CHAPTER NINE
The Rio Vista was the famous hostelry of Ysleta. With full appreciation of the truth of the old adage that the path to a man's heart leads through his stomach, the promoters of the Ysleta boom had built a gorgeous edifice and equipped it with a cuisine not equalled west of the Mississippi. It is true that their artistic palates were not so finely educated as were their gastronomic, but the glitter of plate glass windows and the constant warfare of hostile colors, affected not at all the delicate viands which were placed before the guests. Since her connection with the Las Cruces, Helen Lonsdale had made this palace her home.
As she ascended the steps of the Rio Vista, after her return from the Berl ranch, Helen's attention was attracted to an old man who was seated near the head of the broad stone steps that led to the broader verandah. He seemed utterly out of harmony with his surroundings. His clothes were not shabby, but they were evidently worn more with an eye to the useful than to the ornamental. The heavy boots were wrinkled and worn, yet solid, and the blacking suggested a reluctant concession to custom rather than to a sense of propriety. His trousers were baggy and his coat hung in loose folds from a pair of broad, square shoulders. A white shirt was topped by a high old-fashioned collar, held by a flowing tie of navy blue. These incongruities, in sharp contrast to the finished specimens of well-groomed humanity who circled around him, first attracted Helen. It was the face that compelled from her more than a passing notice.
As she looked at the face, more especially the eyes, a sense of relief from oppression, an almost irresistible impulse to laughter came over her. It was not ridicule, but a light-hearted response to the contagious humor radiating from every line and wrinkle. Yet the weathered face, with its closely-cropped fringe of gray beard, resting like a sphere on the sharp lips of the high collar, carried the conviction that the mobile lines could set hard as frozen metal, that the humorous eyes, deep beneath overhanging brows, could pierce like sharpened steel. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the eyes seemed to answer her own and the face to turn as as she passed, in order to prolong the interchange of wordless messages.
Later in the day Helen was seated apart from the crowd in the rotunda. She wanted to get away from herself but there was no desire to seek companionship. Consequently she was annoyed at the sound of footsteps which evidently had her for an object. She was more annoyed when a chair was dragged from its position and thrust beside her own. She did not even turn her head when she heard a slump in the chair which testified that the intruder intended to maintain his position. With no preliminary cough, a rugged voice remarked:
"Pretty considerable goin' on in these parts, if 'tis three thousand miles from nowhere, an' a hard road at that."
Helen's annoyance vanished. She turned brightly to the old man.
"Please excuse me. I didn't know who it was till you spoke."
"If you know now, you've got the advantage 'o me, in one sense. I'm Uncle Sid Harwood, retired sea captain, at present cruisin' for pleasure."
Helen bowed with sedate humor.
"I'm Helen Lonsdale and nothing in particular."
Uncle Sid Harwood surveyed his companion leisurely.
"First time I ever found nothin' in particular worth while. You come from around here?"
"Yes, I'm Californian, born and bred."
"Glad to know it. I've been lyin' at anchor here some days lookin' for a pilot. I reckoned you knew the harbor. Met a young fellow by the name o' Berl?"
"Elijah Berl?" Helen asked in surprise.
"That's him."
"Why yes, of course I have. He's president of the Las Cruces Irrigation Company."
"Praisin' the Lord an' callyhootin' around like a sky rocket with its tail a-fire?" pursued Uncle Sid.
Helen laughed at the apt though rather superficial analogy.
"Yes, but he's not all fire and fizz after all. He is doing things worth while."
"Don't doubt it." Uncle Sid spoke with conviction. "He always carried high steam, an' I guessed he'd do something, if he got hitched to an engine that would stand the pressure."
"Wouldn't you like to see him? He's in the hotel now, I think. I'll send for him."
Uncle Sid made no objections and Helen beckoned a waiter.
"Please see if Mr. Berl is in his room and tell him he's wanted."
"Eunice an' I thought maybe we'd see 'Lige. That's one reason why we came here instead o' somewhere's else. Eunice's my sister," Uncle Sid added.
Before Helen had time to reply, she heard the quick beat of Elijah's feet on the floor.
"That's him," Uncle Sid remarked, as he rose to his feet.
The footsteps halted and Helen saw Elijah standing in mute surprise before the old man. The next instant he had Uncle Sid's outstretched hand in both his own with crushing grasp.
"Well! well! Uncle Sid! You're looking as natural as life."
Uncle Sid winced.
"I'm feelin' as natural's life too, just this very minute. Cast off, 'Lige! I brought my rheumatiz with me."
