CHAPTER XXIV
TOOMEY GOES INTO SOMETHING
Few in Prouty denied that there were forty-eight hours in the day thatbegan about six o'clock on Saturday night and lasted until the same hourMonday morning. If there had been some way of taking a mild anestheticto have carried them through this period, many no doubt would haveresorted to it, for oblivion was preferable to consciousness during aSunday in Prouty.
It could not, strictly, be called a Day of Rest, because there was notsufficient business during the week to make any one tired enough to needit.
When the church bells tinkled, the Episcopalians bowed patronizingly tothe Presbyterians, the Presbyterians condescendingly recognized theMethodists, the Methodists, by a slight inclination of the head,acknowledged the existence of the Catholics. This done, the excitementof the day was over.
The footsteps of a chance pedestrian echoed in Main Street like some onewalking in a tunnel. Children flattened their noses against the panesand looked out wistfully upon a world that had no joy in it.
The gloom of financial depression hung over Prouty like a crepe veil. IfProuty spent Sunday waiting for Monday, it spent the rest of the weekwaiting for something to happen. Prouty's attitude was one ofhalfhearted expectancy--like a shipwrecked sailor knowing himselfoutside the line of travel, yet unable to resist watching the horizonfor succor.
The Boosters Club still went on boosting, but its schemes forself-advertisement resembled a defective pin-wheel, which, after thefirst whiz, lacks the motive powers to turn further. The motive power inthis instance was money. Prouty wanted money with the same degree ofintensity that the parched Lazarus wanted water.
Real estate owners in Prouty regarded their property without enthusiasm,for there were few residences not ornamented with a "plaster" in theform of a mortgage. Abram Pantin's boast that he never "held the sack"was heard but seldom, for there was more than a reasonable doubt that hewas able to collect the interest on his farm mortgages, to say nothingof the principal.
The town was at a stage when merely to eat and go on wearing clothes wascause for self-congratulation. It was conceded that a person who couldexist in Prouty could live anywhere. Its citizens seemed to partake ofthe nature of the cactus that, grubbed up and left for dead, alwaysmanages somehow to get its roots down again.
The Prouty _Grit_ still called the attention of the world to thecountry's natural resources, but Mr. Butefish's editorials had a hollowring, like the "spiel" of the sideshow barker, who talks in anticipationof a swift kick from a dissatisfied patron.
Major Prouty, who had hoped to die in his boots, picturesquely, hadpassed away quietly in his bed with acute indigestion from eatingsour-dough sinkers of his own manufacture. It was cold the day he wasburied, so not many went to the funeral, and the board which had beenput up to mark his grave, until the town could afford a suitablemonument, had blown over. A "freighter" had repaired his brake blockwith a portion of the marker, so no one except the grave digger was surewhere the Major lay.
Jasper Toomey at this period of his career was engaged in the realestate business. About ninety per cent of Prouty's residences werelisted with him. In the beginning, while taking descriptions of theproperties and making a confidential note of the lowest possible sumswhich would be accepted, he was busy and optimistic. But, thiscompleted, business subsided suddenly. His few inquiries for propertiescame from buyers who had no cash available. The breath he expended in"working up deals" which came to nothing when the critical point wasreached would have floated a balloon.
Toomey had no office, but conducted his affairs in winter from the chairby the radiator in the southwest corner of the Prouty House. In summer,he moved to the northeast corner of the veranda. To borrow five dollarsnowadays was a distinct achievement, and his sallow face had taken onthe habitual expression of a hungry wolf waiting for strays andweaklings. Mrs. Toomey still anticipated the day when "Jap would getinto something."
As much worse as was Sunday than Monday, just so much worse was winterthan summer in Prouty. Winter meant more coal, warmer clothes,high-priced food, and a period of hibernating until it was over. So itwas in a kind of panic that Prouty suddenly realized that fall had comeand another winter would soon be upon them. Thus, in a mood ofdesperation, the officers of the Boosters Club sent out notice of animportant meeting to its members. It was urged most earnestly that eachshould come prepared to offer a new suggestion for the improvement offinancial conditions in Prouty. The fact that the need was thus publiclyadmitted evidenced the urgency of the situation.
It seemed as though every plan that human ingenuity could devise hadbeen already discussed, and shelved for the very excellent reason thatthere never was any capital with which to give the projects a try-out.While the members subscribed with glad and openhanded generosity, tocollect the subscriptions was another matter.
