"I hope it may prove as attractive."
"But I believe in fairies, we need them nowadays."
Clark smiled. "I'm afraid that St. Marys doesn't believe in them asyet, but I'll do what I can."
"I suppose you've met every one here in the course of the winter?"
"Most I think. As a matter of fact one hasn't much time."
"That's a new thing in winter in the North. Now show me what's goingon, I'm vastly interested."
There was nothing that could have suited Clark better, and the twotramped about for an hour. At the end of it they stood near the headof the rapids and watched a coughing dredge tear into the soft bottom.
"I used to come up here to fish," said the bishop thoughtfully, "andonce killed a six pound trout on a six ounce rod, but now you're doingthe fishing, and so it goes. Do you expect to begin operations in thewoods next winter?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll need some more missionaries. You're making a lot of workfor me, but I like it."
His companion glanced up with sudden interest. They both liked work.It had been evident for an hour past in the prelate's keen questions.It occurred to Clark that the influence of his own passion for creationpromised to affect a large number of people. But he had never dreamedof missionaries, and now the thought amused him.
"I see young Belding over there," said the bishop as the engineerpassed with a transit over his shoulder. "Yes, my chief engineer."
"A good chap and I'm glad he has the opening. I don't know that he'sgot much imagination, but a valuable man as I see him. I have anidea," he added quizzically, "that you will supply all the imaginationthat is necessary."
Clark laughed. "I hope to."
"Had I not gone into the church I would have been a writer or anengineer," said the bishop slowly. "They have always seemed kindredpursuits, and I should have liked to be able to point to somethingphysical and concrete and say 'I made it.'"
Clark was a little puzzled. He had it in mind that the bishop'sachievements would be, perhaps, more enduring than his own. He triedto put this into words.
The big man shook his head. "I hope I am making my mark, but who cansay? You affect the color of men's lives and I try to reach thecomplexion of their spirits." He paused for a moment, then added, "Butbetween us we ought to do something. Good-by, and I hope you'll cometo one of my garden parties. I hear you don't care for society, butyou'll like my strawberries, and in the meantime I trust that all willprosper. Even if St. Marys does not realize all this, does it matter?"
"Not in the slightest."
The bishop strode off. A few paces away he halted. "I'm no Moslem butI'm very glad to meet Mahomet," he called back; "good-by."
In June the general manager, for as such Clark was now known, gave aluncheon at the works, which was to remain long in the mind of at leastone of the participants. By this time he himself was beginning towithdraw to that seclusion which added much to the fascination of hispersonality. When his guests arrived they were turned over to Beldingfor a tour of inspection, and then, filled with interest and surprise,sat down to the meal Clark had had prepared in the small marquee. Nowhe appeared himself, the genius of the place, and sat at the head ofthe table.
Looking back at the curious relationship in which this man stood to thepeople of St. Marys, it seems that he liked them more than he cared toexpress, for the expression of any sentiment was strange to his lips.He could do much for them, and did it, while, at the same time, heasked nothing for himself. When not in action, Clark was particularlysilent, but when really in action he approached his subject withobvious joy and interest, and coupled with this was his naturalinstinct for impressive and dramatic situations. Something of this hadbeen recognized by Filmer and the others who came to lunch, so that,afterwards, when he threw out a hint, the only one on record, it metwith immediate attention. He was talking to Worden when his eye drewFilmer into
the conversation.
"I have been wondering whether any of you gentlemen have bought anyland?"
The effect was that of a stone thrown into a pool, and one could seethe ripples of interest spreading. But it was so unexpected that therefollowed a little silence, broken presently by a laugh from Filmer.
"What land?"
Clark waved a casual hand north and east. "Any land over there."
He got no immediate reply. The minds of his guests were traversing theflat fields in which cattle grazed, that lay between the rapids and thetown.
"You have seen to-day something of what we propose to do, but only someof it," he went on. "What's the present population of St. Marys?"
"About sixteen hundred," said Filmer thoughtfully.
