DWIG HT 
 
 TIUTON
 
 A H
 
 " AND 
 
 . . . TAKING HIM UP INTO AN HIGH MOUNTAIN SHEWED 
 UNTO HIM ALL THE KINGDOMS OF THE WORLD"
 
 ON 
 
 SATAN S 
 MOUNT 
 
 By 
 
 "And . . . taking Him up into an high mountain, 
 
 shewed unto Him all the kingdoms 
 
 of the world." 
 
 Illustrations by 
 
 CHARLES H. STEPHENS 
 
 BOSTON: C. M. CLARK PUB 
 LISHING COMPANY, MDCCCCI1I.
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 I g o z BY 
 C. M. CLARK 
 PUBLISHING 
 COMPANY 
 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 U . S . A . 
 
 ENTERED AT 
 STATIONERS 
 HALL LONDON 
 FOREIGN COPY 
 RIGHTS SECURED 
 
 RIGHTS OF 
 
 TRANSLATION 
 PUBLIC READ- 
 I N G AND 
 DRAMATIZATION 
 RESERVED
 
 
 " It is an observa 
 tion no less just than 
 common, that there 
 is no stronger test 
 of a man s real 
 c h aracter than 
 power and authori 
 ty, exciting as they 
 do every passion, 
 and discovering 
 every latent vice." 
 
 " Power, to its last 
 particle, is duty." 
 
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 93; 
 
 SM % 
 
 
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 O If. if. If. If. , If. If* <a r f \ /. Hf. if. If. If. 
 
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 CHAPTERS 
 
 i 
 
 "The American Handicap 
 Victor and Vanquished . 
 In the Paddock .... 
 Four Against One . 
 Embers of the Past . 
 Moonlight and Shadow 
 Indulging a Whim . 
 Throwing Down the Gauntlet 
 On the Palisades 
 A Man and His Castle 
 On the "Sea Lion" . . 
 The Launching .... 
 "Doc" Bayles Tells a Story 
 A Day in June .... 
 A Bolt from the Blue . 
 The Plan of Campaign 
 A Commercial Tragedy 
 At the Van Rennsalaer Low s 
 A Matter of Sentiment 
 Paternal Probation . 
 The Parting of the Ways . 
 Blow upon Blow 
 A Snake in the Grass . 
 A Pledge to the Dead . . 
 "A Paper for the People "
 
 CHAPTERS 
 
 XXVI. In a New Field . . 242 
 
 XXVII. Across a Human Sea . 251 
 
 XXVIII. The Power of Truth . 264 
 
 XXIX. A Bond in Honor . . 275 
 
 XXX. Placing the Blame . . 289 
 
 XXXI. The Truth at Last . 299 
 
 XXXII. A Luncheon Bears Fruit 312 
 
 XXXIII. A New Portfolio . . 323 
 
 XXXIV. A Brace of Interviews . 332 
 XXXV. Andrew Haven s Even 
 ing Call . . . . 341 
 
 XXXVI. Manceuvers in Force . 350 
 
 XXXVII. Philip Craig s Promise . 358 
 XXXVIII. Memory Plays an Old 
 
 Tune 366 
 
 XXXIX. In Cabinet Meeting . 376 
 
 XL. The Nineteenth of April 390 
 XLI. General MacMahon s 
 
 Pledge 401 
 
 XLII. The Arouiing of the 
 
 Tiger 413 
 
 XLIII. Despot or Martyr . . 424 
 
 XLIV. " On Satan s Mount " 436 
 
 XLV. The New Cabinet . . 444 
 
 XLVI. Neath the Evening Star 456
 
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 ON SATAN S MOUNT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 "THE AMERICAN HANDICAP." 
 
 THE trinity of earth and sky and sea, blessed 
 indeed when each is at its fairest, smiled in 
 most indulgent mood at the thousandsof men 
 and women who were gathered at Oceanic on a 
 certain day in June to see the running of the great 
 est turf event of the year, the American Handicap. 
 The human butterflies caught the infection of per 
 fect air, unclouded blue, smooth-shaven, flower- 
 spangled green and far off flecks of white on a 
 turquoise sea. They fluttered and danced if one 
 saw them from a distance filling the gigantic 
 steel pavilion with life and color. At closer range 
 their laughter and chatter and screaming badinage 
 smote the ear like the noise of some vast aviary, 
 which, in fact, the great structure, of marvelous 
 lightness and elegance, crowned with gilded domes 
 and minarets, and colored in extraordinary tints, 
 strongly suggested. 
 
 Through two fine bronze arches poured into the 
 beautiful enclosure an unbroken stream of other 
 gaily dressed holiday-makers from the great me 
 tropolis to the northwest, all come to seek the 
 
 I
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 pleasure that men and women ever find in a con 
 test, and find to the supremest in a race of thor 
 oughbreds upon which enormous sums of money 
 are staked. To such a crowd the horse is noble 
 not because he works, but because he runs. 
 
 The variegated tide swept in, rising higher and 
 higher among the tens of thousands of luxurious 
 seats in the pavilion, filling the cheaper enclosure 
 with black and restless waves and swirling about 
 the long, parti-colored marquees where the book 
 makers congregated with their stands, blackboards 
 and little tin boxes of money. It was within a few 
 minutes of flood, the flood of a tide as cold and 
 pitiless, in the aggregate, as that of the neighbor 
 ing sea. 
 
 Now and then a dull roar came from the pavilion 
 as some famous and popular patron of the "sport 
 of kings" was seen, or some idolized little jockey 
 walked past the expectant thousands with the non 
 chalance born of long public experience. 
 
 The American Handicap had become the most 
 potent racing event in the country, some said in 
 the world, because of the prodigal richness of its 
 stakes and the growing desire of the enormously 
 wealthy and the socially and politically powerful to 
 figure in its glories. 
 
 The horse of the President of the United States 
 had only last year been entered, but unsuccess 
 fully, while the princes of finance and industry 
 were regularly represented by their splendid sta 
 bles. To win the "American" had become the sole 
 life-ambition of many; it was the English Derby 
 over again, lacking the romantic tradition of that 
 classic event, but now beginning to surpass it in all 
 other respects. 
 
 2
 
 "THE AMERICAN HANDICAP" 
 
 For several years European millionaires and 
 potentates had sent over their best in the attempt 
 to win a prize so enormous as to be welcomed even 
 in the cash-box of a prince. But thus far the 
 golden laurel had not traveled over-sea. 
 
 To-day the country trembled. Even in the re 
 mote villages national pride, that had grown to 
 centre itself so strongly about the supreme effort 
 of some one beautiful horse, was perturbed by 
 doubt and made less aggressive by fear. The fin 
 est animal in Europe, the winner of the Derby and 
 the Grand Prix of Paris, was even now in the pad 
 dock, swathed in silken blankets and guarded by a 
 group of gorgeously arrayed stablemen. Count 
 Sandstrom, the young scion of a long race of great 
 financiers, pawnbrokers to kings and outfitters of 
 empires, was somewhere in the vast throng to see 
 his Barbarossa beat the best that America could 
 muster. The magic of his very name, traditionally 
 associated with success, was enough to make his 
 horse a favorite with those who bet to win; even 
 those who conceived it to be patriotic to back 
 American horseflesh at all hazards laid their 
 wagers with more self admiration than hope of 
 gain. 
 
 The musical call of a bugle stilled the crowd into 
 tense silence for a moment. Then came a pande 
 monium of partisan cheers and hand-clapping as 
 the gallant horses began their parade past the 
 pavilion. It was a sight to fire the blood, this 
 proud-stepping procession of the most beautiful 
 and highly developed animals in all the brute 
 kingdom. Especially did it bring light to the eyes 
 of a sunny-haired girl, who made one of a little 
 party in a box just opposite the finish wire. With 
 
 3
 
 GN SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 lips slightly parted and a deepening color on her 
 cheeks she watched the review, carefully scrutiniz 
 ing each horse, until at last a tall black, with ears 
 viciously laid against his head, danced past. 
 
 "Ah, splendid old Dandy," murmured the 
 young girl, "this is your hour for doing! Don t 
 fail us!" 
 
 But the big black, it was evident, did not con 
 trol a large share of popular approval. The ele 
 gance of Barbarossa, Count Sandstrom s hand 
 some chestnut, forced the applause of many; the 
 lithe energy of Regulus, the bay on whom the 
 hopes of the country rested, brought forth a salvo 
 of encouragement ; the splendid action of the 
 rather undersized Hector, of the famous Arm 
 strong stables, won its recognition, and there were 
 Nebula, a brave gray mare, and Hottentot, a win 
 ner of many of the season s lesser events, to be 
 greeted by their respective fallowings. The pa 
 vilion trembled with the combined tumult of all 
 the factions. To add to the din the "touts," frantic 
 purveyors of "tips," fantastically arrayed in garb 
 of Indians, cowboys, army officers and farmers, 
 made their last appeals for the sale of the abso 
 lutely certain knowledge of the outcome of the 
 race contained in the bunches of envelopes they 
 waved enticingly in their hands. 
 
 "Ain t he a beauty?" cried a little man whose 
 thin, sharp face spoke of an age that was almost 
 belied by his youthfully shrill voice. "Regulus ll 
 win held up." 
 
 "Win !" echoed his fat stable comrade contempt 
 uously, "yes, he ll win all right if all the other 
 hosses drops dead. Not otherwise; see? There s
 
 "THE AMERICAN HANDICAP" 
 
 nothin in it to-day but that blasted Dutchman s 
 Barbarossa." 
 
 The argument then left horses and verged on 
 personalities. From that point the transition to 
 fisticuffs was rapid and easy; then the warm parti 
 sans were hustled off the track to continue their 
 battle at leisure. 
 
 It was now the final moment for the "commis 
 sioners, and they swarmed through the pavilion 
 and in front of the boxes to take the wagers of 
 those who could not or would not go to the ring. 
 One of this gentry, a tall, sallow young man, with 
 thick sheets of bank bills tucked between his fin 
 gers, seemed a special centre of attraction. He 
 whispered something in the ear of a red-faced 
 gentleman whose stoutness was successfully accen 
 tuated by a glaring plaid coat. 
 
 It can t be," snorted the stout man, "I ll go to 
 the ring and see for myself." And he was followed 
 by a nervous crowd of small bettors, for he was a 
 well known plunger, and his lead was worth ob 
 serving. 
 
 The sallow messenger of the bookmakers 
 wended his way to the row of elaborately deco 
 rated boxes. He scanned the long line of gor 
 geous toilets and jaunty garments of "horsey" 
 men, as if in search of some desired face. Then he 
 nervously elbowed a path to the box wherein sat 
 the bright-haired girl, whose classically pure con 
 tour of face seemed not wholly in its natural en 
 vironment. Something of the sort even the runner 
 thought as he looked with admiration at her fresh 
 beauty ; but his errand was not to worship feminine 
 loveliness. He touched his hat respectfully to a 
 large-framed man whose smooth-shaven face was 
 
 5
 
 OA T SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 just then as cold and impassive as the mask of one 
 dead. A mere glint of recognition came into his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Well, Smithers, how s the betting? What are 
 the odds?" he asked in a tone as dully monotonous 
 as that of a man droning a chant. 
 
 "Hottentot, ten to one; Nebula, ten to three; 
 Hector, five to three; Regulus, five, four; Barba- 
 rossa, even money; King Capital, four to five." 
 
 "Ah." 
 
 Only one word, and not a shade of expression in 
 it. It might have been a comment on the price of 
 iron in Mars. 
 
 But the girl clapped her hands and threw a 
 glance of delight at the messenger that stirred the 
 heart in his thin body. 
 
 "Oh, isn t it splendid?" she cried. "Dear old 
 Dandy the favorite; of course he ll win now." 
 
 "Hush, Helen," said a plain-faced, soberly 
 dressed little woman by her side, "you will attract 
 attention, dear." 
 
 It was evident that the report of the quotation 
 had been heard in the adjacent boxes. A nervous 
 shifting of men followed, and calls for bookmakers 
 agents were loud and frequent. 
 
 "King Capital the favorite," growled a dapper, 
 nervous young man in immaculate white, "why, 
 he s a rank outsider." 
 
 "He was, you mean," returned the messenger 
 grimly, "but in the last ten minutes someone has 
 been pouring oceans of stuff in on him, and 
 they ve got the bookies played to a standstill. 
 Hello, Jenkins, let s hurry back." 
 
 This last to another young man armed like him-
 
 "THE AMERICAN HANDICAP" 
 
 self with betting book, pencil and money. To 
 gether they made their way rapidly to the ring. 
 
 "What was John Peter asking you?" queried 
 the newcomer. 
 
 "Who, Norton? Is that John Peter ?" replied 
 the other, incredulously. 
 
 "Sure it s John Peter. Spose he inquired how 
 his King Capital stood. Just as if he didn t know !" 
 
 The news of the complete reversal of opinion in 
 the betting ring spread with characteristic rapidity 
 through the pavilion where winged rumor always 
 seemed to have double her usual pinions. There 
 was a wild scramble to hedge, a stampede of those 
 to whom money was the all in all of sport. The 
 clear notes of the bugle calling the horses for the 
 start urged them to greater speed ; they would lose 
 the spectacle, but save their precious stakes. And 
 so the rout went on. 
 
 Helen Norton gazed with entranced interest at 
 the unfamiliar scene. To her it was the acme of 
 picturesque social activity. A lover of horses from 
 girlhood, and the mistress of many not noted for 
 sweetness of disposition, this was her first race. 
 She took a sensuous delight in the myriads of 
 beautiful toilets, the stirring music of the fine mili 
 tary band, the atmosphere of luxury and rank that 
 surrounded her. The perfectly conditioned track, 
 circling about like a broad band of brown velvet, 
 appealed to her horsemanship. Ah, to gallop a 
 favorite thoroughbred, or perhaps her cherished 
 mustang around that oval at full speed ! 
 
 But here were the horses at the barrier, snort 
 ing, pirouetting, tossing their heads in the air. 
 The midgets in the saddles, garbed in all the hues 
 of the rainbow, wheeled and wheeled again to gain 
 
 7
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 a favored position, until their silken jackets 
 formed a kaleidoscope of color. In all this riot of 
 tint the peculiar dress of the jockey who rode 
 King Capital was most striking. Black he was 
 from head to foot, and as he clung closely to his 
 black mount it seemed as if horse and rider were 
 one. The wiseacres shook their heads dismally; 
 no stable that flaunted such gloomy colors could 
 hope to win a race ; much more cheering was the 
 resplendent jacket of pure gold thread emblazoned 
 with the dark blue crest of Count Sandstrom. 
 Yes, Barbarossa was the horse; America was 
 beaten. Thus the superstitious. 
 
 A touch of an electric button by the starter, and 
 the wire barrier shot suddenly into the air. Then 
 that cry as old as racing, and yet as new as each 
 forward plunge of gallant steeds: 
 
 "They re off!" 
 
 It was a perfect start, and for a moment the 
 glistening backs of the horses formed a straight 
 line as one looked across them to the green be 
 yond. Then Hector, of the Armstrong stables, 
 shot out from the ruck and took the pole from 
 Regulus. A roar from his adherents greeted the 
 performance. So to the first turn they flew, well 
 bunched. There daylight showed between Regu 
 lus and Barbarossa, but only for an instant, for the 
 golden clad jockey began to use the whip thus 
 early. The punishment was effective ; the splendid 
 chestnut stallion closed up the gap, passed Regu 
 lus, and was neck and neck with Hector as the 
 horses entered the far stretch. 
 
 Close behind the three and on even terms ran 
 Hottentot and Nebula, while King Capital 
 brought up the rear. It was a sight to bring a 
 
 8
 
 "THE AMERICAN HANDICAP 
 
 choking of the throat to those who had bet on the 
 lately made favorite. Into one girl s voice tears 
 did come. 
 
 "Oh, father," she faltered, "are are we going 
 to lose?" 
 
 "Who knows, Helen?" the man replied calmly. 
 "There are still probably fifty-nine seconds left. 
 Much can be done in fifty-nine seconds. I have 
 made a half-million in much less time." 
 
 Far over in the back stretch was now seen a 
 struggle that made the great crowd silent through 
 the very intensity of excitement. The brave little 
 Hector was again in the lead, with Regulus and 
 Barbarossa neck and neck close behind. Then 
 arose a cry of dismay mingled with curses. Over 
 and over in a frightful heap rolled the gray mare 
 Nebula, writhed frantically for a moment, regained 
 her feet and galloped aimlessly back toward the 
 first turn. But the little jockey did not rise. 
 Those with glasses could see the pale blue of his 
 jacket prone and still amid the dust. Then no one 
 looked again. 
 