Heretofore suggestions had come sporadically; now it was believed thatas the concentrated wills of powerful minds are alleged to have movedinanimate objects, somewhat in the same fashion concerted effort on thepart of the Boosters Club might result in something tangible.
The meeting was called for Monday night, and with only twenty-four hoursin which to think of something for Prouty's salvation, the heads ofhouseholds taxed their brains diligently for an original idea to offer.
No such perturbation obtained in the Toomey family, however, where Mr.and Mrs. Toomey chattered in gay excitement, the like of which they hadnot experienced since their memorable trip to Chicago. With his handsthrust deep in his trousers pockets, Toomey swaggered, resemblingnothing so much as a pheasant strutting and drumming on a log for hismate's edification, and, not unlike the female bird of sober coloring,Mrs. Toomey looked and listened with a return of much of her old-timeadmiration, though the cause for Toomey's present state of exultationwas, in its inception, due to her own suggestion.
"I'll show these pinheads something," Toomey boasted. "The day'llcome," he levelled at his wife an impressive finger, "when they'll nudgeeach either and say, 'There goes Toomey's Dog!'"
Mrs. Toomey sighed happily, "It's like a story!"
"Nothing comes to you unless you go after it," Toomey declared, in thevoice of a man who has succeeded and is giving the benefit of hisexperience to the less fortunate.
"I wish you could be there when I spring it," he chortled.
Yet the occasion for this rare exuberance in the Toomey family wasmerely a few courteous lines signed "John Prentiss," inside thebusinesslike blue-gray envelope resting conspicuously on top of theclock on the mantelpiece. They had read and re-read it, extracting fromit the last ounce of encouragement possible.
Mrs. Toomey had come across John Prentiss's card in a drawer she wascleaning and the thought had come to her that therein lay a possibilitywhich never had been tested. After all these years it might not bepossible to reach him, and when he was found it might not be possible toderive any benefit from the scant acquaintance, but it was worth trying,and if there was a way, Jap would find it, so she had shown him the cardand he had joined her in marveling at their negligence.
After due reflection, Toomey had written to Prentiss recalling thecircumstances of their meeting and the fact that he had evidenced aninterest in their country, and renewing his invitation for a visit. Hewent at some length into the details of the defunct irrigation projectat Prouty, which if properly completed and managed was a sure and bigwinner. He had options on stock which gave him the controlling interest,he stated, and had little doubt that the remainder could be acquiredeasily. He urged Prentiss to come at his earliest convenience and lookit over.
Toomey sent the letter to the hotel in Chicago which Prentiss had givenas one of his permanent addresses and it was duly forwarded. After thelapse of a reasonable time, the answer had come from Denver. It hadcontained proper expressions of appreciation for the invitation, a wishto be remembered cordially to Mrs. Toomey, and concluded with thestatement that his desire to see that section of the country had in nowise abated and, if possible
, he would do so in the early winter, atwhich time he would be glad to look into the merits of the irrigationproject.
Noncommittal, but friendly, the letter sent the blood racing throughToomey's veins like a stiff drink of brandy. It stimulated hisimagination like strong coffee and evoked the roseate dreams ofhasheesh. Even Mrs. Toomey, cautious and conservative as she was bynature and through many disappointments, could not resist the contagionof her husband's enthusiasm.
To say that Toomey looked forward with eagerness to this meeting of theBoosters Club is to express it inadequately. He counted the hours whenhe should be reinstated in the position which he had occupied when hefirst came to Prouty. Unexpressed, but none the less present, was adesire to show his teeth at those who had humiliated him by lending himmoney.
The Boosters Club now occupied a storeroom which it had rent free untilsuch time as its owner should acquire a tenant. This privilege had beengranted some three years previous, and there seemed no imminent dangerof the club being obliged to vacate.
Behind a fly-specked window an equally fly-specked sheaf of wheat fromNorth Dakota, and an ear of corn of gargantuan proportions from Kansas,proclaimed the Club's belief that similar results might be obtained fromthe local soil--when it had water. There was a sugar beet of amazingcircumference that had been raised in an adjacent county, and a bottleof sand that the Club was certain contained a rare mineral, if it werepossible to get an honest assay on it. They exhibited also a can ofpulverized gypsum, of which there was a sufficient quantity in sight inthe vicinity to polish the brass trimmings of the world's navies, if a"live wire" could be induced to take hold of its development. Aminiature monument of rock faintly stained with copper rose in thecenter of the window, and a buffalo skull lent a note of historicinterest.
