CHAPTER XXVI
When Bob left the Mexican cotton gin after the interview with ReedyJenkins he had the feeling of furious futility which many a brave manhas felt under similar circumstances. Yonder, two hundred yards away,he could see American soldiers patrolling the border; yet so littleinfluence and so little fear did that big benign government wield overhere that he knew that scoundrel and his villainous Mexicanconfederates could ruin his fields, throw him in jail and, even asReedy threatened, bleach his bones on the sand, and no help come fromover there--not in time to save him.
And yet there must be ways. There were other Mexican officials thanthe thieving one that Reedy had bribed to protect his movements androbberies. There were some fair Mexicans; and there were others, evenif unfair, on whom the pressure of self-interest could surely bebrought to bear.
It was unfortunate, Bob reflected, that Jim Crill had bought up all thedebts against Jenkins' cotton. If these debts had been left scatteredamong the banks and stores and implement dealers, there would have beensome influential cooperation in his effort to get action from theMexican officials.
Bob went across the line and filed a long telegram to the StateDepartment at Washington outlining the situation and asking forassistance. Then he caught the train for Los Angeles, where he hadlearned the American consul at the nearest Mexican port, whom he knew,was on a vacation.
The consul was very indignant at the treatment Rogeen was receiving andpromised to investigate.
"Investigate!" Bob ran his fingers through his thick, sweaty hair, andunconsciously gave it a jerk. "But, man, I need water right now! It'sthe most critical time of the whole crop. Every day of delay means aloss of ten, fifteen, twenty thousand dollars."
"I know," said the consul; "but don't you see no officer can act merelyon the word of one man. We have to get evidence and forward it to thedepartment. If only I had the authority to act on my own initiative, Icould bring them to time in twenty-four hours."
"If you wired to the department for authority," suggested Bob,"couldn't you get it?"
The consul shook his head doubtfully. He really was impressed by Bob'sdesperate situation. "I'll try it, and I'll be down to-morrow to seewhat I can do."
Bob returned to Calexico with a little hope--not much but a little.Anyway, he was anxious to see the department's reply to his own appeal.But it had not replied. The Western Union operator was almost insultedthat Bob should imagine there was a message there for him.
Bob wrote another appeal, a little longer, and if possible more urgent,and fired that into Washington.
The consul came the following day. He interviewed the other ranchersand verified Bob's statements. He took affidavits, and made up quite abulky report and dispatched it by mail to Washington. In the meantimehe wired, briefly outlining the substance of his letter, and asked fortemporary authority to take measures that would force the Mexicanofficials to act.
Bob was fairly hopeful over this. He waited anxiously for twenty-fourhours for some answer. None came. This was the third day since hiscotton began to need water. The thermometer went to 131 at twoo'clock. No green plant could survive long without water.
He rode all day enlisting the cooperation of influential men in thevalley on the American side, and got several of them to send wires toWashington. Every night when he returned to Calexico he went eagerlyto the telegraph office; but each time the operator emphatically shookhis head. Then Bob laboured over another long telegram, begging forhaste; he paid nine dollars and forty cents toll and urged that themessage be rushed.
By the fifth day Rogeen was getting desperate. He returned to Calexicoat seven o'clock, jumped out of his car, and hurried into the telegraphoffice.
A message! A telegram for him at last! He had got action. Maybe evenyet he could save most of his crop. The message was collect--$1.62.He dropped two silver dollars on the counter and without noticing thechange tore open the message. It was from the department at Washingtonand was brief:
DEAR SIR:
If you file your complaints in writing, they will be referred to theproper department for consideration.
R. P. M., _Ass't to Sec. of State._
Then Bob gave up, turned about gloomily, and went out to his machine,and started south toward the Chandler ranch.