 For suddenly out from the undulating mass of 
 horseflesh swerved the gigantic black as if pro 
 pelled by some enormous, invisible force. Past 
 the big bay Regulus, plainly laboring now, he 
 flew ; his nose seemed to touch the flank of the 
 little Hector and slide silently along the body inch 
 by inch. A thunderous shout burst from- thrice 
 ten thousand throats : 
 
 "King Capital ; King Capital Ah-h A winner 
 No, no Barbarossa Hector The whip, the 
 whip P 
 
 Again his rider was punishing Barbarossa, and 
 again the splendid spirit of the thoroughbred an- 
 
 9
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 swered to the whip as they thundered into the 
 homestretch. Regulus had shot his bolt and was 
 merely cantering. But Hector of the unconquered 
 will still put forth every ounce of strength there 
 was in him, and, with bloody nostrils- and foaming 
 ilanks, was doing his desperate best to keep Count 
 Sandstrom s horse from passing him. But the 
 huge stride and greater strength of the chestnut 
 were having the inevitable result. 
 
 "Barbarossa, Barbarossa," roared the multitude. 
 It was like a cheer for some great personage; it 
 was a people s tribute to a conquering stranger. 
 But it was the last. 
 
 Just as the final furlong was before the nearly 
 spent leaders, the black rider raised his arm for the 
 first time, and laid one savage welt across the flank 
 of the black horse. The great animal sprang for 
 ward, quivering with anger and outraged pride. 
 With a burst of speed never before seen at 
 Oceanic, an almost incredible dash long famous 
 in its annals, he passed Hector, drew up on Bar 
 barossa and, in the wild pandemonium of frantic 
 human things, pushed his reeking nose past the 
 chestnut s head, the victor. 
 
 The cheers, the blaring of the band, the shower 
 ing of flowers upon King Capital s jockey as he 
 came up for the weighing in, were all the manifes 
 tations of a national pride that still existed in the 
 matter of sport. America had triumphed over the 
 supreme challenge of the old world. King Capital 
 had not been a popular favorite, yet he had proven 
 himself a champion when the country was in need. 
 Popular idolatry is an easy thing at the right 
 moment and the right place, and the throng fell 
 
 10
 
 "THE AMERICAN HANDICAP" 
 
 down and worshiped a black horse. But this John 
 P. Norton, the owner, who and where was he? 
 
 Down in the box in front a sunny-haired girl 
 was flinging her arms about the neck of a tall, 
 large-featured man, and a sweet-faced woman was 
 smiling in silent happiness. The man whose horse 
 had won the American Handicap neither smiled 
 nor frowned. Victory no more changed his 
 countenance than had the threat of defeat. Even 
 the quiet young man who had sat with the party 
 felt impressed by the older man s absolute self- 
 control. A stoical winner of the "American !" It 
 was a paradox in which he might have seen the 
 earnest of what was to come in another and a far 
 different battle. He glanced at the charmingly 
 exuberant girl and mused, oblivious to the gay 
 stir that swirled about him. He was aroused by 
 the even tones of Norton. 
 
 "Come, Harriet," said the man who knew that in 
 to-morrow s prints he \vould figure as the hero of 
 the American Handicap, "we ll go over to the 
 clubhouse and have dinner. You ll join us, of 
 course, Craig." 
 
 ii
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 VICTOR AND VANQUISHED. 
 
 THE great dining room of the clubhouse was 
 rapidly filling as the Norton party entered 
 and was escorted to a table near a large win 
 dow by the pompous, over-decorated negro head- 
 butler. As this functionary inarched down the 
 room at the head of the little company he felt that 
 this was also his day of triumph ; he knew that the 
 big man behind him was the target for every 
 glance, as his name and fame had but a moment 
 before been the theme of every tongue. He knew, 
 also, that the news had already flown across space 
 to every quarter of the world; he was pilot to a 
 man, who for the moment was more than kings, 
 and his African heart rejoiced. 
 
 "John Peter," new as he was to racing, was no 
 unfamiliar figure in the world of finance and 
 achievement. His strong-featured face flashed 
 into the first pages of the newspapers at the least 
 excuse, while his name was synonymous with cold 
 and relentless force joined with unlimited money 
 power. His sobriquet had followed him from the 
 west, which had ceased its ability to attract when 
 he had conquered it. To New York, that inevita 
 ble Mecca of the princes of Mammon, he had come 
 several years before, armed with millions and a 
 great conviction of his own infallibility. He chose 
 his battle-ground with all the care of a skilful 
 
 12
 
 VICTOR AND VANQUISHED 
 
 general. London, he saw, had lost its old-time 
 supremacy; Berlin was now the strongest rival of 
 the American treasure-city, and Norton knew that 
 she must either be cajoled into alliance or crushed 
 into submission ; which, no man could yet foresee. 
 He decided to cast his fortunes with New York. 
 
 John Peter Norton had gone far since he had 
 come in from the west, with none of the legendary 
 western breeziness and bonhomie. Stern, self- 
 centred, emotionless, he had elbowed his way into 
 the forefront of the financial leaders of Wall 
 Street, stopping neither at the hurts of others, nor 
 at his own occasional wounds. He loved the 
 smell of battle. From little skirmishes, in which 
 he never knew defeat, he sprang into wars of 
 finance, and overthrew Titans. Then men saw 
 that he must be reckoned with, and he was called 
 into the councils of the great by the very force of 
 their own necessities. 
 
 But an ordinary seat among the rulers did not 
 satisfy "John Peter." His gaze was fixed on the 
 supreme place of power, the throne, as it were, of 
 the realm of money. He soon found that it was 
 not to be seized, nor even bought. He must win 
 the confidence, the personal and social friendship 
 of the millionaires of tradition. They had their 
 price, but it was not represented by the writing on 
 a cheque. 
 
 To some of them he was of the "nouveaux 
 riches," and was often made to feel the stigma in 
 disagreeble ways. He had been blackballed by a 
 famous yacht club, merely as a matter of "princi 
 ple;" his wife had been refused inclusion among 
 the patronesses of a great charity ball, although he 
 had clearly expressed a desire that she should be 
 
 13
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 honored. He winced, but was shrewd enough to 
 see that the ramparts of society s forces must fall 
 if assailed in season and out with golden ammuni 
 tion. 
 
 For the conventional social life of the metropolis 
 he had supreme contempt ; he would use it simply 
 because it was a part of his scheme, just as a cour 
 tier might play the fool to win state secrets. 
 
 Norton s horse, too, was merely his servant ; for 
 the winning of the American Handicap he would 
 have cared nothing, had it not suddenly thrust him 
 forward a long way on the path to his goal. A 
 million dollars could not buy King Capital now; 
 "John Peter" could be grateful for great effort 
 when it had proved successful. 
 
 His presence in this splendid and exclusive club 
 house to-day was evidence that his campaign had 
 begun to succeed. But he had fought, as usual. 
 
 "If I were you, Norton," volunteered a friend 
 one day with some trepidation, "I wouldn t push 
 this Oceanic business. I get it from some of the 
 members that they re going to blackball you ; that 
 would be deucedly unpleasant, you know." 
 
 "I don t believe they will," returned "John 
 Peter" curtly. 
 
 "Why not?" asked the other, impressed by the 
 tone of the millionaire. 
 
 "Because, sir, I have bought and hold a majority 
 of the bonds of the Association. If I m black 
 balled, I ll sow the race-course down to wheat. 
 Just tell em that, if you will." 
 
 Norton s physical characteristics well bore out 
 what men said of him as a financier. He was in the 
 early fifties, tall, ruggedly and rather squarely 
 made, and possessed of the long, striding, almost 
 
 14
 
 VICTOR AND VANQUISHED 
 
 slouching walk acquired on the plains. His 
 smooth-shaven face was of the eagle type, \vith its 
 large aquiline nose, its cold, yellowish-brown 
 eyes and its two thin strips of almost curveless lips. 
 In all the years of his career no one of his associ 
 ates had ever seen him laugh heartily; nor was 
 there any one who could say that he had ever 
 stormed in anger. In moments of great mental 
 tension he had a way of compressing the thumb of 
 his left hand under the curling strength of the 
 forefinger, till circulation ceased, and a livid white 
 band testified to the power of his emotion. Such 
 a band might have been seen only a few minutes 
 before, when King Capital was in the ruck on the 
 race-course of the Oceanic. 
 
 The Norton party had scarcely settled them 
 selves, and given their directions for dinner, when 
 a little plump gentleman sidled up to their table as 
 if distrustful of the polished floor. Benevolence 
 beamed through his big, round spectacles as he 
 awkwardly thrust his hand in the direction of 
 John Norton. 
 
 "Ah, my dear Norton, I trust my congratula 
 tions will not bore you. A phenomenal victory, 
 really. And you, Airs. Norton ; this must be a 
 source of great pride to you. Eh? Yes, to be 
 sure." 
 
 Any success of Mr. Norton s is a pride to me," 
 returned the lady, with a smile. 
 
 "You see, Andrew," observed Norton, "that my 
 wife differs from the crow r d. With them my suc 
 cess rather my horse s success is only another 
 affront to their self-esteem. You ve doubtless just 
 been hearing a lot of uncomplimentary remarks 
 about me." 
 
 15
 
 OA V SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 The other protested feebly, and his blush still 
 further weakened his denial. Andrew Haven liked 
 Norton, whom he had first met several years be 
 fore on a trip to the west, and he was grateful to 
 the stronger man for financial help when he was in 
 desperate straits, a help that had saved him from a 
 dishonorable bankruptcy. In his timid and awk 
 ward way he was a Norton partisan for life. It 
 seemed to be his nature to wish to be of service 
 everywhere, but so clumsy was he in performance 
 that he appeared always on the point of falling 
 over himself to do a favor. In his present con 
 fusion he suddenly caught Helen Norton s glance 
 of amusement. 
 
 "And Miss Norton? I beg your pardon" as 
 he stepped gingerly to one side "I fear I am 
 incommoding you in your way, you know." 
 
 "Oh, not at all, Mr. Haven." 
 
 "And you are pleased, too, I daresay; yes, I 
 daresay that." 
 
 "It was glorious !" exclaimed the girl, her face 
 yet eloquent of the inspiriting scene. "Such beau 
 tiful horses; such a wonderful picture." 
 
 "But your horse : King King " 
 
 "Capital," put in Norton drily. "You should 
 remember that although you do forget the inter 
 est," he added inaudibly. 
 
 "Yes, yes, of course; how stupid of me," said 
 Haven nervously. "Capital; King Capital. Yon 
 say nothing of him and his victory, Miss Norton." 
 
 "Dandy is the dearest horse in the world. See, 
 I have saved the best of my candy for him." 
 
 "Dandy?" queried the little man in bewilder 
 ment. "I I thought " 
 
 16
 
 VICTOR AND VANQUISHED 
 
 "Dandy is his pet name. It was his real name 
 until father changed it." 
 
 "You see, Haven, it would scarcely do to enter 
 a Dandy for the American/ " explained Norton, 
 so when he began to show speed on the ranch I 
 had his name changed. He has justified his 
 new one." 
 
 "Ha, ha," tittered the ever-appreciative Haven, 
 "very good, very. Won a pot of money for you 
 to-day." 
 
 Dinner was a notable function at the Oceanic 
 that day, and none enjoyed its brilliancy and its 
 artistic prodigality more than the young woman 
 who loved the winner of the American Handicap. 
 For the Norton party as a whole it was also an 
 occasion of gaiety, in so far as any meal could be 
 gay with the grave, silent "John Peter" at one part 
 of the round table, the strangely preoccupied 
 Craig opposite him and the vapid, effusive Haven 
 sandwiched between the two ladies. At last, but 
 not until the sweets had been served, the girl grew 
 restive. 
 
 "Come out to the paddock, father, do. I want 
 to see Dandy," she pleaded impulsively. 
 
 "I cannot just yet, Helen," was the reply. A 
 few words, and a negation, but uttered in a tone 
 that would have sounded strange indeed to Nor 
 ton s associates on the "street." "Perhaps Mr. 
 Craig will escort your mother and you." 
 
 The girl s blue eyes threw a pretty petition to 
 the straight-limbed young man s dark ones. 
 Again he started as from a revery. 
 
 "It would be a pleasure to me, I am sure," he 
 replied, "the escort duty even more than the see 
 ing of the horses." 
 
 17
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 To tell the truth, Philip Craig s preoccupation, 
 not at all a usual characteristic, had much justifi 
 cation. He could hardly realize even now that 
 that very morning he had been summoned to the 
 office of his chief, and offered the position of pri 
 vate secretary to Norton, a place made vacant by 
 the hopeless illness of a trusted employee who had 
 held it for twenty years. He knew that the confi 
 dential man of "John Peter" was very near to 
 the throne. Full of faith in himself, he had yet 
 wondered at his sudden elevation. And this social 
 recognition, the invitation to the race and the 
 dinner ! It was all very new and surprising. 
 
 As Craig and the two women rose to go, the 
 blundering little Haven managed to collide with 
 the pilot of the party. He was profuse in apolo 
 gies. 
 
 "I really beg your pardon, Haven," said Norton 
 grimly, "you have not met before. Mr. Haven, 
 this is Mr. Philip Craig, my new secretary. Mr. 
 Craig, Mr. Haven an old friend." 
 
 The men performed the usual act of salutation, 
 not without some difficulty, owing to Mr. Haven s 
 attempt to seize Craig by the left hand. They 
 murmured the stock phrases of alleged gratifica 
 tion. 
 
 "So you are to succeed poor old Bennett," said 
 Haven. "Well, his loss is your well, doubtless 
 if I may say it. elation." 
 
 He looked at Craig with a fixed expression 
 which he soon realized was a stare. Amid his 
 stammered excuses the trio bound for the paddock 
 escaped through the open window, and were gone. 
 
 "Craig? Craig?" mused the small gentleman; 
 
 18
 
 VICTOR AND VANQUISHED 
 
 "don t remember a Craig, ibut the face is very 
 familiar." Then aloud to Norton: 
 
 Nice appearing young man." 
 
 "What young man?" said the financier absent- 
 mindedly. 
 
 "Craig beg pardon, I ve forgotten his first 
 name." 
 
 "Oh, Philip Craig. Yes, he s got the right sort 
 of stuff in him." 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 "John Peter" looked at his little friend curiously 
 for a moment. 
 
 "Didn t I tell you?" he asked with some acidity. 
 "My secretary." 
 
 "Yes, I know," returned the other, employing 
 his full stock of amiable persistency, "succeeded 
 Bennett, but I beg your pardon who of what 
 family is he?" 
 
 "Don t know; never inquired." 
 
 "But you I really fear I m rude but he is to 
 be your confidential secretary, isn t he?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Well, then, why why " 
 
 "Why didn t I get a character with him, I 
 suppose you mean ?" returned Norton with a sneer. 
 It always angered him to have the propriety of any 
 of his actions doubted. Haven cringed. 
 
 "Oh, not that ; of course, not exactly that. But, 
 if I may say it, isn t it a bit i dangerous?" 
 
 "To trust a man of whose antecedents you 
 know nothing? I haven t found it so. A man s 
 family is often about the poorest possible guaran 
 tee of a man s metal. I have known men .whose 
 genealogy ran back to the nearest cross-roads to
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 the garden of Eden to be the biggest sort of ras 
 cals. Haven t you?" 
 
 At this forcible hint at his own irregularities 
 Haven grew a bit apprehensive. He looked at 
 Norton out of the corner of one eye, but, shrewd 
 as he was under his exterior of doddering sim 
 plicity, he could read nothing in the face before 
 him. He decided not to take offense; in fact, he 
 knew that although Norton could crush him at 
 any moment, the .great man would not do so as 
 long as he continued to be of use. And to the 
 gospel of subserviency he vowed himself with 
 more than the fervor of. a nun. He would become 
 invaluable, if such a thing were possible. 
 
 "Come along, Haven, let s go to the smoking- 
 room," said Norton in. his even, unaccented tones. 
 "There are several fellows there who, I know, are 
 dying to congratulate me." 
 
 As the big man and his little tender moved into 
 the crowded room, with its blue atmosphere, its 
 hurrying waiters and its groups of devotees of 
 alcohol surrounding numerous small tables, there 
 was something akin to a shout, and a rush of many 
 to congratulate the hero of the day. He shook 
 the hands of several, selecting those who had up 
 to now been most hostile to him. The felicitations 
 of friends were to him superfluities ; to be sought 
 out by someone who had two days before at 
 tempted his ruin was the true gratification. 
 
 Soon weaned of attention, Norton took his as 
 sociate into a retired bow window, and sat down 
 to smoke. He affected curious little slim panatella 
 cigars, and these he smoked only when in good 
 humor. Tobacco never appealed to him, as to 
 most men. in times of mental or physical disquiet. 
 
 20
 
 VICTOR AND VANQUISHED 
 
 Now he slowly blew out the fragrant smoke, and 
 Haven was pleased at the augury. 
 