The walls inside were decorated with the Club's slogan, "Boost forProuty." The undertaker's chairs were still doing duty, since there wasso much truth in that person's plaintive wail that "the climate was sodamned healthy that nobody ever died," there was seldom other use forthem.
There was a pine table upon a raised platform, behind which HiramButefish remained, as before, the Club's honored President.
In the corner was a stove which had been donated by the Methodistminister, because, presumably, of a refractory grate which it was foundimpossible to operate without profanity.
Into these comfortable and spacious quarters, a goodly number ofProuty's representative citizens came singly and in squads upon theoccasion of this important meeting.
Each member had kept his own solution of Prouty's problem closelyguarded, so no man knew what his neighbor had to offer until that one'sturn came to divulge it. In truth, it had been a long time since ameeting of such piquancy and interest had been called.
After some little preliminary business, Hiram Butefish, with a candorwhich never before had distinguished his public utterances upon thissubject, declared flatly that Prouty was in a precarious, not to saydesperate, condition. The county treasury was empty, the town treasurywas empty, and the warrants of either had little more value than thestock certificates of an abandoned gold mine. What were they going to doabout it? Should they sit quietly and starve like a lost tribewandering in the desert? Did they wish to see their wives naked andtheir children hungry? No! Mr. Butefish smote the table until the crackin the water pitcher lengthened. Then by all that was Great and Good,somebody had to think of something!
Mr. Butefish had only said what everybody knew, but his manner of sayingit sent a chill over every one present.
"Doc" Fussel, whose sales during the day had been a package of ratpoison and a bottle of painkiller, looked like a lemon that has lain toolong in the window, when he arose and diffidently offered his suggestionfor the relief of Prouty. The doctor's voice when he was frightened hadthe rich sonorous tones of a mouse squeaking in the wall, and now as heventured the suggestion that Prouty's hope lay in raising peppermint,his voice was inaudible beyond the fifth row of chairs. In the rear ofthe room they caught the words "mint" and "still," and were under theimpression that he was advocating the manufacture of counterfeit moneyand moonshine whiskey. As a matter of fact, the doctor advised thepurchase of large tracts of land which could be flooded and transformedinto bogs. These bogs were to be planted in peppermint, for which, heaverred, there was an insatiable demand. The world had yet to have toomuch peppermint. So long as there were babies there would be colic, andso long as there was colic there would be a need for peppermint;therefore, reasoning along the dotted line from A to Z, there alwayswould be a market. Peppermint was the one industry requiring smallcapital which had not been overdone. He could go to Illinois andpurchase a secondhand still of which he knew, at small cost. A bottlingworks for preparing and labeling the essence could be established inProuty, and there was no reason why, in time, Prouty should not becomethe recognized peppermint center of America.
When the doctor sat down, after giving the back of the chair which hegripped a farewell wring that all but tore it loose from its sockets,Mr. Butefish arose and congratulated him upon the novelty of hissuggestion and recommended that it be investigated carefully.
There was excellent reason to believe that Walter Scales, at no remotedate, had been handling kerosene and saltfish, for the air in hisvicinity was redolent of these commodities as he arose when called uponas the next in order.
Before speaking of the remedy for the present stagnant condition of "thefairest spot that the sun ever shone upon," Mr. Scales stated that hewished to protest thus publicly against the practice which now obtainedof pitching horseshoes in the main street of Prouty. There was nothing,he declared vehemently, which made so bad an impression upon a strangeras to see the leading citizens of a community pitching horseshoes in itsprincipal thoroughfare.
Passing on to the purpose for which he had risen, Mr. Scales averredthat it was probable that he would be considered an impracticalvisionary when he made known his proposition; nevertheless, it had beenlong in his mind and no harm would come from voicing it. To his notion,the thing most needed to revitalize Prouty was an electric car-line.This line should start at the far end of town, somewhere down by theDouble Cross Livery Stable, possibly, and end at an artificial lake andamusement park a few miles out in the country--he waved his arm vaguely.A street car whizzing through Prouty would put new life in it, and sohungry were its inhabitants for entertainment that he had no doubtwhatever that the amusement park would make ample returns upon theinvestment.