"Well, gentlemen, assume that what you have seen is but the beginning,only the breaking of the ground. You may take it from me, you are safein that. The population of St. Marys, five years from to-day, shouldbe,--" here he paused for an impressive moment--"sixteen thousand, andin ten years, twenty-six thousand. Now where are those people going tolive? Mr. Manson, here, doesn't take me quite seriously, but you,Judge, can you answer me; or you, Mr. Filmer? A good deal of it willfall on your shoulders."
"I don't doubt you," answered the mayor, "but I can use all my money inmy business."
"As for me, I'm a government official and haven't any," added Worden,with a tinge of regret.
"Money has been borrowed before this"--Clark's tones were distinctlyimpersonal--"the bank is good and so is the future of the town, as Isee it."
"Why don't you buy some yourself?"
"I don't want any more money," said Clark very simply, "but, gentlemen,I don't assume that every one feels that way. From this window I cansee farm lands that can be bought for forty dollars an acre on easyterms, and how would you feel if, after two or three years, it changedhands at a thousand? I merely mention this because I've seen it takeplace elsewhere. Now I'm not going to say that it's going to be wortha thousand, and I'm not persuading you. I never persuade any one, atleast," he added with a little smile, "not in St. Marys. I only drawyour attention to the circumstances and leave the rest of it, ofcourse, to your own judgment."
"Then you suggest that we buy?" came in Dibbott.
"Nothing of the kind. It's a matter of indifference to me whether yougentlemen do the buying or some one else. All I can prophesy is, thatit's going to be done, but not by me or my associates. We have enoughto occupy our attention for some time to come."
Manson edged a bit nearer. "The idea is that while you're investingmillions, we take no risk in investing hundreds, eh?"
"I made no such inference. You will remember that so far as St. Marysis concerned I have depended on the town for nothing since my firstproposal was accepted."
Dibbott nodded. "That's right. I reckon we're going to be aresidential suburb to the works."
Clark smiled a little. "I lean on just four things, and St. Maryssupplied none of them."
"What are they?"
"Natural laws, physical geography, ample financial backing, and theneed of the world for certain manufactured products. And," heconcluded quizzically, "you'd better forget that I said anything aboutland."
There was something suggestively final about this, and presently thegroup moved off, loitering across the flat, untenanted fields. Mansonwas in the rear, decapitating daisies with his heavy oak stick. A fewminutes later Clark looked up and saw the chief constable's bulkfilling the doorway. He waited placidly.
"Did you mean just what you said about that land?" Manson's voicesounded a little sheepish, "because I've got a bit saved up, and--"
"Mr. Manson," struck in Clark, "you may approve of me personally, but Iknow that you don't believe in my project. You've been at no pains toconceal that and I respect you for it, but that being the case whyshould you, of all men, be interested in land? No, no, don't protest.I don't mind what you think and you've a perfect right to your ownopinion. What did I say about land? Did I advise you to buy?"
"No, but you evidently wondered why we didn't."
Clark laughed outright. "I wonder at many things, that's my privilege,and anything I said just now is in contradiction to your judgment. Youstrike me as being a man of strong views, so by all means hold on tothem."
But Manson's eyes were turned fixedly on the main chance and he couldnot look away. "Of course, I may be wrong," he began awkwardly, "but--"
"And, of course, I may be too, and now you'll excuse me, I've a gooddeal to attend to."
Very slowly the chief constable took his way to town. Like many whocame in contact with Clark he had conceived the impression of a strongand piercing intelligence that, while it gave out much, withheld more;and it was what he imagined was withheld that now piqued and stimulatedthe austerely masked project he had had in view ever since Clark'sdirectors had so breezily invaded his office months before. Mansonwas, in truth, an example of those who, externally impassive andunemotional, harbor at times a secret and consuming thought at variancewith all outward semblance, and, keeping this remotely hidden, feed itwith all the concentrated fire of an otherwise inactive imagination.That afternoon he quietly secured an option on a portion of the fieldsacross which he walked so stolidly, and, with this as a beginning,turned his thoughts to the acquisition of more and more land.Simultaneously his expressed views on the outcome of Clark's activitiesbecame more pessimistic than ever.