 It was not long before a fresh stir in the room 
 attracted their attention. The cause appeared to 
 be a rather undersized, but not puny man, very 
 blonde and with immense moustachios that swept 
 down almost to the chin and then curved upward 
 like scimitars. He was prematurely bald as to his 
 forehead, and the hair on the sides of his head fell 
 in curls over each ear. Despite his lack of height, 
 he had an air of great distinction. Norton s keen 
 appreciation of the quality that makes a man un 
 usual was quick to note the new r comer. 
 
 "Who s that, Haven?" he asked brusquely. 
 
 Before the question could be answered the 
 blonde man s voice could be heard incisively above 
 the clatter of the room. 
 
 "Poof; it wouldn t be so bad to be beaten, but 
 to be beaten by such canaille 
 
 Andrew Haven trembled with apprehension. 
 He glanced at his companion s face, but found it 
 as uneloquent as ever. "Will nothing ever move 
 him?" thought the little man. 
 
 "Who was that speaking, Haven? I didn t 
 quite catch his words." 
 
 "That er that is Sandstrom, Count Sand- 
 strom." 
 
 "The owner of Barbarossa?" 
 
 "The very man." 
 
 "Well, I want to meet him." 
 
 "To to meet him?" stammered Haven in 
 affright, "to meet Count Sandstrom?" 
 
 "Why not?" queried Norton coldly. "A victor 
 should be magnanimous, shouldn t he ? There are 
 
 21
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 things I would like to say to him. You know him, 
 don t you?" 
 
 "Ye-yes, but 
 
 "I tell you I want to meet him, Haven. I think 
 he is getting ready to go ; there is no time to lose." 
 
 Haven caught the glint he knew so well in the 
 eyes of the financier. He had purchased wisdom 
 through experience. 
 
 "Very well," he said, and tiptoed out to the 
 group of which Sandstrom was the centre. 
 
 "John Peter" was already fairly well informed 
 as to the Count s position in life. He knew that 
 the German was now nearly thirty years old and 
 was the head of the greatest financial house of 
 Europe by virtue of the recent death of his father. 
 His "metier" had not yet been taken by the bank 
 ers of the world, who were uncertain as to what 
 his attitude in money affairs would be. Whether 
 he was to be reckoned as a man with great wealth, 
 or a man of great wealth a pregnant distinction 
 could not at present be determined. He was 
 pleasure-loving and spent money freely, yet the 
 genius of his family and the solidity of his race had 
 kept him from excesses. In his clear and frank 
 blue eyes Norton thought he saw something worth 
 respecting. In a moment more Haven \vas bring 
 ing the nobleman to the window. 
 
 "This is Count Sandstrom, Mr. Norton. Count, 
 you of course know Mr. Norton by reputation." 
 
 "Ah, the owner of King Capital?" 
 
 Norton bowed gravely. 
 
 "I wanted to see you, Count Sandstrom," he 
 began, "to tell you how grateful to you are the 
 American people and myself." 
 
 22
 
 VICTOR AND VANQUISHED 
 
 "Grateful? To me?" questioned the Count in 
 some perplexity. 
 
 "To you, for having given us the pleasure of 
 seeing the finest race ever run by a losing horse. 
 And furthermore 
 
 "Ah, you are most gracious, my dear sir, most 
 gracious. Some other time I shall be delighted. 
 As for me, I have now many things to do. Au 
 revoir." And he bowed with extreme punctilio, 
 turned coolly on his heel and walked away. 
 
 The affront was clearly noted by the club habi 
 tues, who had been eager to see the outcome of a 
 meeting between two such men. Haven, in a spe 
 cies of panic, toddled away and out of sight. 
 
 "John Peter" threw his half-consumed panatella 
 out of the window, and gazed somewhat amusedly 
 at the white line on his left thumb. Then he arose 
 to seek his wife and daughter in the paddock. 
 
 "There is a man who must either be crushed or 
 bought," he said to himself.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 IN THE PADDOCK. 
 
 P)HILIP CRAIG S emotions as he walked 
 across the rich green toward the paddock, 
 with his pretty charge and her placid mother, 
 were more complex than any he had yet known. 
 Across the calm of his everyday life had suddenly 
 swept the breeze of wealth and fashion, ruffling it 
 in a manner new and strange. From the dawn of 
 remembrance existence had been a serious affair 
 with him. His boyhood had- been regulated by his 
 father, a Scotchman of the old school whose whole 
 conduct of life was circumscribed by theories, and 
 his youth had been completely outside the range 
 of ordinary pleasures. 
 
 Now there came back to him an evening when, 
 it being his fifteenth birthday, his father called him 
 into the little room that served as a library, and 
 bade him sit down in the hard leather chair hith 
 erto all but forbidden. 
 
 "Philip, my lad," he had begun, "ye ve had a 
 bit more schooling than ever I did. Ye re ready 
 to meet the warld. Ye can do as pleases ye best ; 
 bide along wi me, or seek ye er fortune elsewhere. 
 But if ye stay here ye must pay your boord. My 
 faither said the same to me when I was ye er age, 
 and it made a mon o me. If so be ye choose this 
 place and me, there are books, glide books, that 
 ye can study, and I ll help ye all I can. The more 
 
 24
 
 IN THE PADDOCK 
 
 ye ken in this warld, the better ye 11 be off, if ye 
 ken the richt things." 
 
 The books had conquered his youthful irresolu 
 tion, had kept him at his father s side. Since he 
 had been old enough to read he had felt the fasci 
 nation of the world that lay behind the sober bind 
 ings of the library of Angus Craig; he longed to 
 explore the mysterious realm of bookland, and 
 once in a while he was given a brief little excursion 
 under his father s guidance. But he was not to go 
 alone. Ah, no. The severest punishment he had 
 received was when he had ventured to take a book 
 from its place unbidden. 
 
 All that had changed, he remembered, on the 
 day he was given his choice between the parental 
 roof and the world. 
 
 "My library, Philip, is a that I shall leave ye 
 when I dee," said his father, "till then ye are free 
 to use it when ye will. 
 
 "Ye ll find books gude schoolmaisters, lad, but 
 ye must be ye er ain scholar. They ll teach ye 
 without reproof or anger, and without price. If ye 
 stumble in ye er lessons, they ll not appear to note 
 it ; if ye er ignorant, they ll not ridicule ye. They ll 
 be ye er frien s if ye ll let them, but they ll never 
 force themselves on ye. Remember that." 
 
 So the boy had stayed in the little cottage pur 
 chased by Angus Craig when land was cheap, but 
 now surrounded by great manufacturing estab 
 lishments and worth ten times what the canny 
 Scotchman had paid for it. For the father s trade 
 of steel engraving he had little taste; he preferred 
 to square the weekly parental debt by doing the 
 various odd jobs that a bright boy can always com 
 mand. His first year as his own master was rather 
 
 25
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 a precarious one, but, as he scorned to seek favors, 
 it made for a sturdiness and independence of char 
 acter that eventually brought him recognition. 
 
 When he was appointed carrier for a daily finan 
 cial bulletin service, Philip considered that his real 
 start in life had been made. Having plenty of 
 spare time, he took a special course in the College 
 of the City of New York, his racial proclivities 
 adding to a general education the practical 
 branches of typewriting and stenography as a pos 
 sible means of livelihood. Through the remark 
 ably swift delivery of a very important bulletin he 
 had come to the notice of John Norton, who said 
 to him one day in a most matter-of-fact tone : 
 
 "Would you like to go to work for me, Craig?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," he had answered just as calmly. 
 "But how did you know my name?" 
 
 "I know it because it seemed to me worth \vhile 
 rinding out." The boy pondered long on that 
 reply ; for many years it was to him the rarest com 
 pliment he had ever received. 
 
 From errand boy he was advanced to clerk in 
 the Norton establishment, having one day volun 
 teered to do the work of an absent employee. 
 From post to post of honor and trust his keenness, 
 his honesty and his vigor had carried him, until 
 to-day, at twenty-six, he found himself made a 
 peer of the realm of finance, as it were, and was 
 furthermore invited to court to meet a very sweet 
 and beautiful princess. And at this point the 
 young Scotchman smiled to find himself indulging 
 in a day-dream, as rare a recreation for him as a 
 seat at the opera or a dinner at the Oceanic. Then 
 he heard the pleasant voice of Mrs. Norton : 
 
 "This way, Mr. Craig, please. I see Bayles at 
 26
 
 LV THE PADDOCK 
 
 the lower gate to let us in apart from the crowd." 
 
 Around the paling of the paddock was a thick 
 fringe of men and women, the uninfluential many, 
 who must stand on tiptoe and writhe against one 
 another in the effort to peer through the slats and 
 see the great black horse that had saved the day 
 for America. Craig noted their faces pressed 
 against the barrier, feeble enough had they wished 
 to destroy it, and a curious feeling of self-repug 
 nance came over him that he, a man from and of 
 the people, should be admitted by the easy gate 
 way of the rich while they must be kept outside. 
 
 He now resigned his position as escort to a tall, 
 thin, wiry, sallow individual dressed in brown 
 corduroy trousers and a blue flannel shirt. A wisp 
 of hay was stuck in the left corner of his mouth, 
 and at it he pulled as at a cigar. 
 
 This was Bayles, the Norton trainer, otherwise 
 and inexplicably known as "Doc." Diplomaless, 
 so far as medical colleges went, -he was a master at 
 his profession, a friend and confidant of the horse 
 and a skilled and tender physician to all equine ail 
 ments. "More n half hoss myself, I reckon," he 
 was often heard to say, and indeed his long legs 
 and perfect poise as a rider sometimes made him 
 look a very centaur. 
 
 There was a rumor about the stables that 
 "Doc" had once been a cowboy on the western 
 plains before the industry of raising cattle had been 
 forced into the great Canadian northwest, and as 
 a relic of that past and gone life he aroused the 
 liveliest interest in the training quarters. 
 
 Helen Norton shook hands warmly with the 
 horseman, and his face grew a shade less sallow. 
 
 27
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "How is dear old Dandy?" cried the girl eagerly. 
 "Not tired, nor hurt, nor anything?" 
 
 "Tired? Not he ; he never turned a hair. He s 
 a glorious critter, Miss, and Ma am. No wonder 
 hunchback Richard wanted to swop his kingdom 
 for a hoss, if they had sech animiles as Da I mean 
 King Capital in them days. Here s the hoss 
 now." 
 
 And there he was, swathed in a black blanket, 
 walking placidly up and down in tow of a small 
 black stable-boy. Helen ran toward him, calling 
 his name aloud, and the throng stared through the 
 pickets the harder. 
 
 The splendid animal pricked up his ears and 
 whinnied at the familiar voice ; in another moment 
 he was blissfully munching the sweetmeats re 
 served for him. Craig thought he had rarely seen 
 a more attractive picture than the girl s fair head 
 in sunny relief against the dark muzzle of the 
 horse. He wondered, too, at her simplicity; many 
 times afterward it surprised him, until he learned 
 that Helen had led a quiet home life, even her edu 
 cation being given her by her mother, who had 
 been a New England schoolmistress of unusual 
 attainments before she had gone west, eventually 
 to become the wife of John Norton. 
 
 "Oh, there s Muggsy," suddenly exclaimed the 
 young woman, as a diminutive replica of the old 
 trainer ambled into view. He was still clad in his 
 black silk, and Craig recognized him as the jockey 
 who had ridden King Capital to victory under the 
 name of Bayles. 
 
 "Muggsy, you re a darling. I haven t any 
 candy left, but you shall have a kiss," and the 
 
 28
 
 IN THE PADDOCK 
 
 pretty girl bent forward to reach the jockey s fore 
 head, on which she implanted a hearty smack. 
 
 "Thankee, Miss," he said, in much the tone of a 
 waiter who thinks he has received an insufficient 
 tip. 
 
 "Now tell me all about the race, Muggsy just 
 how you won it, and and everything." 
 
 Didn t yer see it yerself, Miss?" 
 
 "Why, of course, you silly. But I didn t really 
 understand it. Now I want your story of it. 
 Please!" 
 
 Thereupon the junior Bayles proceeded to de 
 scribe the greatest race in American history as stol 
 idly as if he were telling what he had had for 
 breakfast that morning. 
 
 "Yer see, Miss, it was this way: when the gate 
 went up we all got off together with Reg lus at the 
 pole. At the near turn we was all well bunched, 
 until Reg lus and Barb rossa got into a kind of 
 scrap, and I see the Dutch jock use the braid. 
 Pretty early, thinks I, and I keeps Dandy in, 
 cause I knew there weren t nothing to fear in the 
 bunch behind. 
 
 "By this time we was tail-enders, Dandy and me, 
 but Lord love ye, Miss, I knew twas only going to 
 be so for four seconds. Then come Nebula s tum 
 ble which did for poor Dalgren, and I clicked to 
 the boy. We left the rear gang in one, two, three, 
 and crawled up on Reg lus. I smacked my lips 
 like you do when you call a bird, and then Reg lus 
 was a dead one. Then we slowed down a bit. 
 
 "Hector and Barb rossa was fighting every inch 
 that was in em at the three-quarters. All at once 
 Hector swerved a bit. Now, says I to Dandy, 
 a bit sharp, and he dug his heels into the ground 
 
 29
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 and went after Hector. Myers looked at me, and I 
 could see in his face that his mount was done. 
 It s Barb rossa now, Dandy, says I, raising my 
 voice a little and patting his neck. 
 
 "Then the jays in the grand-stand beggin 
 your pardon, Miss sets up a holler of Barb rossa, 
 Barb rossa, and Dandy he hears it and begins to 
 feel a bit worried. It s all right, boy, says I in his 
 ear, we ve got him licked for sure. Then I 
 tapped him once with the whip, just to show him 
 that I was in earnest, like, and looked to the right. 
 I could just see Barb rossa s nose. Then I hears a 
 bigger yell than the one before, and straightens up. 
 Dandy, you re a prince, I says. He whinnied a 
 bit and come down to a canter. And that s all 
 about it, Miss." 
 
 "Muggsy, you re you re a hero !" 
 
 "Thankee, Miss; I rode for all there was in it, 
 sure." 
 
 "There, now," broke in the parental Bayles, 
 "don t go a-swelling your head over it, Muggs. 
 Better take the hoss down to the stables." 
 
 "Oh, may I ride him down?" asked the girl ex 
 citedly. 
 
 "Why, Helen, child, before all these people?" 
 replied the mother gently. 
 
 "Well, I suppose not, with these" flirting her 
 skirts rather viciously. "If I only had my habit. 
 But I ll go down behind the stables. I must have 
 just a canter. I ve not been on Dandy s back in 
 a year." 
 
 It was a triumphal procession that accompanied 
 the gallant horse to the stables, Helen and Muggsy 
 acting as bodyguard, and Craig, Mrs. Norton and 
 Bayles proceeding more at leisure. 
 
 30
 
 IN THE PADDOCK 
 
 "I suppose you love horses, Mr. Bayles?" ob 
 served Craig, with the conventional desire to be 
 agreeable to a new acquaintance. 
 
 "Love em?" replied the trainer fervently, "you 
 may well say that, sir. When I was a cow-puncher 
 forty years ago a horse was sometimes the only 
 intelligent critter I saw for months. Love em ! 
 Lord bless you, they re the best comrades a man 
 can have. Some may run away, but it s because 
 they ve been badly treated by somebody before, 
 and they don t always know the difference between 
 men. But there, I m like the feller Shakespeare 
 tells about who doth nothing but talk of his 
 horse. * 
 
 Craig smiled in spite of himself. Here was an 
 anomaly worth observing more carefully. "Shake 
 speare is evidently a favorite of yours," he re 
 marked pleasantly. 
 
 "Yes, sir! There was a man who loved horses ; 
 he knew em. I never see a man in a temper but 
 I think of what he said : Anger is like a full hot 
 horse, who, being allowed his way, self-mettle tires 
 him. Then there was that king who went about 
 crying: Give me another horse. 
 
 "Mr. Bayles is quite a student," put in Mrs. 
 Norton, with whom the trainer was clearly on very 
 pleasant terms. "He has a whole trunk full of the 
 poets." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "Yes, sir," assented Bayles, "and all the pas 
 sages about hosses is marked." 
 
 "And what do you think," laughed the matron, 
 "he has hay between the leaves at the marked 
 places." 
 
 "Yes, ma am ; that s to find the hoss-talk easy."
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "I should think it would be safer to turn down 
 the leaves." 
 
 "It might, ma am, but I wouldn t take such a 
 liberty with the poets." 
 
 At the stables the tall form of John Norton 
 strode forward to meet them. From an inside 
 pocket he took a blue envelope which he handed 
 to the elder Bayles. The trainer opened it and 
 gazed at the little strip of yellow paper it con 
 tained. Then he passed it back to Norton. 
 
 "A big sum of money, sir," he said quietly. 
 
 "It s the handicap stake, Doc." 
 
 "I see it is, sir." 
 
 "It s for you and Muggsy." 
 
