The World for Sale, Complete

  CHAPTER XXIII. THE RETURN OF BELISARIUS

  Grey days in the prairie country do not come very often, but they arevery depressing when they arrive. The landscape is not of the lusciouskind; it has no close correspondence with a picture by Corot orConstable; sunlight is needed to give it the touch of the habitableand the homelike. It was, therefore, unfortunate for the spirits of theLebanon people that the meeting summoned by local agitators to discusswith asperity affairs on both sides of the Sagalac should, whilestarting with fitful sunlight in the early morning, have developed to ableak greyness by three o'clock in the afternoon, the time set for themeeting.

  Another strike was imminent in the factories at Manitou and in therailway-shops at Lebanon, due to the stupidity of the policy ofIngolby's successor as to the railways and other financial andmanufacturing interests. If he had planned a campaign of maladroitnesshe could not have more happily fulfilled his object. It was not a goodtime for reducing wages, or for quarrelling with the Town Councils ofManitou and Lebanon concerning assessments and other matters. Novemberand May always found Manitou, as though to say, "upset." In the formermonth, men were pouring through the place on their way to the shantiesfor their Winter's work, and generally celebrating their cominginternment by "irrigation"; in the latter month, they were returningfrom their Winter's imprisonment, thirsty for excitement, and withmemories of Winter quarrels inciting them to "have it out of someone."

  And it was in October, when the shantyman was passing through on his wayto the woods--a natural revolutionary, loving trouble as a coyote loveshis hole--that labour discontent was practically whipped into action,and the Councils of the two towns were stung into bitterness against thenew provocative railway policy. Things looked dark enough. The troublebetween the two towns and the change of control and policy of therailways, due to Ingolby's downfall, had greatly shaken land andbuilding values in Lebanon, and a black eye, as it were, had been givento the whole district for the moment.

  So serious had the situation been regarded that the Mayor of Lebanon,with Halliday the lawyer and another notable citizen, all friends ofIngolby, had "gone East"--as a journey to Montreal, Toronto, or Quebecwas generally called--to confer with and make appeal to the directorateof the great railways. They went with some elation and hope, for theyhad arguments of an unexpected kind in their possession, carefullyhidden from the rest of the population. They had returned only the daybefore the meeting which was to be held in the square in front of theTown Hall, to find that a platform had been built at the very steps ofthe Town Hall with the assent of the Chief Constable, now recovered fromillness and returned to duty. To the Deputy Mayor and the Council, theChief Constable, on the advice of Gabriel Druse, had said that it wasfar better to have the meeting in front of the Town Hall where he could,on the instant, summon special constables from within if necessary,while the influence of a well-built platform and the orderly arrangementof a regular meeting were better than a mob oration from the tops ofash-barrels.

  The signs were ominous. In a day of sunshine the rebellious anddiscontented spirit does not thrive; on a wet day it is apt to takeshelter; on a bleak, grey day men are prone to huddle together in theiranger with consequent stimulation of their passions.

  It was a grey enough day at Lebanon, and dark-faced visitors fromManitou felt the need of Winter clothing as they shiveringly crossed theSagalac by Ingolby's bridge. The air was raw and searching; Nature wassulky. In the sharp wind the trees shook themselves angrily free ofleaves. The taverns were greatly frequented, which was not good forManitou and Lebanon. Up to the time of the meeting, however, theexpected strike had not occurred. This was mainly due to the fact thatFelix Marchand, the evil genius of Manitou, had not been seen in thetown or in the district for over a week. It was not generally known thathe was absent because a man by the name of Dennis, whose wife he hadwronged, was dogging him with no good intent. Marchand had treated thewoman's warning with contempt, but at sight of her injured husband hehad himself withdrawn from the scene of his dark enterprises. His maligninfluence was therefore not at work at the moment.

  The tactics of the Lebanon Town Council had been careful and wise. Sothat the meeting should not be composed only of the roughest elements,they privately urged all responsible citizens to attend, and if possiblecapture the meeting for law and order and legitimate agitation. Thatwas why Osterhaut, the town-crier, went about with a large dinner-bellannouncing the hour of the meeting and admonishing all "good folks" toattend. No one had ever seen Osterhaut quite so cheerful--and he hada bonny cheerfulness on occasion--as on this grisly October day whenNature was very sour and the spirit of the winds was in a "scratchy"mood. But Osterhaut was not more cheerful than Jowett who, in a veryundignified way, described the state of his feelings, on receiving acertain confidence from Halliday, the lawyer, and Gabriel Druse, byturning a cart-wheel in the Mayor's office; which certainly was anunusual thing in a man of fifty years of age.

  It was a people's meeting. No local official was on the platform. Underthe influence of alien elements who, though their co-operation wasdirected against the common enemy, were intensely irritating, themeeting became disorderly. One or two wise men, however, were able tosecure order long enough to have the resolution passed for forming aLocal Interests Committee whose duty it would be to see that the peoplewere not sacrificed to a "soulless plutocracy." While the names ofthose who were to form the Committee were being selected, in a storm ofdisorder arising from the Manitou section of the crowd, the sky overheadgrew suddenly brighter and the sun came out, bringing an instant change.It was as though a hand, which had hypnotized them into anger, restoredthem to good-humour once again.