Mr. Butefish made a note of Mr. Scales's vision, but very muchquestioned as to whether Prouty was ripe for a street railway, since--headmitted reluctantly--such a project might be a little ahead of theimmediate requirements.
Other suggestions followed--among them, the possibility of opening up anoutcropping of marble in a canyon sixteen miles from Prouty. The marble,though badly streaked with yellow, would, it was opined, serveexcellently for tombstones. Also, there was a clay peculiar to a certaingulch in the vicinity which was believed by the discoverer to containthe necessary qualities for successful brick-making.
Then "Gov'nor" Sudds arose in a flattering silence to give the Club thebenefit of his cogitations. Something large always could be expected ofthe "Gov'nor." Although he lived in three figures, he thought in seven,and not one of the Gov'nor's many projects had been capitalized at lessthan a million.
Conrad has said that listening to a Russian socialist is much likelistening to a highly accomplished parrot--one never can rid himself ofthe suspicion that he knows what he is talking about. The same, attimes, applied to the Gov'nor. He said nothing so convincingly thatalways it was received with the closest attention.
Now, as Sudds stood up, large, grave and impressive, he looked like aRoman Senator about to address a gathering in the Forum. No one presentcould dream from his manner that he had that day received a shock, theviolence of which could best be likened to a well-planted blow in thepit of the stomach. As a hardy perennial candidate for political office,he had become inured to disappointment, but the p
resent shock had beenof such an unexpected nature that for hours Mr. Sudds had been in astate little short of groggy. The maiden aunt of seventy, upon whoseliberal remembrance he had built his hopes as the Faithful hug tothemselves the promise of heaven, had married a street car conductor andwired for congratulations. He had pulled himself together and staggeredto the meeting where, though still with the sinking sensation of a manwho has inadvertently stepped through the plastering of the ceiling, hewas able to dissemble successfully.
Clearing his throat, the Gov'nor fixed his eyes upon "Hod" Deefendorf,owner of the Double Cross Livery Stable, and demanded:
"Among all the voices of Nature is there a more pleasing or varied soundthan that of falling water?"
He paused as though he expected an answer, so "Hod" squirmed andventured weakly that he "guessed there wasn't."
The Gov'nor continued: "The gentle murmur of the brook, the noisy rumbleof rapids, the thundering roar of mighty cataracts--can you beat it?" Ina country where the school children giggled at sight of an umbrella, thequestion seemed irrelevant, so this time no one replied.
"Consider the rivulet as it glints and glistens in ceaseless change, thefairy mists of shimmering cascades, the majestic sweep ofwaterfalls--has Nature any force more potent for the use of man thanfalling water? No! None whatever! And I propose that we yoke theseracing tumbling forces back there in yon mountains and make them workfor us!"
The members exchanged glances--the Gov'nor was living up to theirexpectations of him.
"That accomplished, I propose," the Governor declared dramatically, "totake nitrogen from the air and sell it to the government!"
He looked triumphantly into the intent upturned faces into which hadcrept a look of blankness. There were those who thought vaguely thatnitrogen was the scientific name for mosquito, while others confused itwith nitre, an excellent emergency remedy for horses.
"They've done it in Germany," he continued, "and used it in themanufacture of high explosives. Is there any gentleman present who willtell me that what's been done in Germany, can't be done in Wyoming?"
The applause was tumultuous when he had further elucidated and finished.To get something out of nothing made a strong appeal to Prouty. It wascriminal for Sudds to waste his abilities in a small community. Theywondered why he did it.
Hiram Butefish, who succeeded the orator, felt a quite naturaldiffidence in giving to the Club his modest suggestion, but as he talkedhe warmed to his subject.
"I am convinced," declared Mr. Butefish, "that the future of Prouty liesin fossils."
"Human?" a voice inquired ironically.
"Clams," replied Mr. Butefish with dignity. "Also fish and periwinkles.Locked in Nature's boozem over there in the Bad Lands there's a world ofthem. I kicked 'em up last year when I was huntin' horses, and realizedtheir value. They'd go off like hot cakes to high schools andcollectors. We could get a professor in here cheap--a lunger, maybe--toclassify 'em, and then we'd send out our own salesman. We can advertiseand create a market.