 "For me and Muggsy !" exclaimed the trainer in 
 amazement. He was used to the ways of his mil 
 lionaire employer by this time, but the tender of 
 such a fortune staggered even him. "For me and 
 Muggsy ! Why why, no. Why should we have 
 it?" 
 
 "Spoils of victory, Doc." 
 
 "But I was not the victor." 
 
 "True, it was the horse. But he cannot cash 
 checks. You ve made him what he is you and 
 Muggsy and the money shall be yours." 
 
 The attention of the friendly disputants was at 
 this point attracted by the sight of a fair-haired 
 young girl galloping about the space back of the 
 stables on a powerful black horse that bore a re 
 markable resemblance to the winner of the "Amer 
 ican." The young woman s flying draperies 
 accentuated the slender grace of her figure, while 
 the pretty feet that now and then flashed into view 
 by no means marred the picture. It was not long 
 before horse and rider bore down upon the group 
 
 32
 
 IN THE PADDOCK 
 
 at a furious pace, and drew up with a half-wheel 
 that excited Doc Bayles liveliest approval. 
 
 "Oh, father," called out the flushed and happy 
 girl, "won t you give me Dandy for my very 
 own ?" 
 
 "What, are you going to turn sportsman?" 
 asked the financier quizzically. 
 
 "No, no, you goose" Craig actually winced 
 "but he is such a lovely saddle horse." 
 
 "Why, young lady, I had thought of selling him. 
 I am done with racing, and I suppose we ought to 
 get rid of him in some way, oughtn t we, Doc?" 
 
 The elder Bayles winked very solemnly. "We 
 surely ought, sir," he replied. 
 
 "Then it s either sell or " 
 
 "Give him to me. Hurrah, I knew you would 
 all the time." And she sprang down from the 
 saddle to kiss the John Norton whom men called 
 hard and cruel. 
 
 As Craig took his leave of the Nortons at the 
 great Long Island Union station, his employer 
 said to him apart from the others : 
 
 "Come to my office as soon as I come in the 
 morning, Philip. There may be things to talk 
 over." 
 
 With the young man s speculation as to the 
 exact nature of his new work was mingled surprise 
 at Norton s attitude toward him, evidenced in 
 many ways during the day and especially by the 
 use of the name "Philip." 
 
 "Why should he, so imperious and distant, so 
 self-contained in victory or defeat, unbend to 
 me?" asked the new private secretary of that 
 other consciousness to which we all find ourselves 
 putting questions at one time or another. The 
 
 33
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 problem was too deep ; he would let the morrow 
 begin its solution, if that were possible. 
 
 But he could not quell his own spirit. After he 
 reached home he found himself in such a restless 
 mood that he determined to go and see his father, 
 from whose house he had removed more than a 
 year previously at the old man s broad hint that 
 now that his son had become such a great figure 
 in the world, and was so "muneeficently" paid 
 by his employer, whom the Scotchman always 
 mentioned as "the plutocrat," he would do well 
 to find another residence more in keeping with his 
 position in society. 
 
 34
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 FOUR AGAINST ONE. 
 
 THE chance passer-by through an especially 
 dusty and unkempt street in the Department 
 of Brooklyn often paused to look with un 
 measured surprise at a small and quaint cottage, 
 vine-embowered and with picturesque diamond- 
 paned windows, set in the very arms of huge, 
 grimy, forbidding factories. Between the street 
 and its pleasant porch grew a profusion of rare and 
 curious flowers; the hollyhock of ancient days, 
 and now almost forgotten ; the cockscomb, of 
 which the owner of the tiny house had some of the 
 few known specimens ; the larkspur, only a tradi 
 tion of the poets. In the rear one could see the 
 thriving green of a kitchen-garden, where, the 
 neighborhood report was, grew many strange 
 vegetables long since discarded by human tastes. 
 Indeed the grimy factories that so tightly held 
 this bit of sylvan greenery in their grasp were 
 themselves an anomaly, relics of an age when dirt 
 and shabbiness were permitted to exist. The 
 modern employment of electrothermal power for 
 all manufactures had long since abolished smoke 
 and soot ; the renaissance of municipal art had de 
 creed the doom of ugly structures, no matter for 
 what purposes erected. So this section of the 
 Department of Brooklyn was made doubly para 
 doxical: by the presence of the dingy, unesthetic 
 
 35
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 barracks of toil and by the old-world cottage they 
 embraced. Here, for some strange reason, had the 
 march of progress been brought to an abrupt halt. 
 Here lived Angus Craig, the Scotch steel engraver. 
 
 Early in the evening of American Handicap 
 day two men could be seen through an open 
 window of the cottage engaged in that medita 
 tive recreation, a game of chess. Both were in 
 shirt-sleeve neglige, which constituted about the 
 only point of resemblance between them. One 
 was a man of about fifty, although he looked older 
 by reason of two large furrows between his deep- 
 set eyes. His strongly Scottish face was sur 
 mounted by a tousled mass of reddish-gray hair, 
 and far down under his chin was a little semicircle 
 of whiskers. This was Angus Craig 
 
 The other was a short, thick-set Englishman, 
 with a round, ruddy face of the bulldog type, save 
 that his nose faintly suggested that of a pig. He 
 was as full of opinions as a nut of meat, and fond 
 of expressing them in a loud and sententious voice 
 that carried conviction to the majority of his 
 fellows. This was Geoffrey Fairbrother, like 
 Angus Craig a skilled steel engraver and a crony 
 of years standing. As such he took liberties. 
 
 "Checkmate," he snorted, "I ve done it again. 
 Whatever s the matter o you, Angus? That 
 makes two to one." 
 
 "My mind s not in my warrk the nicht, Geoffrey. 
 I can t get that silk-hatted body out o my head. 
 The fair presoomption o him, to think I d sell 
 my bit property for his factory!" 
 
 "Well, all the rest ave sold, aven t they, or else 
 bonded their land and buildings?" 
 
 36
 
 FOUR AGAINST ONE 
 
 The Scotchman ran his fingers through the 
 fringe beneath his chin. 
 
 "Aye, ye may say that, but not one of em has 
 a hame here. This has been my bidin for near 
 thirty year. But dinna let s speak of it." 
 
 "Shall we ave another game?" asked the good- 
 hearted Englishman, anxious to divert his friend s 
 thoughts. 
 
 "No, it s ower near time for the meetin ." 
 
 Craig carefully put away his chessmen, beauti 
 fully carved by himself in ivory given him by an 
 old sea captain. 
 
 Fairbrother lit his pipe and stared out into the 
 gathering dusk. The great light-discs of the 
 city had not yet been flooded, and the occasional 
 gleam from some factory forge, telling of night 
 work, pierced the shadows. 
 
 Craig came to the window and peered up the 
 dismal street, coughing vigorously as he caught an 
 indrawn breath of Fairbrother s cloud of smoke. 
 
 "Ach, ach they re coming the noo. They ll be 
 ach, ach Ford and Langmaid, I m thinking." 
 
 As the two visitors came up the graveled walk, 
 it might be noted that one was tall and the other 
 short. Later under the lamp-light Angus still 
 held to the practically obsolete kerosene their 
 characteristics were better revealed. 
 
 A grizzled, dried-up morsel of humanity was 
 Joseph Langmaid, looking every one of his fifty 
 years. He was a shoe machine operator, and his 
 sharp little eyes had a habit of darting from one 
 object to another, a trick acquired from the watch 
 ing of many mechanisms. He was a wonderful 
 fellow at talking, with a sonorous voice, strangely 
 out of consonance with his small body, and a 
 
 37
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 steady stream of words which he delighted to 
 bring to a sudden stop then, shifting his glance 
 to various of his hearers, to roll out the end and 
 clincher of his argument with great deliberation 
 and impressiveness. His gestures were methodi 
 cal and continuous, as if influenced by the tending 
 of machines. 
 
 Quite opposite in physical attributes was his 
 companion, Luke Ford. A much younger individ 
 ual and a lank Yankee of the ancient type, he was a 
 man of silence. He was a prodigious and constant 
 devourer of tobacco, and he chewed with the large, 
 swaying, ruminative manner of a cow with her 
 cud. Nothing escaped his keen observation. 
 Now and then he would open his mouth as if about 
 to speak, and then, as if reconsidering, would lapse 
 into his reflective movement of the jaws. But that 
 Luke Ford could be a man of action was evidenced 
 by the occasional flash of his eyes. Rarely he ex 
 pressed his distaste for the endless arguments of 
 his friends, but generally he was silently content to 
 bide his time, strong in the conviction of his mis 
 sion in the world and that he would one day ful 
 fil it. 
 
 These four men, unlike as they were in personal 
 attributes, were held together by a common love 
 for sociological studies and theories. They were 
 all educated to a fair degree in the sciences, and 
 they read much, both in private and aloud in their 
 "meetin " from works on industrial, financial and 
 moral problems. They had all written treatises of 
 more or less merit for the journals devoted to eco 
 nomics, and Ford was commonly reputed to be 
 writing a book on the immorality of class distinc 
 tion. Twice a week they met at Angus Craig s 
 
 38
 
 FOUR AGAINST ONE 
 
 cottage for the reading and discussing of their 
 favorite works. New books, too, they reviewed in 
 their sessions, and woe to the luckless author who 
 should be stamped as heretical by the combined 
 force of their four intellects. 
 
 This night it was Langmaid s turn to read, and 
 that worthy cleared his throat and moistened his 
 lips with pleasurable anticipation. Angus Craig 
 sat himself down in a large wooden rocking-chair, 
 and, with closed eyes, gently put himself in motion. 
 Ford bit an enormous quid from his piece of black 
 tobacco, and Fairbrother fanned his red face, 
 which was growing warm under the lamp-light. 
 Langmaid felt that the psychological moment had 
 arrived. 
 
 "I will now read, friends," he began, "some 
 random selections from a book called The Power 
 of Manhood, by Prof. Sabin, of the Socialist Uni 
 versity of the Australian Republic. Brief com 
 ment will be in order, as usual ; brief comment/ I 
 said;" and he threw his rapidly shifting glance 
 from one to the other of his hearers. 
 
 " A government exists in theory by the consent 
 of the governed; but if the consent is obtained, 
 which is dubious, it is extorted beneath the pres 
 sure of moneybags. 
 
 "Hech, mon, but that s a canny phrase," inter 
 jected Craig. "It s true, and fause both, which I 
 wull expound later." 
 
 " The world may not be ripe as yet for an up 
 rising which shall force the principle of equal 
 rights and equal burdens. 
 
 "Ripe? It s rotten," growled Fairbrother. 
 
 " The aristocracy of wealth is far more inimical 
 to the people than that of blood and the favor of 
 
 39
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 kings, for the man whose power rests on money 
 has respect for only two things: his own wealth 
 and the man with more. 
 
 "And I say to that," continued the reader, "that 
 precious little respect most of them have for them 
 selves, with their silly parties and their empty 
 twaddle to kill time. I tell you, friends, the day is 
 coming and he paused for effect, and then 
 added in his deliberate fashion, "when these things 
 shall be no more on earth !" 
 
 "Amen," said Craig, whose closed eyes added 
 impressiveness to his prayer. 
 
 " The people of every time have had a weapon 
 ready to their hand. Here and now it is the 
 ballot; what the world needs is more direct prac 
 tical politics. 
 
 Luke Ford s thin face flushed, and he moved as 
 if to rise to his feet, but did not. 
 
 "What it needs," he almost shouted in his 
 raucous, penetrating tones, "is more action and 
 less talk. I could But what was in his heart 
 to do his friends did not then learn, for he sud 
 denly lapsed into himself, tore off another piece of 
 tobacco with his sharp teeth, and sank into his 
 customary silence. 
 
 The reading had proceeded not very much 
 farther when Philip Craig reached the cottage. 
 He smiled as he came within sound of the droning 
 voice of Langmaid, and quietly made his way in 
 side without knocking. His entrance to the little 
 sitting room made no more stir than had the ap 
 pearance of his father s old gray cat a little while 
 before. Angus merely nodded in silence, and the 
 reading went on without a break. 
 
 "Capital, h mph," snorted Langmaid, as he fin- 
 40
 
 FOUR AGAINST ONE 
 
 ished reading a paragraph in which the obnoxious 
 word had been prominent, "what has capital ever 
 done for the amelioration of the condition of labor? 
 Capital fattens when labor starves. No wonder it 
 forces us to short rations," and he transfixed Philip 
 with a glare from his steely little eyes, as if defying 
 him to combat. 
 
 "My dear Mr. Langmaid," said the young man 
 pacifically, "aren t you a bit hard on capital? It is 
 spent foolishly, senselessly if you will, but not a 
 dollar comes from the strong box of the rich that 
 does not eventually find its level in the wages of 
 the poor." 
 
 "Nonsense. Theory exploded long ago. Me 
 diaeval political economy," returned the reader 
 stubbornly. 
 
 "It has always seemed to me," continued Philip, 
 "that capital is to labor as the water to the mill- 
 wheel ; without the one the other sends no corn to 
 the grist." 
 
 "You re a great one to talk," retorted Fair- 
 brother, ceasing his fanning for the sake of argu 
 ment, "you who deserted your father for a pluto 
 crat s protection. You re a renegade." 
 
 If the younger Craig s temper rose a little at this 
 name-slinging, he gave no sign of it. 
 
 "I ve often noticed, Mr. Fairbrother," he re 
 turned quietly, "that the man without an argu 
 ment ready always has an epithet at hand." 
 
 "There, there, let s have no squabbling," broke 
 in Angus, "Philip has his own opeenions, and, 
 good or bad, he s a richt to em. Thought is one 
 thing that s free. We re four against ane, and 
 that s not fair anyway."
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Despite the good-natured protestations of 
 Philip, it seemed to be the consensus of opinion 
 that the "meetin " had been effectually broken up 
 by his coming. After a decent lapse of time the 
 three visitors took their departure, and father and 
 son were left alone. 
 
 42
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 EMBERS OF THE PAST. 
 
 HE Craigs, father and son, were alike and yet 
 very dissimilar. In his sinewy, clean-cut 
 frame the younger man resembled the elder, 
 and in voice there was the same rather high- 
 pitched and incisive, yet musical tone. The long, 
 slender fingers of the father, kept soft and shapely 
 by the delicate work of his profession, were repro 
 duced exactly in the son. 
 
 But in the faces of the two men one could have 
 read no relationship. Philip had nothing of his 
 father s Scottish cast, nothing of the reddish tinge 
 of hair and skin, nothing of the prominent brows. 
 Some beautiful dark American woman had evi 
 dently bequeathed to him her features and eyes, to 
 be transmuted by masculinity into a strong and 
 attractive countenance. 
 
 "Weel, lad, how fares it wi ye?" asked Angus 
 at length. 
 
 "Very well, indeed, father. In fact, I ve to-day 
 been made confidential secretary to Mr. Norton. 
 The salary is large and the advancement great. It 
 was a complete surprise to me." 
 
 "So. I trust ye ll do ye er duty, for we a maun 
 strive for that. But ye er in the power o the 
 reech, boy, and ye d best keep a watchfu e e lest 
 ye coom to harm. Oh, the strength of wealth ; I ve 
 
 43
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 felt it this verra day. It e en grudges us our 
 hames." 
 
 "What do you mean, father?" 
 
 "I ll tell ye. This noon a smooth appearin body 
 wi* a tall shiny hat cooms up on the porch and 
 knocks verra politely. I leaves my bite and sup, 
 and goes to let him in. 
 
 " Is this Maister Angus Craig that I ve heard 
 sae much aboot? says he. My name s Holloway. 
 
 " I m Angus Craig, at ye er sairvice, says I, 
 though I dinna ken why ye should have heard 
 o me. 
 
 " They say ye er a fair clever warrkman and a 
 mon o abeelity in ither lines, he replies. But I ve 
 coom tae see ye mainly on a matter o business. 
 How wad ye like tae sell ye er property, here ? 
 
 " My hame? says I, all ta en aback, not for a 
 the gowd ye could pit inside it. 
 
 " Weel, I m authorized tae offer ye five thou 
 sand dollars for the place, he goes on, verra easy 
 like. A seendicate is goin tae pit up a great fac 
 tory on this site, and your land is needed. 
 
 " Gae back tae ye er seendicate, says I, and 
 teil em that they havna money enow in all their 
 strong-boxes tae buy out Angus Craig. 
 
 " Better conseeder a bit, Maister Craig, says the 
 mon. Even if ye dinna sell, there ll be a great, 
 noisy factory all around ye for the making o pneu 
 matic engines. Ye ll be driven crazy by the racket. 
 Maybe ye conseeder five thousand too little; if so, 
 1 think I may induce the seendicate tae pay ye 
 seven. But not a dollar mair. Ye d better be 
 reasonable, Maister Craig. 
 
 " Maister Holloway/ says I, once and for a 
 the place is not for sale. Good day tae ye. 
 