  At this moment, to the astonishment of all, there appeared at the backof the platform between Jowett and Halliday the lawyer, the man witha tragic history who had been as one buried for weeks past, who hadvanished from their calculations. It was their old champion, Ingolby.Slowly a hush came over the vast assembly as, apparently guided byhis friends on the platform, he was given a seat on the right of theChairman's table.

  A strange sensation, partly pleasure, partly resentment, passed throughthe crowd. Why did Ingolby come to remind them of better days gone--ofhis own rashness, of what they had lost through that rashness? Whyhad he come? They could not say and do all that they wanted with himpresent. It was like having a row in the presence of a corpse. He hadbeen a hero to all in Lebanon, but he was not in the picture now. Hisday was done. It was no place for him. Yet it was a pleasant omen thatthe sun broke clear and shining over the platform as Ingolby tookhis seat. Presently in the silence he half-turned his head, murmuredsomething to the Chairman, and then got to his feet, stretching out ahand towards the crowd.

  For one moment there was silence, a little awestricken, a littlepainful, and then as from one man a great cheer went up. For a momentthey had thought him inconsiderate to come among them in this crisis,for he was no longer of their scheme of things, and must be counted out,a beaten, battered, blind bankrupt. Yet the sight of him on his feetwas too much for them. Blind he might be, but there was the personalitywhich had conquered them in the past brave, adroit, reckless, renowned.None of them, or very few of them, had seen him since that night atBarbazon's Tavern, yet in spite of his tragedy there seemed littlechange in him. There was the same quirk at the corner of the mouth, thesame humour in the strong face, not so ruddy now; and strangely enoughthe eyes were neither guarded by spectacles, nor were they shrunken,glazed, or diseased, so far as could be seen.

  Stretching out a hand, Ingolby gave a crisp laugh and said: "So there'sbeen trouble since I've been gone, has there?" The corner of his mouthquirked, his eyelids drooped in the old quizzical way, and the crowdlaughed in spite of themselves. What a spirit he had to take it all thatway!

  "Got a little deeper in the mire, have you, boys?" he added. "They tellme the town's a frost just now, but it seems nice and warm here in thesun. Yes, boys, it's nice and warm here among you all--the same good oldcrowd that's made the two towns what
they are. The same good old crowd,"he repeated, "--and up to the same old games!"

  At this point he could scarcely proceed for laughter. "Like truepioneers," he went on, "not satisfied with what you've got, but wantingsuch a lot more--if I might say so in the language of the dictionary, adeuce of a lot more."

  Almost every sentence had been punctuated by cheers. His personalitydominated them as aforetime with some new accent to it; his voice waslike that of one given up from the dead, yet come back from the warsalive and loving. They never knew what a figure he was until now whenthey saw and heard him again, and realized that he was one of thefew whom the world calls leaders, because they have in them thatimmeasurable sympathy which is understanding of men and matters. Yet inthe old days there never had been the something that was in hisvoice now, and in his face there was a great friendliness, a sense ofcompanionship, a Jonathan and David something. He was like a comradetalking to a thousand other comrades. There was a new thing in him andthey felt it stir them. They thought he had been made softer by hisblindness; and they were not wrong. Even the Manitou section werestilled into sympathy with him. Many of them had heard his speech inBarbazon's Tavern just before the horseshoe struck him down, and theyheard him now, much simpler in manner and with that something in hisvoice and face. Yet it made them shrink a little, too, to see his blindeyes looking out straight before him. It was uncanny. Their idea wasthat the eyes were as before, but seeing nothing-blank to the world.

  Presently his hand shot out again. "The same old crowd!" he said. "Justthe same--after the same old thing, wanting what we all want: these twoplaces, Manitou and Lebanon, to be boosted till they rule the West anddominate the North. It's good to see you all here again"--he spoke veryslowly--"to see you all here together looking for trouble--looking fortrouble. There you are, Jim Barager; there you are, Bill Riley; thereyou are, Mr. William John Thomas McLeary." The last named was the buttof every tavern and every street corner. "There you are, Berry--oldbrown Berry, my barber."

  At first the crowd did not quite understand, did not realize that he wasactually pointing to the people whom he named, but presently, as Berrythe barber threw up his hands with a falsetto cry of understanding,there was a simultaneous, wild rush forward to the platform.

  "He sees, boys--he sees!" they shouted.

  Ingolby's hand shot up above them with a gesture of command.

  "Yes, boys, I see--I see you all. I'm cured. My sight's come back, andwhat's more"--he snatched from his pocket a folded sheet of paper andheld it aloft "what's more, I've got my commission to do the old jobagain; to boss the railways, to help the two towns. The Mayor brought itback from Montreal yesterday; and together, boys, together, we'll makeManitou and Lebanon the fulcrum of the West, the swivel by which toswing prosperity round our centre."

  The platform swayed with the wild enthusiasm of the crowd storming itto shake hands with him, when suddenly a bell rang out across the river,wildly, clamorously. A bell only rang like that for a fire. Those on theplatform could see a horseman galloping across the bridge.

  A moment later someone shouted, "It's the Catholic church at Manitou onfire!"