Early that summer the streets of St. Marys were torn with trenches andthe glass fronts of the wooden stores trembled with the vibration ofblasting. The pipe lines followed exactly the route laid out by theblue prints Belding had long since deposited with the town council, andso well known was this route that the slightest variation would havebeen pounced upon instantly. Clark, it appeared, did not take muchinterest in the work, but turned it over entirely to the engineer, hisown imagination having moved to other things.
New faces in the town ceased to create comment, and, what was more tothe point, mention of St. Marys began to appear in metropolitan papers.These were read with the peculiar thoroughness of those who, for thefirst time, found themselves of definite interest to the outside world.Simultaneously the air became full of prophecy, rambling and inchoate.The citizens had not yet come to regard developments as being in anyparticular their own. They had--for the best reasons--put no money in,but now began to profit by changed conditions. The works were still athing apart, a new and somewhat romantic area from which anything,however startling, might any day materialize. Sometimes a few Indianspaddled up to trade and, leaving Filmer's store, would slip silently upstream, and edging into the backwater at the foot of the rapids, laytheir paddles across the thwarts and stare silently at the greatstructures that began to arise. And this, in a way, was the attitudeof most of the folk of St. Marys. They were in it but not of it, andthe long somnolence of the past was too tranquil to be easilydispelled. But in spite of their indifference the masterful hand ofClark had set the town definitely on the industrial map. A littlelater, the water was turned on and rows and rows of electric lightsglittered down the streets. It was just about this time that Clarksummoned Belding and told him that he desired a house.
This command was, in a way, so intimate that Belding looked foolish."What kind of a house?" he said awkwardly.
Clark leaned back in his chair. "You know how, years ago, the HudsonBay Company built block houses for their factors? Well, I want onesuch as the company used to build, and I expect to be ready to occupyit within six weeks."
Belding had learned not to ask too many questions, so, for a momentthought hard. "Where?" he ventured.
"You remember where the old Hudson Bay lock is,--just a hundred feetbeyond that. By the way, do you know how to build a block house?"
Belding got a little red. He had designed power houses and pulp millsand canals and head gates, but a block house baffled him.
"In those days," began Clark ruminatively, "they were places ofdefense. Tw
o stories, the bottom one of stone so that the Indianscouldn't set fire to it. That part is eight feet high and hadloopholes. On top is the other story built of logs, and, by the way, Iwant my logs peeled and varnished, and with a pitched roof. That partoverhangs the other by about five feet all round, and that was to makeit possible to drop things on the Indians if they did get up to theloopholes. Got the idea? And, by the way, I want the Hudson Bay lockcleaned out and rebuilt just as it was before. No cement--but randommasonry and gates of hewn timber--they hewed everything a hundred yearsago--grass around it and a sign saying what it was and when. Fix it upand make a job of it--that's all, and make that block house basement offield stone--you can see why."
Whereupon Clark turned to a pile of letters and telegrams and promptlyforgot all about Belding.
In six weeks, to a day, he moved in, and it is a question whether anyof his subsequent achievements occasioned such interest in St. Marys.Old inhabitants were there who had memories of the Hudson Bay Companyand the thirty foot bark canoes that once voyaged from Lake Superior,and, treading the upper reaches of a branch of the rapids, slid intothe old lock and were let gingerly down while the crew held theirpaddles against the rough stone walls of the tiny but ancient chamber.
Now the thing in its entirety had been recreated. The block house satsquat beside the lock, with its mushroom top projecting just as inyears before. Clark, it seemed, was, after all traditional, and notone who lived entirely in the future, and with this touch of romance hetook new attributes. His Japanese cook inhabited the lower storythrough which one entered to mount to the main floor. Inside the placerevealed the taste of the man of the world. It looked pigmy beside theenormous structures which began to rise hard by, but was all the morediminutively impressive. One passed it on the way to the works, andoften by night drifted out the sound of Clark's piano mingling with thedull boom of the rapids. For it would seem that these were the twovoices to which the brain of this extraordinary man took most heed.