 44
 
 EMBERS OF THE PAST 
 
 A feeling of pity for his father arose in Philip s 
 heart. Hitherto the elder man had seemed to him 
 the incarnation of strength, a sort of rock incapa 
 ble of erosion by the waves of circumstance. Now 
 he was human like the rest, threatened by a force 
 that would use every endeavor to crush him. And 
 for the first time, too, he thought of his father as 
 growing old. 
 
 "Ye ll be wonderin what makes me sae sair 
 against partin wi the place, perhaps, lad. Coom 
 wi me for a bit." 
 
 Together they walked into the garden behind 
 the cottage. Under the faint luminosity from the 
 light discs in the street they could easily see their 
 way about. The old man led to a vine-covered 
 mound in one corner. 
 
 There s auld Neb s grave, lad. Ye ken the 
 dog. For fourteen year he was leal and true. He 
 saved ye er life once when a runaway horse was 
 comin doun the street. Shall that be leveled for 
 a mill? 
 
 "Here s the rose-bush planted by your mither 
 before ye were born. She nursed it into life and 
 fought off the wee bit pests that wanted its sap. 
 Do ye think I m the mon tae let a gang o warrk- 
 men tear up its roots and cast it tae the rubbish- 
 heap ? Not while God leaves a spark o life in this 
 puir body. Coom now into the house." 
 
 Philip followed as in a dream. This passion- 
 racked, grief-shaken man his stern, unemotional 
 father ! A sudden glimpse of the true nature of his 
 sire came to him in that moment, as, when a great 
 gale sometimes blows the mist from a mountain, 
 one sees all at once the hitherto hidden top. He 
 
 45
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 wondered to what extent he himself had been en 
 dowed with like attributes. 
 
 Angus seized a lamp with trembling hands and 
 went unsteadily up the narrow stairway to the sec 
 ond floor. Fumbling at the lock of a door Philip 
 did not remember ever having seen opened, he at 
 length threw it back and entered the room, hold 
 ing the light high above his head. A faintly sweet, 
 warm odor, subtly suggestive of death, was wafted 
 out to the young man s senses. He paused at the 
 threshold, held by an indefinable dread. 
 
 "Coom in, lad, coom," said his father gently, 
 "there are nae ghaists here except the wraiths o 
 memory. This was ye er mither s room. In that 
 chair she used to sit and sing to ye when ye were 
 a wee bairn. There s the cradle close by in which 
 ye used to lie and listen to her sweet voice. On 
 that couch she de ed; I moved her there because 
 she said she wouldna bring unhappiness to the bed 
 where I must sleep after she had gone. But I 
 never used this room again. All s just as she left 
 it, only kept neat and clean as she would like. 
 There s not a day passed since she went but I ve 
 coom here and prayed, and often I ve seen her 
 sweet face hoverin ower me. But it wouldna stay, 
 lad, it wouldna stay. Oh, Philip, ye er faither s 
 had a sair cross tae bear !" 
 
 Angus Craig set the lamp down gently on a 
 quaint mahogany table. There at its centre was 
 a little old-fashioned work-basket, still gay with 
 its red cushions and bright with polished steel. At 
 the sight of it the old man s grief was stirred anew. 
 He buried his head within his outstretched arms, 
 and sobs shook his spare frame. 
 
 Philip s eyes moistened with sympathy and a 
 46
 
 EMBERS OF THE PAST 
 
 pang of self-reproach moved him to unaccus 
 tomed tenderness. He laid his hand gently on his 
 father s grizzled head. 
 
 "Don t grieve so, father," he said, as softly as 
 to a sick child, "perhaps the matter can be adjusted 
 somehow. I never realized how much you loved 
 this place. You never used to take me into your 
 confidence, you know." 
 
 Angus raised his head, and wiped his eyes with 
 his great red handkerchief. 
 
 "Ye think I m a harrd mon, Philip," he ex 
 claimed, "and perhaps I am. But do ye ken what 
 made me so? How auld do ye think me? Aboot 
 sixty-five or so, I doubt. Weel, I m not ; I m but 
 fifty-two. Do ye ken what made me an auld mon 
 before my time?" 
 
 "How should I?" 
 
 "Weel, I ll tell ye the noo, though tis late. It 
 may be better so, for ye re a mon settled, and per 
 haps can better understand. 
 
 "Twenty-five year ago, or mair, I was an en 
 graver in a great watch factory in this city. The 
 wage was gude, and I was a happy mon. Ye er 
 mither and I lived here in peace and comfort, and 
 when ye came yersel I was that glad I sang for 
 joy. Ye never heard me sing, lad no, nor never 
 wull, I m thinking. 
 
 "Weel, there came a time by and by when the 
 men in the factory went on strike. There was nae 
 fault wi their employer, for he was a kind mon, 
 and treated us fair. There was nae question of 
 wage, either. The trouble was all ower a sort of 
 foreman who had been stiff-backed against the 
 manager, and had inseested on doing some things 
 in his ain way. He was finally deescharged, and 
 
 47
 
 OA T SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 then the men gave notice that if he weren t taken 
 back, they would gae on strike ; he was high in the 
 union, and a great mon for the gab. He weren t 
 reinstated, and the ithers, three thousand of em, 
 struck all but Angus Craig. He believed the 
 employer richt, and he stuck to him, the one mon 
 oot of a those thousands who went to warrk the 
 next dav and the next." 
 
 Philip looked at his father with admiration. 
 This was the Angus Craig he knew, the staunch 
 soul who would dare anything for opinion s sake. 
 
 "You were a brave man," he said. 
 
 "Weel, perhaps, though it s no much bravery 
 to stand by the richt or what ye think is the richt. 
 I paid a dear price for it, though. I was scorned 
 and hooted and mobbed. I was ca ed Judas/ and 
 my life was threatened. Warse yet, a crowd of 
 hoodlums, who took the excuse of the strike to 
 vent their own rage for disorder, came to this 
 house one nicht and cursed me and threw stanes 
 at the windows. Ye er puir mither, delicate as she 
 was, was turribly frightened, and I believe her de 
 cline began from that nicht. But she was leal, and 
 never made ane warrd o complaint. She believed 
 me richt, and that was enow for her." 
 
 "She was braver even than you." 
 
 "Ye may weel say that, mon, for she was. a 
 woman. . . . Weel, the factory manager, Glasby, 
 got thegither some outside help, and ran on for a 
 while. But I could see that things went hard. 
 Ane day I was called to Maister Glasby s office. I 
 went in expecting a bit more wage or a higher 
 poseetion for stickin to the company." 
 
 "Maister Glasby was verra affable, and asked 
 after ye er mither and you like an auld friend. 
 
 48
 
 EMBERS OF THE PAST 
 
 Then he began to talk about the strike. He told 
 me how hard it was to get skeelled men outside the 
 unions, how business had fa en off, and how the 
 shareholders, resenting the seetuation, had held a 
 meeting and at the advice o the president o the 
 company voted to end the strike by taking back 
 the discharged foreman and a the ithers. 
 
 " A richt/ says I, Tm glad the trouble s to be 
 settled. Then I saw there was something else on 
 his mind. He hemmed and hawed, and didna 
 seem to ken how to begin. 
 
 " Anything else, sir? I asked. 
 
 " Yes, Craig, there is one ither matter, he says, 
 that I dinna like to speak about. Ye ve been a 
 gude mon, and stuck tae us through thick and 
 thin. But the men are doun on ye, and make it a 
 condeetion o returning to warrk that ye leave the 
 factory. 
 
 " That I be deescharged, ye mean, I suppose, 
 says I. 
 
 " Weel, that s aboot it, Craig, says he. It s a 
 thing we a hate tae do, but beesiness is beesiness, 
 and it s the fortunes o warr. We ve lost the fight, 
 Craig, you and me. 
 
 "I said nae mair, but put on my hat and started 
 tae gae. 
 
 Wait a minute, Craig, says Glasby, there s 
 something that ll please ye. I am authorized to 
 pay ye a whole year s wage as a testimonial of our 
 regard for ye. 
 
 " Please me?" says I, full o wrath and scorn 
 that I couldna keep doun, please me tae take siller 
 for bein disgraced and discarded? I d rot in the 
 pool-house fairst. Tell that tae ye er stockholders, 
 Maister Glasby, and wish em long life and pros- 
 
 49
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 perity from a Scotchman who made a fule o him- 
 sel in their sairvice. 
 
 As the father finished this part of his recital his 
 voice grew strong and a faint smile as of triumph 
 in the remembrance of his sturdy manhood illu 
 mined the thin face. To add to the impressiveness 
 of the picture the lamp-flame sank lower and 
 lower, and feebly flickered away. Then the room 
 was filled with the soft, pale glow of the city s 
 light-discs, diffused equally in every nook and cor 
 ner. With its antique furnishings and its quaint 
 and simple utensils of an age long dead, it seemed 
 a habitation of ghosts. If soft whispers and the 
 rustling of a woman s dress had come to Philip s 
 ears, he knew he would have felt no surprise. 
 There reigned a stillness which he would not be 
 the first to break. 
 
 "The warst was yet tae come ; I had tae tell the 
 news tae ye er mither. For days I didna dare, and 
 used to go out as usual, pretendin I was at warrk, 
 when I could get nane. But she had to ken at last. 
 She was brave as ever, but I could see that it was 
 a great shock. Yet w r eak as she was, she bright 
 ened whenever she looked at you. The expenses 
 went on for nursin and medicine and a bit dainty 
 food noo and then. But she God love her 
 faded mair and mair, till ane nicht she whuspered 
 goodby to you and me and won awa." 
 
 The full tide of remembered sorrow swept in 
 upon Angus soul, and the tears flowed without 
 restraint. Then he seemed to remember the pres 
 ence of the other man, his son, but still a stranger 
 to his emotions, and he stilled the storm. 
 
 "Now do you wonder, Philip, that I hate the 
 power o the reech? Oh, the greed for gowd ! It 
 
 50
 
 EMBERS OF THE PAST 
 
 makes the strong trample the weak and the weak 
 curse the weaker. It makes enemies o brithers, 
 and puts the de il into the hearts o babes, a most. 
 It sends the love o God cowerin back tae heaven, 
 and fills the airth wi rapine and tumult. It shakes 
 the dice for the verra clothes of our Saviour, after 
 it has betrayed him for the pieces o siller. Philip, 
 lad, keep a guard on ye er immortal soul ; ye re in 
 great danger the noo; ye re in the temple o the 
 high priest o Mammon. Beware, mon, beware."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MOONLIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 JOHN PETER NORTON sat in the library of 
 his home on the evening of the day on which 
 he became world-famed, and reviewed the 
 events of the afternoon in his peculiarly analytic 
 and calculating way. By virtue of superior 
 bunches of muscles in a horse s legs and that un 
 known something called courage in a horse s 
 brain, he had been sent further along his chosen 
 pathway than by months or years of the most care 
 ful and energetic labors on his own part. Prestige 
 had come to him with the rush of many feet, and 
 he knew that his battle against exclusiveness was 
 nearly over. 
 
 The beautiful room was unlighted, save by the 
 moonbeams that slanted in through the broad 
 bow-window formed of one immense semi-circle of 
 glass. Just beyond, the stiff, pointed trees and the 
 marble seats of an Italian garden were clearly vis 
 ible under the flood of radiance. One could al 
 most see the towering fence of gold-capped steel 
 bars and the gates of massive masonry that shut 
 the Norton palace from the street. The estate 
 was not large, for it was in reality a city residence, 
 one of the hundreds congregated in a sightly sub 
 urb of the Department of Brooklyn, where lived 
 the multi-millionaires of the great metropolis in a 
 sort of concentric colony; "John Peter" was very 
 
 52
 
 MOONLIGHT AND SHADOW 
 
 near the centre of this circle of superb luxury and 
 elegance. He could not have had more land even 
 had he desired it, for money had long since ceased 
 to be a purchasing power in this region. Indeed, 
 he had obtained the few acres he possessed only 
 by the exercise of his utmost resources of intimida 
 tion. Through a certain stock "corner" he held 
 the owner of the land in a strangling grip, and the 
 price of release was the property. The price was 
 paid. 
 
 From the towers of the great stone house, 
 which, by reason of its turrets, battlements and 
 embrasures, had become known as the "castle," 
 could be seen the encircling dwellings of the peo 
 ple of less wealth, and beyond them a stretch of 
 country dividing by a half-mile or so the pride of 
 the aristocracy of wealth from the meaner houses 
 of the poor and the outer limits of the giant city 
 where lay the real wealth of the rich a sleeping 
 power for good or evil. 
 
 But tonight, thinking only of himself and his 
 plans for further greatness, John Norton sat in 
 his library watching the moonlight as it fell upon 
 a polished table, where his hand was resting, and 
 woke into life the fire of the diamond on his finger. 
 The Hashing points of color seemed somehow typi 
 cal of his own success, and he moved his hand 
 gently to increase the brilliant scintillations of the 
 gem/ 
 
 He smiled as he recalled the eagerness of many 
 to meet him that afternoon : how Van Renssalaer 
 Cruger Low, one of the most conservative of the 
 middle-aged men of millions and of family, had 
 extended him and his wife an invitation to dine 
 "en famille;" how several of the most prominent 
 
 53
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 members of the turf club had insisted that a dinner 
 be given in his honor, and how he had been still 
 more insistent that he, as the fortunate winner of 
 the American, should be host and not guest. He 
 wished to pick his men and not have them chosen 
 for him. Already he was planning the details of 
 the banquet, which he determined should surpass 
 anything since the days of Rome. He would have 
 the foremost men of the hour there; of several of 
 them he felt morally certain. The others would 
 follow, he was sure. 
 
 "After all," he reasoned, half aloud, "men, be 
 they barbarians or of the highest type of culture, 
 are much like sheep; they ll follow their leader 
 over any kind of a stone wall if only the tinkle of 
 the bell-wether is sufficiently alluring." 
 
 A gentle tap on the door interrupted his 
 schemes and his philosophy. 
 
 "It s I, John," said the sweet, low voice of his 
 wife. "Are you busy?" 
 
 "No, indeed, Harriet," returned the husband 
 cordially, "come over to the window. Here is 
 your favorite chair already placed." And he 
 kissed her as she took her seat. 
 
 "But why are you in the dark, John?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Don t call it the dark, my dear. This is as 
 beautiful a light as any we know ; I like to sit in it." 
 
 "As much as you did thirty years ago?" she 
 queried gently. 
 
 "Ah, thirty years ago ! That was moonlight for 
 you, Harriet. It was the friend of our courting 
 days, the good genius of a sleigh ride, the discreet 
 lamp of all the lovers lanes we walked together. 
 
 54
 
 MOONLIGHT AND SHADOW 
 
 And to think that this is the same moon. No 
 wonder I m fond of it." 
 
 She looked at him with tenderness and gratitude 
 shining from her mild eyes. It mattered not what 
 he was to the world, how hard and cruel he was 
 called, he was the John Norton who won her when 
 lovers were many and he was poor. 
 
 "But Harriet," he continued, more soberly, "it 
 seems to me that you are not wholly well. I 
 thought I saw a drawn look in your face at the 
 race to-day. And, pardon me, but I really believe 
 there s a wrinkle or two." 
 
 "I m sure there are many of them, John, dear; 
 it s time, you know," she replied laughingly. 
 
 "Time? Not a bit of it. You are just as young 
 as you were well, the night I punched Solon 
 White s head for him out at Elder Chase s well 
 because he dared ask you to walk home with him 
 from the donation party at the parsonage. You 
 remember, Solon, of course, Harriet?" 
 
 "Of course I do. And I remember, too, that 
 you were wrong." 
 
 "But I licked him," said Norton, triumphantly. 
 
 His wife laughed merrily. 
 
 "Then it s not always true that the battle is to 
 the right. You were surely wrong, because I had 
 hinted to Solon you were late, you know that 
 I was afraid I might have to walk home alone." 
 
 "He was an impudent rascal. Like a lot of the 
 others, he thought that because you were a school 
 teacher anybody had a right to beau you about. . . . 
 But about your health are you really well?" 
 
 "Yes, I am well, but- 
 
 "But what, dear?" 
 
 "Well, I I am anxious." 
 55
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT, 
 
 "Anxious ? About what or whom ?" 
 
 She made no reply. 
 
 "Come, Harriet," he persisted, "tell me what 
 you mean by anxious. 
 
 "John, I am anxious for you." 
 
 "Me?" he exclaimed in amused amazement, 
 "why, how is that?" 
 
 "This struggle this battle for great wealth; 
 when will it end ?" 
 
 "When I do, Harriet." 
 
 Her tender femininity shrank from the harsh 
 expression, as a delicate plant from a biting wind. 
 He realized the cruelty of his speech, and hastened 
 to amend it. 
 