Elijah turned to Helen.
"How under the sun did you come to know Uncle Sid?"
"She don't know me. We're just gettin' acquainted."
"Uncle Sid is worth knowing, Helen, I can vouch for that." Elijah surveyed Uncle Sid with a beaming face. "Where's your sister, Mrs. MacGregor; why didn't you bring her with you?"
"I did. She'll be down in a minute. Sit down. How do you make it out here, 'Lige? You used to be great on temperance back East, but I haven't seen any water worth drinkin' out here."
"There's plenty of water, all right, and good water too. We'll show him, won't we, Helen?"
"I'll believe that when I see it. Lucky thing the Lord didn't start in makin' man in this section," growled Uncle Sid, "he wouldn't have had water enough to have pasted him together with. He'd a had dust enough, goodness knows. I want a handbellus, to blow off some o' this dust. Just as sure as I touch water I shan't be nothin' but a mud puddle."
"You can afford to even up, Uncle Sid. You've had more than your share of water all your life. A little soil won't hurt you now."
"Huh!" Uncle Sid grunted. "I was on top of the water then, an' I kept there. This dirt gets on top o' me an' inside me an' everywhere it ain't no business to be. Here's Eunice now. Look here, Eunice, here's an old friend o' yours, and here's Miss Lonsdale, a new friend o' mine, and I won't swap either."
A tall woman, deliberate in all her motions, advanced upon the little party. Her eyes rested for a moment upon Elijah as he rose with extended hand, then, acknowledging the introduction to Helen, they slipped from Elijah and glanced slowly over Helen from her boots to the coils of dark hair that crowned her head. Helen experienced a creeping sensation. The touch of the deliberate eyes reminded her of the inquisitive fingers of a jockey feeling for blemishes on the smooth limbs of a horse.
Mrs. MacGregor seated herself with studied elegance.
"It occurs to me, Sidney, that Miss Lonsdale may object to your rather broad claims to her friendship upon so short an acquaintance."
"I guess she's able to let me know her own mind. We took to each other like ducks to a patch o' wild rice. I'm too old to be dangerous an' young enough to know what's good for me."
Mrs. MacGregor ignored her brother's remark. She turned to Elijah.
"How does the change from sedate New England to this new life affect you, Elijah?"
"Not at all, personally, Mrs. MacGregor. I'm just the same 'Lige you used to know."
Uncle Sid broke in.
"Perhaps not your innards, but your outards ain't the same. You ain't goin' around here barefoot, with two kinds o' cloth in your pants."
Mrs. MacGregor's eyes were wandering from Helen to Elijah. She was comparing the evidences of sight gathered from personal inspection, with those of hearsay, the result of her indirect inquiries among the hotel guests, as to Elijah's standing in Ysleta. At length she arose, holding out her hand to Elijah.
"I shall hope to renew our old acquaintance. It is a great pleasure to find one's estimates of an old friend more than exceeded."
Elijah took Mrs. MacGregor's hand. In spite of his bewilderment over their implied intimacy in the past, he felt a glow of pride that she felt it worth her while to expand the mustard seed of their former acquaintance into a luxuriant growth. He gave the limp hand a warm pressure.
"Let me do anything I can for your pleasure, Mrs. MacGregor. I am always at your service."
Mrs. MacGregor bowed formally to Helen.
"We shall meet again, I hope. You are stopping here?"
"Yes." Helen could hardly bring herself to this curt response. She felt more like slapping.
It did not escape Mrs. MacGregor, who was following Uncle Sid from the room, that Helen had begun to move as well, and that she was checked by an almost imperceptible gesture from Elijah.
"What about tomorrow, Helen?" he asked.
"You mean the Pacific bank?"
"Yes. It's not our secret now. Every one knows that the run will begin when the bank opens."
"There's only one thing to be done. You must be the first in line."
Elijah took a few quick turns then came to a sudden halt before Helen.
"That's impossible. The line's a mile long now." He laughed uneasily over the exaggeration.
"Then we are out of it, after all."
Elijah hesitated.
"Not necessarily."
Helen leaped to the point of Elijah's meaning.
"You can't do that. You mustn't!"
"Why not? It's our money."
"You know why not." Helen spoke sharply.
"Mellin has fixed it all up." Elijah insisted.
"You know what that means, as well as I do." Helen's voice was sharper and more decided.
Elijah was again striding up and down. He looked at his watch, then snapped it shut and thrust it into his pocket.
"Well, goodnight, Helen, I'll think it over."
