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  CHAPTER XXI

  Never had Conniston known a busier forenoon, never a happier. Thefatigue, the despondency, the utter hopelessness of the early morningwas swept away. He felt a new life course through his veins, therecame a fresh elasticity to his stride, his voice rang with confidence.For he was as a leader of a lost hope within the walls of abeleaguered city to whom, when all hope was gone, reinforcements hadcome.

  He felt that now nothing could tire him in body or in mind, nothingdrive from his heart his glorious conviction of success to come.

  And yet he had no faintest idea how busy the day was to be. When twohours had passed and the wagons carrying three hundred men had startedfor the Valley, Conniston had the two hundred and fifty men at DeepCreek working with a swiftness, an effectiveness which would have tolda chance observer that they had been familiar many days with the work.He was to leave them before noon, to hurry on horseback to overtakethe wagons that he might personally oversee the arrangements to bemade upon their coming into the Valley. And there was much to be done,many specific orders to give the Lark, before he dared leave.

  Upon the dam itself he put a hundred men to work. The remaininghundred and fifty he set to building the great flume which was tocarry the stored water for five hundred yards along the ridge, theninto the cut in the crest of the ridge and into Dam Number Two. He sawthat he must have more horses, more plows and scrapers. But for thepresent he could do without them. There was blasting to be done uponthe rugged wall of the canon, there were tall pines bunched in groves,many of which must come down before the flume could be completed orthe ditch made. And men with axes and crowbars and giant powder wereset to their tasks.

  Everywhere he went the Lark dogged his heels, listening intently tothe orders which his superior gave him.

  "The main thing," Conniston told him, when he had outlined the work aswell as he could, "is to keep your men working! Don't lose any time.I'll be back as soon as I can make it, some time to-morrow, and if youdon't know how to handle anything that comes up put your men onsomething else. The dam has got to be made, the flume has got to bebuilt, the cut has to be dug, a lot of trees and boulders have to comeout. You will have enough to keep you busy."

  "Do you know, Mr. Conniston," Jimmie Kent told him, as they sat downtogether for a bite of lunch, "I've got a hunch. A rare, goldenhunch!"

  Conniston laughed--he was in the mood to laugh at anything now--andasked what the rare "hunch" was.

  "Just this: there's going to be some fun pulled off in this very sameneck of the woods before the first of October! And, by Harry, I'd liketo see it! Have you any objection to my sort of roosting around andkeeping my bright eye on the game? Oh, I don't want a salary; I'll payfor my grub, and you can have my valuable advice gratis. Can I stickaround?"

  When Conniston told him that he should be glad to have him stay, andas his and the company's guest, Jimmie Kent beamed.

  "That's bully of you! If you don't mind, and we can scare up a horsefor me, I'd like to ride into Valley City with you? I can send a wirefrom there to my firm asking for an indefinite vacation. Oh, they'llgrant it, all right. They want a man like me in their business."

  It was after one o'clock, work was in progress, and Conniston andJimmie Kent swung into their saddles and started for Valley City.Before they had ridden a mile down the mountainous road Connistonheard Kent whistle softly, and ahead of them, coming to meet them, sawa light pole buggy swiftly approaching. A moment later and the mandriving had stopped his horses and was looking with small, shrewd eyesinto Conniston's.

  He was a short man, round of face, round of eyes, round of stomach.Very fair, very bland, very red under the flaming sun, the sweattrickling down his face and upon the crumpled white of hisshirt-bosom. His eyes were mildly surprised as they rested upon Kent.They were only smiling as they returned to Conniston.

  "I was looking for Mr. Conniston, the superintendent," he said, in asoft, fat voice. "Can you direct me--"

  "I am Conniston. And I am in a very big hurry. What can I do for you?"

  The man in the buggy swelled pompously.

  "I am Oliver Swinnerton," he said, with dignity. And then sufferingwhat he might have been pleased to consider austerity to melt under asoft, fat smile, "Glad to know you, Conniston. Shake!"

  He put out a soft, fat hand. Conniston stared at him in amazement.

  "Swinnerton!" he cried, sharply. "Oliver Swinnerton! And what in theworld do you want with me?"

  When it was obvious that Conniston was not going to lean forward inthe saddle to take his hand Mr. Swinnerton withdrew it to mop hismoist forehead.

  "Oliver Swinnerton," he repeated, nodding pleasantly. "And I wanted totalk with you about"--his left eyelid, red and puffy, drooped, and hisright eye squinted craftily--"about reclamation."

  "I can't imagine what common interests you and I have in reclamation.And I am in a hurry."

  Oliver Swinnerton chuckled as at a rare jest.

  "How do, Kent?" was what he said, having seen Jimmie Kent, it wouldseem, for the first time. "And what might you be doing in this part ofthe country?"

  Jimmie Kent's voice was as pleasant as Swinnerton's had been.

  "Maybe you remember how you did me up in the matter of the Bolton townlots, Mr. Swinnerton? Well, I am just sticking around for the fun ofseeing some one do you up."