 "I mean, Harriet," he said, "that I shall always 
 be active in affairs; I could scarcely live other 
 wise." 
 
 "But why?" she persisted. "We surely have 
 more money than we or our child can ever hope to 
 employ. When will you begin to enjoy it, John?" 
 
 "Enjoy it? I never can, never do enjoy it. One 
 million, two millions, fifty millions, are all alike 
 they are but weapons. The soldier cherishes his 
 sw r ord, the general his guns, because through them 
 they can make their power felt. They do not 
 enjoy them otherwise. Money: what is it? The 
 ruin of the strong, the temptation of the weak. 
 To me it is not money, but the emblem of power. 
 You know as no other of my early struggles, of the 
 obstacles that money threw in the way of an honest 
 fight for a home a fight for you. You know how 
 I -vowed that I would win how I did win. And 
 the man who fights with money must fight for 
 more money, or his antagonists will laugh at him 
 for a fool or spurn him as a coward. I owe it to 
 
 56
 
 MOONLIGHT AND SHADOW 
 
 myself, to my past, to my friends who trust me, 
 who have stood shoulder to shoulder with me in 
 the fight that I go on till I have done all that is 
 to be done. Money? Bah! Often I sicken of it, 
 its false glitter, its hollow ring, its sneering crisp- 
 ness. I m not certain sometimes but I should be 
 happier to-day were you and Helen and I still out 
 on the arid and thankless farm where I first met 
 you." 
 
 The gentle woman gazed at her husband in a 
 sort of waking dream. It was all so strange, so 
 new. Rarely had he made so long an utterance to 
 her, never had he so pulled aside the curtain of his 
 mind to let her see the real drama that was going 
 forward there. From that moment a new under 
 standing of the strong, silent man came to her ; in 
 the intensity of that revelation she knew not 
 whether to feel reassured or more troubled still. 
 
 Something of this uncertainty John Norton saw 
 in his wife s face. His animation, unknown even 
 to his best friends, died away, and the sparkle in 
 his eyes fled into the night. His voice lost its 
 hardness as he said kindly : 
 
 "There, there; don t let me frighten you. It is 
 strange that in nearly thirty years of married life 
 this is the first time you have ever said a word that 
 hinted at regret. Why is it ? Why do you worry 
 about me now ?" 
 
 "I have never before felt the need. Your busi 
 ness was your life-work. I rejoiced in your suc 
 cess because it was your happiness. I watched the 
 growth of your plans because they ivcre yours, 
 John, not because I coveted the money they 
 poured into my lap. But never till to-day did I 
 
 57
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 realize that the incessant strife of a quarter of a 
 century has worn upon you." 
 
 He laughed in his quiet, rather inexpressive 
 fashion. 
 
 "Worn upon me? What on earth put that idea 
 into your level little head?" 
 
 "Because to-day for the first time I saw your 
 nerves unstrung." 
 
 "At the race?" he queried, with a smile. 
 
 "No, not at the race," she returned, gently. 
 "After. When you came to us at the stables. 
 Something had happened at the clubhouse; I 
 could see it." 
 
 He threw his keen glance at her still delicately 
 pretty profile outlined against the moonlight. 
 Better than all the rest she could read him, he 
 thought, and he marveled. 
 
 "I was a trifle bothered," he admitted, "and 
 well, the race was a bit fatiguing. ... By the 
 way, I met Sandstrom." 
 
 "The Count? It is foolish, I know, but I can 
 not conquer a dread of that man." 
 
 "Dread?" he laughed, "wait till you see him. 
 He is about as opposite to an inspirer of dread as 
 can be. A well-bred man who looks as if a long 
 line of ancestors had preferred weak claret and 
 water to the national hop beverage. He s as 
 harmless as Helen s angora kitten. But as for me, 
 Harriet, I ve been in harness for thirty odd years, 
 and there I ll stay as long as there is a load to 
 draw." And he patted his wife s head affection 
 ately. 
 
 "Well, dear," she said, "as long as money stays 
 in your head and does not trouble your heart, I 
 shall not care." 
 
 58
 
 MOONLIGHT AND SHADOW 
 
 "Don t you abuse money because I have," re 
 turned Norton, with mock indignation, "it s a 
 good servant after all." 
 
 "But a bad master," she insinuated. 
 
 "It hasn t mastered me yet. The almighty 
 dollar, I have found, is chiefly denounced by those 
 who need it most." 
 
 "But it isn t essential to happiness, is it, John?" 
 she asked, wistfully. 
 
 "Well, money may not sow the seed of happi 
 ness, but it is often a great fertilizer for it." 
 
 "Yet after all, it is only a mighty slave driver." 
 
 "Well, my dear, it sha n t drive me forever. 
 Some day I will retire from active life, and we will 
 spend our declining years gazing into the fireplace 
 or at the moon. Seriously, Harriet, I have a duty 
 to perform to myself and to others. I could no 
 more drop my obligations now, with honor to my 
 self, than I could desert you and Helen. Women 
 do not always understand such things, but a very 
 rich man has moral obligations far greater than 
 any of a financial nature can possibly be. Should 
 I lay down my burden now, thousands would 
 surfer. I must go on to the end. . . . But the 
 moonlight and its shadows have aroused dismal 
 fancies. Let us banish them." 
 
 He touched a tiny button, one of many buried 
 in the stamped leather walls. There was a slight 
 tremor of the air and at once a flood of amber radi 
 ance filled the room in its every part. 
 
 "There," he exclaimed, "my moonlight paradise 
 is gone. I fancy the Garden of Eden s only illu 
 mination was moonlight if there ever was a 
 Garden of Eden." 
 
 59
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Well," retorted his wife, "if the Garden of Eden 
 story isn t true, it s rather hard on the serpent." 
 
 "Very," he assented. "Ho, hum; who would 
 think that we, the envied Mr. and Mrs. John Peter 
 Norton, would indulge in such a strain of talk? 
 It s true, indeed, that one-half the world doesn t 
 know how the other half lives." 
 
 "But it isn t because they don t try to find out," 
 said his wife, with a touch of half-remembered 
 indignation. 
 
 Light steps and a little burst of song just outside 
 were a welcome diversion to both. And when 
 Helen came in, her face radiant with anticipation, 
 John Norton found himself catching something of 
 her buoyancy. 
 
 "Oh, father," she cried, "I have been hunting 
 for you everywhere. I want " 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course you want, " he interrupted 
 indulgently, "I could see that in your eyes." 
 
 "But this is different different from anything. 
 Just listen : this morning in the park I saw a little 
 crippled boy riding in a cart hauled by his brother. 
 Poor tot, I pitied him, and asked all about him. 
 And I even got James to follow them home, and 
 he says the family is wretchedly poor, but seemed 
 honest and worth helping. And I am going to 
 help them. Now I want some money." 
 
 John Norton looked at his pretty daughter, all 
 a-flutter with the excitement of her plea, and 
 pulled out a cheque-book. From it he tore a leaf, 
 wrote something and handed the slip of paper to 
 the girl. 
 
 "This will pay for your cripple s treatment by 
 Dr. Murch, who s the best man in America at the 
 business," and, after a moment s thought, he 
 
 60
 
 MOONLIGHT AND SHADOW 
 
 added, "Your appeal suggests something. 
 Would it strike your fancy should I enable you to 
 found a hospital for children?" 
 
 "Me? Oh, father!" 
 
 "Well, then, it s settled. I ll secure a site to 
 morrow, and set an architect at work right away. 
 Have you, as the founder, any choice for a loca 
 tion?" 
 
 "No-o-o only let it be in the country where the 
 poor little things can see the grass and flowers and 
 hear the birds. They must get well then." 
 
 "It shall be as you like. And, Helen, this is 
 almost as good a way to spend money as on horse- 
 racing, eh?" 
 
 "Better; far better," replied the girl, earnestly. 
 She could not be jocose at such a moment. "Rac 
 ing is a pretty picture, but it s cruel. This is all 
 kindness. There s no comparison." 
 
 "Millions upon millions have been poured into 
 libraries and colleges," continued Norton, 
 thoughtfully. "Why not turn a few into places 
 for building up feeble little children into men and 
 women able to study and read in them?" 
 
 "Oh, you re the dearest father in the world," ex 
 claimed Helen enthusiastically, "and and the 
 best man, too. You re always doing something 
 that s fine and noble and " 
 
 "H-s-sh ; it s a state secret, little girl. You might 
 have difficulty in convincing the street that you 
 are correct, able pleader though you are. . . . 
 Hello, what s this?" 
 
 A servant stood before him with a card on a 
 golden tray. The card bore the name of a man 
 who three days before had tried to defraud him of 
 some railroad bonds, and who was now come to 
 
 61
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 sue for mercy. Norton s face was transformed; 
 the hard lines swept into their accustomed places 
 and his voice was as cold as the ring of steel upon 
 ice as he said to the butler : 
 
 "Tell the gentleman I will see him for exactly 
 three minutes." Mrs. Norton sighed, but there 
 was pleasure, too, in the end of the evening s talk ; 
 she was filled with gratitude that her daughter, 
 spite of John Norton s prodigal indulgence, was 
 still unspoiled and a girl with a heart. 
 
 62
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 INDULGING A WHIM. 
 
 IT) HILIP CRAIG S somewhat uneasy journey 
 next morning to the great office of John P. 
 Norton was interrupted by a blockade in the 
 central subway of the Municipal. Something had 
 broken clown, it seemed, and great was the indig 
 nation of the passengers. 
 
 "Hang these new-fangled ether-motors," fumed 
 Craig s seatmate, "the old electricity was bad 
 enough, but this is twice this week I ve been de 
 layed. Now in my day " 
 
 But the bit of ancient history was cut short by 
 the renewed speeding up of the train, and in a few 
 seconds Philip found himself at the terminal and 
 upon the gigantic lifting platform that raised the 
 multitude to the street. 
 
 He was late in reaching the office, and ascer 
 tained that his chief was already closeted with 
 someone, while the anterooms were filled, early as 
 it was, with the heterogeneous crowd that daily 
 besieges a great financier. Most of them would 
 never reach "John Peter," and they knew it; yet 
 even to be seen there gave them a certain stamp of 
 importance in their smaller sets, and they waited 
 patiently for the inevitable denial, more or less 
 courteous according as they looked more or less 
 prosperous. Others were well-known clients and 
 associates of the Norton house. 
 
 63
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 As Craig reached his newly-assigned office next 
 the very penetralia of the temple, as it were, he 
 saw a door open, and Henry Partridge, a promi 
 nent real estate dealer, come out. Then Norton 
 appeared. 
 
 "Ah, Craig, just in time," he said cordially. 
 "Come in. This is a matter in which you are to be 
 specially concerned." 
 
 In the beautiful room that served John Norton 
 as private office more like an apartment in some 
 luxurious club than a business man s work-place 
 Craig found a slender, handsome, middle-aged 
 man busily occupied with a paper pad held on his 
 knee. 
 
 "Craig, this is Mr. Armisted, of Armisted, 
 Leighton and Mills, you know," said Norton, "Mr. 
 Armisted, Mr. Craig, my private secretary." 
 
 The great architect bowed with considerable 
 deference at the sound of Philip s title. He had 
 come there in answer to Norton s telephone call 
 of the night before asking the firm to send "a 
 man" to consult on some new work. That he, the 
 head of the firm, had come in person was signifi 
 cant of the way the world had begun to regard 
 this John Norton. The merest hint at his patron 
 age was enough to arouse the interest of men who 
 were themselves princes in their special domains. 
 
 "Now Mr. Armisted," said he, "our matter can 
 quickly be disposed of. As I told you a moment 
 ago, I want a design for a children s hospital. It 
 will be erected somewhere on the Palisades. Part 
 ridge has undertaken to get me options on several 
 good sites, and you are the man of all others to 
 plan the building." 
 
 The architect smiled faintly at the compliment, 
 64
 
 INDULGING A WHIM 
 
 took off his glasses, breathed upon them and then 
 wiped them carefully with a silk handkerchief. He 
 wanted the commission, but professional honor 
 demanded that he appear calm. 
 
 "Precisely," he said at length. "And what er 
 style of architecture, if any, had you decided 
 upon, Mr. Norton?" 
 
 "I don t care, if only it is as unlike a hospital as 
 possible. Build it as if it were the country resi 
 dence of a rich man with a lot of children. But be 
 sure it s big enough." 
 
 "Ah, I catch your idea, I think, Mr. Norton; 
 something airy and homelike say in the Queen 
 Anne style." 
 
 "M-m-m," returned "John Peter" reflectively. 
 "What I d like to do would be to have a whole 
 row of farmhouses with vines all over the porches 
 and eaves. But there what do the poor children 
 of this big city know about farmhouses? They 
 would probably be terrified and homesick in them. 
 Besides, it s impracticable, I suppose. Use your 
 own judgment, Mr. Armisted, and send the plans 
 to Mr. Craig." 
 
 "And er the cost, Mr. Norton?" This was a 
 delicate hint that there would be a cost, but merely 
 insinuated as a sort of after-thought of no essential 
 importance. 
 
 "That is a question that cannot be settled until 
 we know how much room we shall require. Wait 
 a moment; perhaps we can get some light on the 
 subject." 
 
 He pressed one of the battery of buttons con 
 cealed under his desk, and presently a boy in the 
 Norton uniform stood in the doorway. 
 
 65
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Inquire if the Rev. Mr. Bentley is waiting," he 
 ordered. 
 
 "I sent for Mr. Bentley, gentlemen," explained 
 Norton, "because I ve been told that he is the 
 best informed man in the city on the needs and 
 conditions of the poor, and especially children." 
 
 "That is true," observed Craig. 
 
 "Do you know him?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. He was very kind to me as a boy." 
 
 "Good. You will work well together." 
 
 Against Philip s wonderment that he was en 
 listed in such a mission and given so high a rank, 
 came the stronger emotion of pleasure that he was 
 to be thrown into relations with the Rev. Mr. 
 Bentley. He had personal knowledge of the 
 goodness, the inspiring optimism, the never-failing 
 charity of the clergyman whose whole life was 
 spent in trying to create the millennium from what 
 seemed to others very unsatisfactory materials. 
 
 To Adoniram Bentley all things and all men and 
 women were constructively good. Evil and he 
 knew it well from a lifetime of practical missionary 
 work was to him only a certain undesirable for 
 eign quantity which interfered with the growth of 
 what he recognized as of value in the outcasts with 
 whom he was brought into contact. It was as a 
 chemical element that could be sent away harm 
 less into the atmosphere if only the right precipi 
 tation were made. 
 
 "If he had only had our chance," was his favor 
 ite phrase when speaking of some great sinner. 
 Had he met fallen Lucifer himself, he would un 
 questionably have attempted to show that the 
 cloven hoof, tail and horns did not completely con 
 ceal the underlying goodness of the prince of dark- 
 
 66
 
 INDULGING A WHIM 
 
 ness. If ever he mentioned the devil in his mission 
 room talks it must have been with an apology. His 
 great affection went out to mankind in its fullest 
 ilower when human souls were deepest in the mire 
 of disgrace and despair, for then he felt that their 
 need of someone s love was the greatest. Sleek, 
 contented churchmen called him "fool;" but for 
 this fool despairing, half-crazed women in bonds 
 had been known to pray to a God to whom appeal 
 had been unknown since the lisped prayer of baby 
 hood. 
 
 As the good clergyman entered John Norton s 
 office, presenting his physical attributes in neces 
 sary comparison to those of the three well-made 
 men who rose to receive him, he was another liv 
 ing example in the long line of those who arise to 
 demonstrate the fatuity of their parents. Could 
 the Bentleys of the former generation have fore 
 seen that their son would not attain even the five 
 feet four, of average womanhood, they would 
 scarcely have named him Adoniram "lord of 
 height." For the fact was that, with all the advan 
 tages of a tall hat and thick-soled shoes, the Rev. 
 Mr. Bentley could hardly rise to the five-foot 
 mark. 
 
 Nor could his face, by any of the canons of por 
 traiture, be considered handsome. With its broad 
 nose, its large, up-curved mouth and its wide, high 
 forehead, it had been likened by some to the coun 
 tenance of the cow. But those who said that did 
 not, or could not realize the beauty of the tender 
 gray eyes, a beatitude and a benison shining forth 
 from folds and rolls of inexpressive flesh. At the 
 recital of wrong or woe those wonderful eyes 
 might change expression with the progress of the 
 
 67
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 tale, but they never lost their gleam of compas 
 sion. There was a something in his gaze that few 
 could withstand. 
 
 Prison officials, calloused as they were and wont 
 to make merry over the seamy sides of life, recog 
 nized this strange influence. "Another striped 
 bird gone daffy over Parson Bentley s hypnotic 
 eye," they would say, and there was truth in the 
 quip. Men and women, cursing their Maker and 
 themselves, often became calm under his pitying 
 look; expecting censure, they found tenderness; 
 looking for the lash of a clerical whip, they re 
 ceived the balm of a minister to their wounds. 
 