"Don't do it. It's dangerous to think about some things."
Helen was alone, walking thoughtfully to her room. Her old mood had returned with even darker shadows. Why couldn't she act on her own keen suggestion and stop thinking about dangerous things? This question occurred to her. Another point suggested itself. Mellin was reading clearly in Elijah that about which she had only vague presentiments.
CHAPTER TEN
The first brick in Ysleta's speculative row had toppled against its fellow and the whole line was threatened with collapse. Some worthless speculator had begun it by trying to "cash in." The news had spread like wild-fire that the Pacific was to be the first point of attack. There was no time for aid to reach it from the San Francisco banks, even had they been disposed to tender assistance. As for the local banks, they were too busy furling their own sails for the coming storm, to think of going to the rescue of the storm's first victim.
Early as was the hour, the sharp-lined figures of the depositors jammed against the closed doors of the bank and faded to dim shadows at the far end of the line. Men, who a few hours before had bowed with deference to their fellow men, were now like savage tigers, holding their places with tooth and claw bared for immediate and merciless action. Woe to the luckless one who in the jam, was crowded from his position. There was no hope for him but in the far distance where men were shadows. No word was spoken. There was no need of words where moonlight gleamed coldly on shining steel. A hand to hand fight meant the end of the line for the defender as well as the one who attacked.
Only one thing could have broken the solid ranks. Could any one in that fierce array of self-seekers have seen a man slink from a half-opened window in the rear of the bank, creep from shadow to shadow in the direction of the Rio Vista, and finally disappear within a secluded arbor, a timid fox in a pack of ravening hounds would have had a better chance of life than he.
Pale as the moonlight that lay soft and white about him, Elijah stood, awaiting Mellin.
"I have decided that I cannot take the money."
"What the devil are you here for then?"
"To tell that I will take chances with the rest."
"The devil you will." Mellin's voice showed the contemptuous scorn he felt; but Elijah's course was not new to him. His experience in life had taught him that in business the saint and the sinner stand on the same plane. He had noted that the sinner did without a qualm that which the saint did with moaning and tears. The result was the same in either case.
"I suppose you know that we are carrying five hundred thousand in deposits. We have one hundred thousand with which to meet the run."
"But the receivership that will follow?"
Mellin laughed.
"You are not so innocent as all that. You know our line of business. Real estate loans!" Mellin indulged in a sarcastic smile. "Two millions hard cash and five millions of Ysleta lots that aren't worth record."
"We took our chances with the other depositors and we will stay with them." Elijah's words were firm, but his voice gave them the lie.
Mellin was very patient. It never occurred to Elijah to ask why. Mellin was worldly wise; Elijah was not. Therefore Elijah never asked the question, "What does the other man want me to do for him when he is so anxious to do something for me?"
Mellin was worldly wise. He had read Elijah aright. Elijah was open to conviction as to what was right and what was wrong. His well-known professions only strengthened Mellin in his belief that Elijah relied upon others for guidance more than upon himself. So he made answer:
"You are not on the same footing as the other depositors. I am cashier. Yesterday morning I got a tip that there would be a run on the bank and I passed it on to you. It's no one's business that you had a friend on the inside. You were out of town and I sent a messenger after you. After sending him, things thickened. I saw that you wouldn't get back in time, so I drew for you. Here's the stuff." Mellin held out a compact bundle carefully wrapped and tied. Elijah's hand closed upon it. He moistened his dry lips as the package rested in his hand and was transferred to his pocket. Without a word he turned toward the hotel. The parting of the ways was behind him and he was on the wrong path. The return was not irrevocably barred; but, – would he return?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The shadows that had gathered around Elijah during the night were not dispelled with the dawn of the following day. On his way to the office, he was anticipating Helen's criticism of his act in taking the money from the bank in the face of her strong opposition. He found on arrival, that the devil had a way of his own in making smooth the path of his disciples, for a time at least.
Helen greeted him as usual.
"My last night's advice was unnecessary, wasn't it?"
"How so?"
"I went around by the bank this morning. It was a sight, I can tell you. I didn't see you in the line." There was an indirect question in Helen's eyes.
"I wasn't in line." Elijah could not restrain a sigh of relief as he spoke the half-truth.
"They say the line was begun before ten o'clock last night."
"I know it was, and it was kept too." Elijah turned to his desk and became absorbed in his work.
Whether or not Helen grasped the fact that her indirect question of Elijah remained unanswered, she pursued it no farther.