  Mr. Swinnerton's chuckle was softer, oilier than before. He smiledupon Kent as though the sandy-haired man were in truth the apple ofhis eye.

  "Always up to your little repartee, ain't you, Jimmie? Well, well! Andnow, Mr. Conniston--Jimmie, you'll pardon us?--may I have a word inprivate with you?"

  "No," Conniston flared out, "you may not! I don't know you, Mr.Swinnerton, and I don't want to."

  Only a something akin to the hurt surprise of a child in voice andlook alike as Swinnerton queried softly:

  "No? Pray, why not? What have I done, Mr. Conniston?"

  "You have proven yourself a scoundrel!" burst out Conniston, angrily."A fair fight in the open is one thing. Such cowardly means as youtake to gain your ends is another. And if you will turn your horsesand drive back off of Crawford territory I'll be glad to see the backof you."

  For a moment Swinnerton stared at him in stupefaction. And then hebroke into a delighted giggle which drove the tears into his eyes.Jimmie Kent looked from one to the other, and then, whistling softlyto himself and saying no word, rode on down the road.

  "I don't know what you are gurgling about," Conniston said, shortly."But if you will follow Mr. Kent and get off and stay off this land Ishall be much obliged to you."

  Mr. Swinnerton wiped the tears from his eyes and gasped from thedepths of his mirth:

  "You'll do, Conniston! He, he! Oh, you'll certainly do!"

  "I don't know what you're talking about," snapped Conniston. "But Itell you what I will do if you don't get out of here. I'll justnaturally pitch you out!"

  "I'd never have guessed it," chuckled Swinnerton. "Never in the world.I'd never even have thought of such a thing. Conniston, it's thebulliest scheme I ever heard of! How you managed it so easily--"

  "Managed what?" Conniston's curiosity, in spite of him, had for themoment the upper hand of his anger. "What do you mean?"

  "Close-lipped, eh? Close-lipped to the end! That's business--mightygood business, too. Oh, you'll do."

  "Are you going to tell me what you mean? I tell you I haven't any timeto waste, and I want to see your back, and see it moving, too. If youhave anything to say, say it quick."

  "That's the stuff, Conniston. Close-lipped to the end. But," and witha glance over his shoulder at Jimmie Kent, now out of hearing, andleaning a pudgy arm upon a pudgy knee as he smiled confidentially intoConniston's frowning face, "ain't it pretty close to the end now?"

  "I give you my word, Swinnerton, that if you can't tell me straightout what you are driving at, off of this land you go."

  The stern assurance of Conniston's tone seemed to surprise Swinnerton.

  "Come, come," he said,
rather sharply. "What's the use of thisshenanigan? Can't I see through clear window-glass? Am I a fool? Oh, Ididn't guess, I didn't know that such a man as you were alive; Ididn't so much as know your name until yesterday. But--know a mannamed Hapgood?" And his eyes twinkled again.

  "Yes," bluntly. "What about him?"

  "Oh, nothing much. Only he told me about you. And now what he didn'tguess I know, Mr. William Conniston, Junior."

  "And, pray, what might that be?"

  "Want me to tell you, eh? Want to be sure that I know, do you? Want tosee if Oliver Swinnerton is a fool, blind in both eyes? All right."His voice dropped yet lower, and he blinked with cunning eyes as hefinished. "You are up to the same game I am! You are going to slip theknife into John Crawford clean up to the hilt. You are going to make abluff at getting work done until the last minute, and then you aregoing to have nothing done. You are going to throw him into my handslike I would throw a sick pup into a ditch."

  "Am I?" asked Conniston, coolly, mastering the sudden desire to takethis little fat man into his two hands and choke him. "You know agreat deal about what I intend to do, Mr. Swinnerton. And now, if youare not through talking your infernal nonsense, I am through listeningto it. There is room to turn right here. Understand?"

  "But--" began Swinnerton, only to be cut short with:

  "There are no buts about it!"

  He stooped, seized the bit of one of Swinnerton's horses, and jerkedit about into the road.

  "Get out!"

  "I tell you," yelled Swinnerton, "Conniston or no Conniston, you can'tbluff me. Do you hear?"

  Conniston made no reply as he jerked the horses farther around. Whentheir heads were turned toward the way which Swinnerton had come helifted his quirt high above his head. Oliver Swinnerton went suddenlywhite and raised his arm to protect his face. But only Conniston'slaugh stung him as the quirt fell heavily across the horses' backs.The buggy lurched, the horses leaped forward; Oliver Swinnerton'ssurprised torrent of curses was lost in the rattle of wheels, his redface obscured in the swirling dust.

  "I wonder what he was driving at?" muttered Conniston as he watchedthe horses race down the road.

  Jimmie Kent, reining his horse aside as Swinnerton swept by him,smiled and called, pleasantly:

  "Good-by, Oliver. Seem to be in a hurry!"