 Such was the man at whom John Norton gazed 
 rather curiously and almost doubtingly for a mo 
 ment. Their glances met, and the financier s 
 uncertainty vanished in a moment. He greeted 
 the visitor pleasantly, and introduced him to the 
 architect. Craig and the clergyman shook hands 
 cordially. 
 
 "I want your assistance, Mr. Bentley," began 
 Norton, "in a matter of some importance to myself 
 and another. To be brief, we are going to build 
 a hospital for the children of the poor. I desire 
 your opinion, as an expert, as to the extent of the 
 need for such an institution." 
 
 "The need ? Enormous, and ever growing, Mr. 
 Norton. No one could estimate it without falling 
 far short of the reality." 
 
 "Could two hundred child patients be found?" 
 
 "I could give you the addresses of twice that 
 number from my own books." 
 
 "Worse than I imagined," said Norton. "Mr. 
 Armisted, it s pretty clear that we must be more 
 particular about room than about architecture. 
 
 68
 
 INDULGING A WHIM 
 
 Now, Mr. Bentley, if we should provide room for 
 a thousand children do you think we would over 
 shoot the mark?" 
 
 "Not at all, my dear sir," returned the little 
 clergyman, striving to quell the tide of excitement 
 that rose from his heart to his voice. He was stag 
 gered at the largeness of the plan, but filled with 
 delight at the prospect of a vital beneficence that 
 meant so much for the morale of the city. 
 
 "Well, then," continued "John Peter," in his 
 most matter-of-fact tone, "let it be for a thousand. 
 And Mr. Armisted will provide for additions as 
 they are required. I would be happy, Mr. Bentley, 
 if you would act as adviser in the construction of 
 the building and as investigator afterward. We 
 need such men as you. Mr. Craig, who supervises 
 the work, tells me that you are acquainted." 
 
 "We are, sir, and it was a very pleasant ac 
 quaintance." 
 
 "Now, gentlemen." continued Norton, inci 
 sively, "the work will begin at once. It only 
 remains for me to say that the hospital is, in a 
 certain sense, the suggestion of my daughter 
 Helen." 
 
 "Indeed! How considerate, how touching!" 
 murmured the architect, imbued with all the ap 
 preciation aroused by the assurance of a commis 
 sion on a very costly building. 
 
 Norton flashed a keen glance at the speaker and 
 then at Mr. Bentley. The clergyman said noth 
 ing, but his eyes were eloquent, as always. "The 
 name, I suppose, should be decided." 
 
 "I would suggest the Helen Norton Hospital, " 
 observed Armisted. 
 
 "I think not. . Two names I especially detest are 
 69
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 hospital and home. And my daughter wouldn t 
 care for any notoriety. In fact, Mr. Bentley, why 
 will you not stand sponsor for the whole affair? 
 Let it be understood that the retreat is the con 
 tribution of wealthy men. It would please me if 
 you would, and Bentley-on-Hudson strikes me as 
 a particularly good name." 
 
 "I shall be most happy to serve you," exclaimed 
 the clergyman, grasping Norton s hand warmly 
 and giving him a glance that affected the financier 
 strangely. "And now I will take my leave, if you 
 please, as I have many calls to make." 
 
 Armisted, also, prepared to go. 
 
 Do I understand you correctly, Mr. Norton? 
 You want plans for a building that will accommo 
 date a thousand patients as well as nurses and 
 physicians?" 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 "But have you reckoned the cost?" 
 
 "No ; that s your detail." 
 
 "It will be nearly two million dollars." 
 
 "Make it quite two millions, then. There s luck 
 in round numbers. Mr. Craig and you are ex 
 pected to see that it all goes into the building and 
 not into some contractor s pocket. Good day, sir." 
 
 Norton turned to his secretary with one of his 
 rare smiles. 
 
 "A good deal of money, perhaps you think, 
 Craig, for a girl s whim. And yet it may not be 
 all whim. . . . \Yhen I was a lad a brother, crip 
 pled by a fall from a hayrack, although my elder 
 by several years, was in my care until he died, a 
 victim to poverty and the ignorance of a country 
 surgeon. Such cases shall be less common, if I 
 can bring it about. . . . What is it, boy?" 
 
 70
 
 INDULGING A WHIM 
 
 "Mr. Andrew Haven asks if he can see you." 
 
 "Haven? Show him in at once. Wait a min 
 ute, Craig." 
 
 In less than half that time Haven shuffled in, 
 barely avoiding a fall over the Turkish rug at the 
 threshold. He was apologetically effusive, but his 
 chief cut him short without ceremony. 
 
 "Well, what result?" 
 
 "The Jamesons say that they will not sell at any 
 price." 
 
 Norton s left hand clenched in an instant, and 
 his eyes grew stern. 
 
 "They won t, eh? Did you use all the argu 
 ments I recommended?" 
 
 "Yes, but they pardon me, but they did they 
 said that they were perfectly able to conduct their 
 own business in their own way, and rather than 
 bury it in a syndicate, they would destroy it." 
 
 "We ll try and accommodate them." He 
 touched a button with a swift gesture. 
 
 "Ask Mr. Hastings to step here," he said to the 
 answering boy. Hastings was a sort of superior 
 clerk who enjoyed his employer s full confidence. 
 
 "Mr. Hastings, you were once in the hay, grain 
 and cement business, I believe," he said when the 
 clerk appeared. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Do you know this firm?" He handed a card 
 to the subordinate on which was written an 
 address. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Secure a building near them, fill it with the 
 best of everything the Jamesons carry, and under 
 sell them twenty-five per cent. Meet every drop 
 they make. Do you understand ?"
 
 CW SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Draw on the cashier for what money you want, 
 and keep your own counsel. If you break them 
 in a month, you get ten thousand dollars. For 
 every month s delay, you lose a thousand dollars 
 of the bonus. Your salary will go on as usual, but 
 don t let me see you until your work is done. 
 Good morning." 
 
 Craig went back to his office marveling at the 
 revelations of one brief hour. But in the light of 
 what he had seen he could only feel that there 
 must be some just cause for the crushing of the 
 Jamesons. 
 
 72
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THROWING DOWN THE GAUNTLET. 
 
 IT was not long before the newspapers of the day 
 were exciting themselves and their readers 
 with heavily displayed advance accounts of the 
 great dinner that was to be given a select coterie 
 of guests by John Peter Norton, in honor of the 
 victory of King Capital. It was agreed by all the 
 prophetic scribes that no such dinner had ever 
 been given as this was to be, and that probably 
 emulation would be stifled for a long time to come. 
 
 There was a fine air of mystery over the whole 
 thing that set the populace in a delightful state; 
 no paper pretended to be able to give the complete 
 details of the affair, and, consequently, all dis 
 agreed on most essential points. But they were 
 unanimous in saying that the great figures of the 
 metropolis and of the country were to be there, 
 and that expense was absolutely out of the con 
 sideration. Pictures of Norton, his family, King 
 Capital, "Doc" Bayles and "Muggsy" became as 
 familiar as the advertisements of the newest soap, 
 and long biographical articles of the "typical 
 American sportsman," plentifully bestrewn with 
 the flowers of fancy, filled the pages of the Sunday 
 journals. 
 
 The newspapers and Andrew Haven did not 
 agree in one very important particular. That in 
 dustrious henchman was careful to state in the 
 
 73
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 tentative invitations he was commissioned by Nor 
 ton to make, that the banquet was in honor of 
 Count Sandstrom. As an emissary of this sort he 
 was admirable; his family connections gave him 
 the traditional right of go-between for the great, 
 and his ingratiating, if superficial simplicity, 
 brought him more success than a more straightfor 
 ward man could possibly have attained. 
 
 Norton issued no formal invitations until thirty- 
 six men of unquestioned eminence had signified 
 their willingness to attend. It was no easy matter 
 to get some of these, even Haven found, for ac 
 ceptance would inevitably stamp Norton with 
 their public endorsement, but the wily agent had 
 one trump card in reserve when all else failed : the 
 occasion was to be in honor of that thorough 
 sportsman and best of losers, Count Sandstrom, 
 and Messrs. So-and-So and Whatd y caH im 
 naming the two most prominent thus far enlisted 
 were sure to be present. To refuse under such 
 conditions was certain to be construed as an 
 affront to the Count, and none cared to figure in 
 that light. 
 
 Haven appeared before his patron one morning 
 in a particularly felicitous mood. His list of thirty- 
 six had a little cross after every name. 
 
 "They ve all accepted, Norton," he chuckled. 
 "I had a note from Entwistle this morning. He 
 was hard to get pardon me, but he was the 
 hardest. Said he d consider the matter. I had to 
 use diplomacy. I saw Van Renssalaer Low and 
 rather hinted that Entwistle might not be invited. 
 I knew they were to meet that night at the Len 
 oxes ." 
 
 "And that Low would tell him that society was 
 74
 
 THROWING DOWN THE GAUNTLET 
 
 agog over the affair. Very clever, Andrew, very." 
 
 The little man beamed at this unqualified praise 
 from his chief. He had often been censured just 
 as heartily. 
 
 "Well, we ve got them all," said he, trium 
 phantly. 
 
 "Of course we have," returned Norton, "it was 
 the thirty-six that did it. Restrict the opportuni 
 ties for anything to a given numeral, not too large, 
 and you arouse rivalry ; when rivalry and curiosity 
 combine, there is no resisting it. As for the latter 
 element, the papers have done their work well." 
 
 "Thirty-six?" repeated Haven, thoughtfully. 
 "You said there were to be forty-two covers." 
 
 "You are coming, too, aren t you, Andrew? Or 
 must I use some special sort of argument with 
 youf" 
 
 "My my dear Norton, surely you " 
 
 "Very well, then, you accept. I thought you 
 would. There are consequently, you and I, Craig 
 and the guest." 
 
 "Forty," said Haven, counting on his fingers. 
 
 "The other two, eh? Wait and see. Perhaps 
 there ll be another vacant chair the noble guest 
 still remains to be invited." 
 
 Haven s cheery countenance was transformed at 
 a word. 
 
 "Yes, I know. I suppose I " 
 
 "No, Andrew, your troubles are over," said the 
 other with a grim smile. "See here." 
 
 He held up for Haven s inspection a handsomely 
 engraved card of invitation. Crossing a golden 
 horseshoe were the American and German flags 
 embossed in colors. The text was this : 
 
 75
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "You are respectfully invited to be 
 present at a dinner to be given on Tues 
 day evening, August fourteen, in mem 
 ory of the June meeting of the American 
 Handicap Association at Oceanic and 
 to meet " 
 
 There then followed the names of the thirty-six 
 selected men who were to give the banquet its 
 especial tone. Haven rapidly went over the list 
 with ever-increasing wonderment. 
 
 "But but, I don t see Count Sandstrom s 
 name," he almost gasped. 
 
 "Why should you," asked Norton, coolly, "that 
 is his invitation. Here s yours; you will not find 
 your name there." 
 
 "Why why, then, they are all different?" 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 "And you had thirty-six plates engraved?" 
 
 "You are an excellent logician, but a poor 
 mathematician, Haven. I had thirty-nine en 
 graved, as you will see on a moment s calculation." 
 
 "And you had them all made before you knew?" 
 
 "When I begin a thing I usually carry it 
 through successfully, Mr. Haven." 
 
 "And and Sandstrom ?" 
 
 "He will be there," replied the financier, with a 
 calm assurance that could not but satisfy Haven 
 on that score. Still there were things that per 
 plexed him. 
 
 "There there/ he repeated vacantly, "but 
 where? I see nothing on the invitation." 
 
 His patron handed him a smaller and plainer 
 card. "This will accompany each invitation," he 
 said. 
 
 76
 
 THROWING DOWN THE GAUNTLET 
 
 Haven read : "The guests will kindly assemble 
 at or before 7.30 p. m., in the private car Barba- 
 rossa at the South Central Station of the L. I. & 
 M. P. R. R." 
 
 "Ah, I see," exclaimed Haven with all the joy 
 of a great discovery, "at the shore ?" 
 
 "Your curiosity will lend zest to your appetite, 
 Andrew, so I believe I won t tell you." 
 
 "But Barbarossa ? Strange there should be a 
 car by that name." 
 
 "Haven, your density surprises me. There isn t, 
 but there will be. Ten days is a long time." 
 
 On the evening of the fourteenth the splendid 
 stable of John Norton near the Oceanic race 
 course was a scene of peculiar and very unique 
 activity. The great harness room had been 
 cleared, and, instead of a chief trainer, the famous 
 chef of the most celebrated restaurant in New 
 York was in command. Under him was an army 
 of cooks, servers and waiters, and his keen eye 
 took in every detail of the complete culinary out 
 fit that had come down in a car that morning. It 
 had been said that no banquet could be served 
 successfully outside the city, and "Christoforo" 
 was here to give the lie to the assertion. He had 
 been told by Norton to make the effort of his life, 
 and the promise of a thousand-dollar special fee 
 if he outdid his own celebrated self had a potent 
 effect. 
 
 Clever decorators had transformed the stable 
 loft into a place of exquisite beauty and brilliancy. 
 The German and the American colors, in silk, 
 covered the walls in festoons, caught up, here and 
 
 77
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 there, by great golden horseshoes, while the double 
 eagles of the Kaiser and the great seal of the 
 United States glowed in colored lights at either 
 end. Strange prismatic effects flashed from the 
 ceiling like an incrustation of diamonds, while the 
 table was a mass of rare flowers, costly crystal and 
 burnished plate. Even the guests, hardened as 
 they were to the magnificence of special dining, 
 were aroused from their usual nonchalance as they 
 entered the room. 
 
 It was a company that filled Andrew Haven 
 with a glee that was almost visible. In its repre 
 sentation of the most powerful elements of New 
 York life it exceeded anything within his remem 
 brance, and he had gotten it together! If "John 
 Peter" was elated, none could have suspected it 
 under his mask of calm courtesy and complete 
 self-possession. He knew that to betray the slight 
 est gratification would be as disastrous as to the 
 card player who holds a phenomenally brilliant 
 hand. 
 
 The mayor of the city was a guest, as a matter 
 of course, as well as the senior senator and the 
 most famous congressman of the state. Norton 
 wanted them to lend official status to the feast. 
 But far above mere politicians he held the great 
 princes of finance and industry, and they were all 
 at hand. Had an earthquake suddenly swallowed 
 the stables, he thought with satisfaction, the entire 
 world would see a panic the like of which had 
 never occurred since the days of Noah. 
 
 He saw at his board Van Renssalaer Cruger 
 Low, far prouder of his descent than of his mil 
 lions; Stuyvesant Lord, a railroad king whose 
 boast it was that with a few strokes of his pen he 
 
 78
 
 THROWING DOWN THE GAUNTLET 
 
 could command the commerce of the country to 
 stand still a modern Joshua with a round, bullet 
 head almost destitute of hair and an affectation of 
 illiterate speech ; Belmont Drexel, a great banker 
 with branch houses in every part of the globe; 
 Herbert Fish Wilson, the owner of a hundred im 
 mense retail stores in as many large cities ; Biddle 
 Jaffrey, whose private flag flew over two-thirds of 
 the shipping of the country; Ward Neilson, the 
 inventor and sole owner of the new light discs 
 that had brought him many millions a youngish, 
 handsome, athletic man who had bested in a pri 
 vate bout the greatest pugilist of the day ; Gibson 
 Davies, keeper of the granaries of the west ; Louis 
 Rhinelander, head of the Allied Metal Trade ; 
 Evarts Choate Cleveland, the most brilliant of cor 
 poration lawyers; the others were of equal rank 
 in their especial spheres. Only the arts and letters 
 were unrepresented. 
 
 At the close of the banquet proper, a mar- 
 velously effective combination of German and 
 American dishes, John Norton rose from his place 
 at the head of the table. Someone, perhaps 
 Haven, had called for a speech and it was forth 
 coming as clearly foreordained as any decree of 
 the fates. 
 
 Gentlemen," began the host, " you have called 
 for a word from the winner of the Handicap. He 
 is in his stall with a double portion of oats in honor 
 of the occasion, and is doubtless by this time more 
 speechless than usual. If I must speak for him, I 
 must say first what he certainly would say were he 
 given the opportunity: that is that to the gallant 
 Barbarossa and his noble owner, to conquer whom 
 
 79
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 it was an honor and a privilege, he extends a heart 
 felt greeting." 
 
 "Good!" shouted half a dozen men, "very 
 neat so do we." , 
 
 "And now, gentlemen," continued the speaker, 
 "I offer this toast to be drunk standing: long life 
 and happiness and every victory save one to 
 our distinguished guest, Count Sandstrom, of Ger 
 many." 
 