Toward noon, Elijah went to the safe which stood in the back of the office. He opened the door, took from his pocket a bunch of keys and unlocked his private box. Helen's back was towards him. Without taking his eyes from her, he drew from his pocket a small package and slipped it beneath a pile of papers. Then he closed and locked the door and returned the keys to his pocket. He reseated himself, swinging his chair from his desk.
"Are you busy, Helen?"
"Not very."
"What do you think this business means?"
"What, the run on the Pacific?"
"Yes."
"It's the beginning of the end, and I'm glad it's come." Helen spoke with decision.
"The end of everything?"
"No; only a weeding out. It was bound to come, only I didn't think it would be so soon."
"I don't feel so sure that anything will be left."
"Things that are worth while, will be."
Elijah made no immediate reply. He could not get away from the thought of the thing that he had done; the thing that Helen had almost commanded him not to do. He knew what she would think could she know of the packet which he had stealthily slipped into his private box. He raised his eyes, to meet Helen's looking frankly into his own, or – was it his imagination? Was there an anxious questioning, born of a half suspicion? He put the thought from him.
"Ysleta was worth while," he ventured.
"In itself, it was." Helen's face was firm with conviction. "But these scheming rascals have made it not worth while for a long time. There will be room for Ysleta if Las Cruces is managed right."
"It's going to be." Elijah spoke with no less conviction.
"Yes, it's going to be just so long as you keep clear of boomers' methods. Not one of the boomers has cared a snap of his fingers for Ysleta's future. Every one has wanted all he could get, now."
"Now?" Elijah repeated.
"Yes, now; but we have to wait for things that are worth while."
"Good Heavens, Helen! Haven't I waited?"
"Wait a little longer." Her voice was eager, almost pleading.
"About the Pico ranch?"
"Just that, Elijah." Helen made no attempt to restrain the sigh of relief that escaped her.
"I can't wait, Helen. You saw where that ditch line was going. Others will see it. You saw that only a hill lay between it and Pico's ranch. Others will see it. A tunnel suggested itself to you. It will suggest itself to others. We were the first to see these things, why should we not take advantage of them?"
"But Seymour and Ralph, Elijah. It isn't fair to them."
"I have given them enough."
"Yes, but – "
Elijah interrupted her.
"I want to do things. You want to do things." He was striding back and forth across the floor of the office in growing excitement. "I don't care for money. You don't care for money. Look!" He laid his hand on her arm and pointed to the dusty street. "'Except the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it.' Because of this, it is falling! falling! But one can breathe the breath of life into these dry bones. It shall rise from its ashes. Deliver these lands from the hands of them who have wrought this," – he flung his hand toward the street, – "from them and their kind, and Ysleta shall yet live. It shall look forth upon waters of plenty flowing from the mountains, upon green hillsides, and upon valleys standing out with fatness." He paused, his voice dropped almost to a whisper, but vibrating with intense emotion. "The vision of the future came to me. I was alone and I waited. Then you came into my life. What I lack, you have; patience, sympathy. You don't know what it means to me."
Helen's eyes were not frank and fearless now. They were shrinking, questioning, doubting; but they could not drop from Elijah's. She felt rather than knew her feet were trembling on the brink, but she could not turn back. The old fascination was yet strong upon her, but she felt its strength as a whole. Of its elemental compounds she was ignorant; the religious fanaticism that with frenzied kisses wears smooth a block of worthless stone; the merciless vanity that comes to one who is fixed in the belief that he is God's elect; the human element that demands love, sympathy and unswerving devotion to the idols he worships, whatever the cost to others. These were strong elements and Helen felt their power even as Ralph and others had felt it. There was in Elijah an unshaken, unshakable belief in himself. His work appealed to others as it had appealed to Helen. Others selected with unclouded judgment the grains of Elijah's enthusiasm from the chaff of his fanaticism. Others had not a woman's heart; Helen had. She was not conscious of it, of how it was blinding her judgment, of where it was leading her. This consciousness was dimly suggesting itself to her, not from herself but from Elijah. Let him arouse that consciousness to active life, then she would know, then she would act!
Helen drew a deep, inspiring breath, looking up again. Her eyes were fiercely questioning.
No! This zealous passion that strode sure-footed on the brink of destruction, could not be assumed, was not assumed. Helen was quick to judge and quick to decide when she saw clearly. She was clean of heart and pure of mind. She could not know that a human soul, lashed to frenzy by the stings of an outraged conscience, can yet clothe itself in robes that might be worn by an angel of light.
"Then I saw in my dream that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of heaven, as well as from the city of destruction."