"Gentlemen," solemnly, "we have not one iota of reason to bediscouraged! With thousands of acres available for peppermint; withmore air to the square inch than any place else in the world, with aninexhaustible bed of fossils under our very noses, all we need tofulfill the dreams of our city's founder is unity of effort and capital.In other words--MONEY!"
"And the longer you stay in Prouty the more you'll need it!"
The jeering voice from the rear of the room belonged to Toomey.
The Club turned its head and looked at the interrupter in astonishment.He was sitting in the high-headed arrogance with which once upon a timethey had all been familiar. Though momentarily disconcerted, Mr.Butefish collected himself and retorted:
"Perhaps you have something better to offer, Toomey."
"If I hadn't I wouldn't offer it," he replied insolently.
The thought that came instantly to every mind was that Toomey must havehad a windfall. How else account for this sudden independence? Thispossibility tempered the asperity of Mr. Butefish's answer, though itstill had plenty of spirit:
"We are ready to acknowledge your--er--originality, Mr. Toomey, and willbe delighted to listen."
To Toomey it was a rare moment. He enjoyed it so keenly that he wishedhe might prolong it. Uncoiling his long legs, he surveyed his auditorswith a tolerant air of amusement:
"I presume there are no objections to my mentioning a few of the flawsthat I see in the schemes which have been outlined?"
"Our time is limited," hinted Mr. Butefish.
"It won't take long to puncture those bubbles," Toomey answered,contemptuously.
Certainly he had made a raise somewhere!
"We will hear your criticisms," replied Mr. Butefish, with the restraintof offended dignity.
"In the first place, everybody knows that the soil in this country soursand alkalies when water stands on it." Toomey spoke as a man who hadwide experience. He looked at "Doc" Fussel, who shrivelled with thechagrin that filled him, when Toomey added, "That settles the peppermintbog, doesn't it?
"Take the next proposition: What's the use of car-lines that beginnowhere and end nowhere? A cripple could walk from one end of the townto the other in seven minutes. You couldn't raise enough outside capitalto buy the spikes for it.
"Take fossils--a school boy would know that the demand for fossils islimited, and who is sure that the bed is inexhaustible until it'stested. When the government is taking nitrates out of the air in Proutyto make ammunition, you and I will be under the daisies, Governor."
If looks could kill, Toomey would have died standing. But he continuedemphatically:
"The salvation of Prouty is water. By water I mean the completion of theirrigation project. Gentlemen--I am here to state unreservedly that Ican put that enterprise through, providing the stockholders will give mean option upon fifty-one per cent. of the stock. I must have thecontrolling interest."
Could he have an option? _Could_ he! Only the restraining hand of aneighbor upon his coat tail prevented Walt Scales from hurdling theintervening chairs to reach Toomey to thrust his shares upon him. Hopeand skepticism of the genuineness of his assertions commingled in thefaces upon which Toomey looked, while he waited for an answer. He sawthe doubt and took Prentiss's letter from his pocket. Shaking it atthem, he declared impressively:
"This communication is from a party I have interested--an old friend ofmine of wealth and standing, who will finance the project providing itis as represented, and under the condition I have just mentioned."Toomey himself so thoroughly believed what he said that he carriedconviction, although nowadays his veracity under oath would have beenquestioned.
The prospect of unloading his stock made Hiram Butefish as thirsty as ifhe had eaten herring, and, overlooking the glass in his excitement, hedrank long and deep from the water pitcher before he said tremulously:
"Undoubtedly that can be arranged, Mr. Toomey."
It was obvious that the Boosters Club shared its president's opinion.Each quivered with an eagerness to get at Toomey which was not unlikethat of a race horse fretting to be first over the starting line. Theycrowded around him when the meeting was ended, offering theircongratulations and their stock to him, but taking care to avoid anymention of the various sums that he owed each and all.
As for Toomey, it was like the old days when his appearance upon thestreets of Prouty was an event, when they called him "Mister" andtouched their hat-brims to him, when he could get a hearing withoutblocking the exit.
He left the Boosters Club with his pulses bounding with pride andimportance. He had "come back"--as a man must who has imagination andinitiative. They could "watch his smoke," could Prouty.
There was not a member present who did not reach his home panting, toshake his wife out of her slumbers to tell her that, at last, Toomey had"got into something."