 With a shout of approval the guests rose to 
 their feet and drank to the smiling nobleman 
 Norton in water, as usual. After a few more 
 happy phrases, the speaker, suddenly throwing an 
 impressive gravity into his voice, made the most 
 careless of his hearers straighten into attention. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said he, "this is a gathering of 
 representative men. We are alone. Nothing that 
 is said here to-night can be given to the outside 
 world save through us. It is on my mind to speak 
 frankly to you, if I may." 
 
 "Of course you may Go ahead, Norton Let s 
 hear it," were the cries around the table. 
 
 "I thank you. I realize that the idea of this 
 gathering, with me at the head of the table, would 
 have been laughed at as an impossibility not long 
 ago. Yet we are here, which is one more proof 
 that the impossible is always possible in certain 
 contingencies. I realize, too, that this assembly 
 of representative men of this and another nation" 
 and he bowed gravely to Count Sandstrom, 
 seated at his right "has further significance than 
 its social side, and I thank you for the confidence 
 it assures." 
 
 At this clear declaration of Norton s motive, the 
 more conservative of his guests, mellow though 
 
 80
 
 THROWING DOWN THE GAUNTLET 
 
 they were with perfect food and the choicest of 
 vintages, looked at one another in a sort of vague 
 alarm. This then, was the construction that would 
 be placed by all the world on their wining and din 
 ing with John Norton. But the trap had been 
 sprung and there was no withdrawal. Craig, who 
 had been a rather silent member of the party, felt 
 a new admiration for the courage and coolness of 
 his chief; he waited with intense interest to see 
 what would come next from this extraordinary 
 man. 
 
 "Nine years ago," resumed Norton, "I came to 
 this city a stranger. Perhaps even now you do not 
 know as much of me as you should. Thirty-one 
 years ago this month I told the farmer for whom I 
 worked as a sort of superintendent that I should 
 leave his employ after the harvest. He was aston 
 ished, asked what was wrong and offered me an in 
 creased salary. I thanked him, but said my 
 determination was strong to cut out a furrow for 
 myself. 
 
 "The next winter I spent in the study of modern 
 agriculture and in prospecting. In the early 
 spring I put some of the few hundreds I had left in 
 a tract immense, you would call it, but small out 
 there of arid land near the foot of a small chain of 
 hills mountains they would be termed in the 
 east. The land was cheap because no one wanted 
 it. I bonded more land for several miles on three 
 sides of my territory. Those who were interested 
 enough to pay any attention to what I was doing 
 said I was crazy or a fool. Perhaps I was. While 
 hunting in those hills two or three years pre 
 viously, however, I had found several streams 
 dashing down their sides whose steady flow the 
 
 81
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 severest season of drought did not affect. The 
 problem was to divert that water to my land. 
 
 "I thought of piping the water, but material was 
 expensive and I had little money. What I did was 
 to construct troughs of boards and run them over 
 my fields. They were clumsy contrivances, and 
 the people of the farms on the other side of the hills 
 laughed at me. But the water was all that was 
 needed. For centuries this land had been storing 
 up fertilizing substances which needed only the 
 magic touch of moisture to spring into enormous 
 activity. On those arid acres I raised enough corn 
 and grain in two years to pay every obligation, 
 buy all my bonded land and hire a force of men to 
 whom I gave employment all the year round. I 
 bought and bought land till my acreage was far 
 up in the hundreds of thousands. 
 
 "Then my rivals began to take notice of me. In 
 the third year an attempt was made to destroy my 
 work. One night I stood at the gates of my head 
 reservoir with two or three faithful fellows and 
 beat back a crowd of forty armed men. They in 
 voked the law, but I beat them again. They tried 
 to crush me commercially; I did crush them. I 
 undersold them in the open market, and still made 
 money. They fought hard, and when their means 
 gave out, resorted to mortgages. It was my 
 agents who lent them the money. I didn t fore 
 close, for the loss of their property would have 
 been as nothing compared with the thought that 
 they were dependent on my mercy." 
 
 By this time every eye was intently fixed on the 
 massive, determined face of the man who made so 
 little of acknowledging his own vindictiveness, 
 who, in his quiet, self-contained way, boasted of 
 
 82
 
 THROWING DOWN THE GAUNTLET 
 
 his own power. Such a speech at such a time not 
 one of the assemblage had ever heard before. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," went on the emotionless 
 voice, "my farming days have long been over. 
 From the field to the produce market was an easy 
 step, and thence to stocks and bonds. You know 
 my recent history \vell enough. I relate my early 
 experiences from no desire for self-glorification, 
 but simply to illustrate what I wish to impress 
 upon you : that I do not undertake a venture in 
 which I do not thoroughly believe, and that, when 
 begun, the work is completed, cost what it may. 
 Some of you are already allied with me ; it is right 
 that they should know my principles. Some of 
 you may be my antagonists ; I am willing that they 
 should know me as I am. I believe that a great 
 business enterprise successfully completed is a 
 blessing to the world, and that if a thing is worth 
 doing, it is worth a fight. Whether you stand 
 shoulder to shoulder or face to face with me, you 
 will find that I act as I speak. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I again propose the toast of our 
 guest, Count Sandstrom." 
 
 The effect of this dramatically abrupt transition 
 from Norton s bold statement of his methods and 
 purposes to the complimentary mention of Count 
 Sandstrom was strong with the guests. It was as 
 if this rugged product of the western mountains 
 and deserts had thrown the gauntlet in behalf of 
 himself and America at the feet of the scion of 
 centuries of European wealth. 
 
 If anything of the sort occurred to Count Sand 
 strom, he gave no sign. His answering speech 
 was brief, courtly and gracious. He thanked 
 America for its kindness, and hinted that he might 
 
 83
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 some day return to contest the great prize that he 
 had so nearly won. He even referred to his host s 
 entertaining story of his early struggles with a skil 
 fully flattering phrase or two, declaring that the 
 possessor of inherited wealth was indebted to the 
 self-made man for an impressive lesson in manhood. 
 He closed with a happily expressed wish for a con 
 tinuation of the cordial relations between Ger 
 many and the United States. 
 
 There were little speeches by several of the other 
 guests, cautious, courteous and meaningless. 
 Then there walked into the room, at a precon 
 certed signal, two odd and rather uncomfortable 
 figures. They were the thin "Doc" Bayles and his 
 offspring "Muggsy." As they dropped sheepishly 
 into the two vacant chairs, a hearty round of ap 
 plause was their portion, which they acknowl 
 edged by appreciative grins. Withal, there was a 
 look of importance on their faces, as if they were 
 the custodians of some tremendous secret. 
 
 Now the orchestra struck up "Hail to the Chief" 
 and every light in the great room was suddenly 
 extinguished. Then slowly the wall of the upper 
 end slid back and there before the astonished eyes 
 of the banqueters was revealed the figure of "King 
 Capital" set in a massive golden frame and bril 
 liantly lighted by cunningly concealed bulbs. So 
 motionless was the beautiful animal that most of 
 the spectators believed the picture a painted one, 
 until "Muggsy" approached, when the horse whin 
 nied his recognition. 
 
 The newspapers next morning gave much space 
 and black type to the dinner, nor did they lose a 
 
 84
 
 THROWING DOWN THE GAUNTLET 
 
 single detail of the significance of Norton s speech 
 and the attendance of the great figures of the city. 
 Some of these same great figures were mystified 
 as to the origin of such unusual journalistic accu 
 racy. They did not take into account, however, 
 the industry and acumen of Mr. Andrew Haven.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ON THE PALISADES. 
 
 ON a beautiful afternoon in early October a 
 little party went to the Palisades of the 
 Hudson on a pilgrimage that was to help 
 bring a bit of the millennium to suffering little 
 children. It was an oddly assorted group : Philip 
 Craig, earnest, considerate, firm in his belief in the 
 ultimate happiness of the world: Armisted, the 
 architect, upright and downright in his rather in 
 sinuating way and something of a pessimist as to 
 the motives of men ; Rev. Mr. Bentley, the friend 
 of sinners, the tenderly tolerant and gentle; Mrs. 
 Norton, strong under her placid demeanor, and 
 Helen, buoyant with the light-hearted joy of 
 youth, easily turned from sunshine to shower and 
 back to sunshine again. 
 
 Now as they stood on the splendid height, far 
 above the broad band of blue that rippled under 
 the mellow sun and flashed with its myriad com 
 merce, the delight of life was strong within the 
 girl, and Craig, too, caught the infection and was 
 filled with a strange desire to laugh his gladness 
 into the bracing air. Before them gleamed the 
 towers of the teeming city; behind, all the riotous 
 tints of autumn on tree and bush and turf. Here 
 was to be built "Bentley-on-Hudson" upon land 
 that Partridge, the real estate king, had finally 
 succeeded in securing for the hospital; here were 
 
 86
 
 ON THE PALISADES 
 
 to centre all the plans of Helen Norton, in whose 
 company Craig had been thrown by the force of 
 circumstance. If he wished that the building be 
 slow, it was not that he was indifferent to the 
 needs of the poor, but rather that the good red 
 blood in his veins answered to the nearness of a 
 beautiful and enthusiastic young girl and would 
 not rest until its call had been satisfied. 
 
 "It is a lovely spot," said Mrs. Norton, as she 
 scanned the horizon from north to south. "How 
 the poor little things will enjoy it, will they not, 
 Mr. Bentley?" 
 
 "Enjoy it, my dear lady, they will positively 
 think they are in heaven when the pain will let 
 them," he added, sadly. "But we shall banish pain 
 some clay, perhaps, and then " 
 
 "Then, Mr. Bentley," broke in Armisted, "half 
 the joy of your life will have vanished because 
 your occupation will be half gone. And the poor 
 then ---M^es will lose all sense of gratitude; what 
 an unsatisfactory state of things that would be." 
 
 "But there will still be sorrow and sin," said the 
 little clergyman gently. "My work will remain 
 with me till I die ; it s the wisest dispensation." 
 
 "Well, every man to his taste, I suppose," re 
 turned the architect, pulling out his sketchbook 
 and dropping to his knees on the ground, as he 
 ran his eye along the surface in every direction. 
 "Just at present, however, we must fix our ener 
 gies on the forthcoming hospital. First of all I 
 want to find an old man who lives near here. T 
 have been told that he was a quarryman in his 
 young days when it was proposed to cut down 
 these palisades and when that gross indignity to 
 nature s face was prevented by the people. I want 
 
 8?
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 his opinion as to the character of the ground for 
 the excavation." 
 
 "I will go, too, I believe," said Mrs. Norton. "I 
 am a bit tired and I ll rest while you are talking." 
 
 "And I, too," observed Mr. Bentley. "I am not 
 tired, but I would like to see your old quarry- 
 man." The good man would not confess that he 
 went with the thought that there might be some 
 form of trouble in the quarryman s house that he 
 could relieve. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Craig," exclaimed Helen, as she sat 
 down on the soft yellow grass, "we are all alone 
 in the world or rather out of the world ; there is 
 the actual world, that immense city over there. 
 At least, my father says so." 
 
 "A hard and relentless thing the world would be 
 if that were all of it, Miss Norton. Your father 
 meant it as a figure of speech." 
 
 "A speech of figures, you mean," returned the 
 girl with a laugh. "It s money, money, money, 
 over there. Why don t they pave the sidewalks 
 with gold, and be done with it? Ah, how much 
 better this" and she turned and pointed to the 
 glowing gifts of autumn at their backs. High up 
 on a rock maple was a shaft of crimson that caught 
 her eye at once. 
 
 "What exquisite leaves ! Cannot we get them ? 
 Let s go and see." 
 
 She pouted when they found the flaming branch 
 much too high for them to grasp. 
 
 "Why are the beautiful things always out of 
 reach in nature, I mean? Of course my father s 
 money but this is different. You don t know, 
 you inconsiderate maple, that I m the daughter of 
 
 88
 
 ON THE PALISADES 
 
 the rich John Peter Norton." And she shook her 
 fist in mock indignation at the offending tree. 
 
 "We ll have that branch, Miss Norton," said 
 Craig, gaily. "I haven t much money, but I can 
 climb." 
 
 Up the trunk Craig swarmed in the best style 
 of his school days. A brief tug at the coveted 
 branch, and the deed was done; yet not all done, 
 for on the way down the young man s coat was 
 caught by a stout twig and torn royally. He 
 dropped to the ground and ruefully examined the 
 rent. 
 
 Helen laughed at his serious face, and, so well 
 attuned were their two natures that day, he 
 laughed in unison. Then the girl deftly entwined 
 a little chaplet of the brilliant leaves, and made him 
 stoop while she placed it on his head. 
 
 The reward of valor, sir," she exclaimed. "He 
 who tears his coat for his lady s favor is a brave 
 man, indeed. Rise, Sir Philip, and no, no, I 
 didn t say you might kiss my hand." 
 
 "But that is the invariable custom when one is 
 knighted," returned the young man, in no wise 
 abashed. The wine of October is a seductive 
 potion, and Philip Craig was drinking deep with 
 each indrawn breath. He did not analyze his emo 
 tions, nor would he have cared to ; sufficient for his 
 own gladness were the sky and color and the near 
 ness of a naive and very delightful girl. 
 
 "Oh, well, if that s part of the ceremony, never 
 mind," she replied merrily. "We may as well have 
 our sport now, for when October comes again how 
 different it will be just here : a great building filled 
 with poor little things with withered legs and 
 crooked backs and aching wounds. I can see the 
 
 89
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 long rows of tiny white cots and the pretty nurses. 
 And, oh, the smell of medicines, and the operating 
 room with its dreadful knives! The dear babies. 
 But it s all to cure and help them, isn t it? So the 
 picture is pleasant, after all." 
 
 Her old vivacity was quick to return as they 
 went back toward the road. She was like a fawn 
 to which bodily repose is impossible for long. 
 
 "I dare you to race to the road," she exclaimed, 
 suddenly. "Come on!" 
 
 Then there was a wild and laughing dash, into 
 which Craig entered with so much abandon that 
 he forgot the usual rules of gallantry and actually 
 beat his pretty rival by a yard. But she, having 
 reached the fence, vaulted lightly over. 
 
 "I win/ she cried, her golden hair flying about 
 her face in dainty confusion. "The goal was this 
 side the fence, sir." 
 
 Craig s rising protest against this bit of feminine 
 sharp practice was stilled by the sight of a rap 
 idly approaching road wagon drawn by a hand 
 some cob. The driver was a large, florid, over 
 dressed woman whose most salient points seemed 
 to be a black, befeathered hat of enormous propor 
 tions, a pair of beady black eyes and earrings of 
 very large and aggressive diamonds. She stopped 
 opposite the two young people with such sudden 
 ness as to drag her steed back upon his hind legs. 
 
 "Ah," she exclaimed in the loud and metallic 
 voice one would expect from such an ensemble, 
 "it is you, Philip. I thought I couldn t be mis 
 taken in a face, although I haven t seen you since 
 you were a boy. You don t remember me, I sup 
 pose." 
 
 Craig struggled politely to reproduce the 
 90
 
 ON THE PALISADES 
 
 woman s face in the chambers of his mind, but 
 failed, and admitted it. 
 
 "Well, I ve held you in my arms many, many 
 times when he was a baby, miss. If you ve for 
 gotten me, Philip, I don t believe you ve forgotten 
 Geoffrey, my husband." 
 
 "Mrs. Fairbrother?" 
 
 Craig s voice had a touch of surprise that was 
 quite involuntary. This loud, too gorgeous crea 
 ture the wife, of the simple-minded plain old fellow 
 who was the friend of his Puritanical father? It 
 seemed an anomaly too great for belief. How 
 ever, she had said it, and he accepted the situation. 
 
 "My husband," said Mrs. Fairbrother, with a 
 note of contempt in her voice, "wastes more time 
 than ever at Angus Craig s house talking a lot of 
 rot about how men make money. If he saved his 
 breath and put it into work, he d have less reason 
 to prate about the inequality that money makes. 
 If I talked and talked, and never did anything, I d 
 be as poor as he, but, thanks to my common sense, 
 I know how to pick up a dollar here and there. 
 The capitalists, like old Dives, don t gobble all the 
 crumbs, and if Lazarus is sharp, he can get a good 
 many of em." 
 
 Rumor credited this rather remarkable woman 
 with collecting a great many of the crumbs and 
 even very much larger pieces of the banquet of 
 wealth. She was a shrewd speculator of the most 
 catholic sort; nothing that held forth the promise 
 of quick profit was foreign to her. Whether it was 
 a ship, a milk route, a parcel of land, a block of 
 stock or an abandoned church made no difference 
 to her so long as there was advantage in the buy 
 ing and selling. She and the nimble dollar danced 
 
 91
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 merrily together, each tireless in the performance 
 of the combined duty and pleasure. She was a liv 
 ing contradiction of the assumption that the clever 
 are usually silent, for she had all the volubility of 
 her more artless husband. Fluency never fails the 
 speech of those whose chief topic of conversation 
 is themselves, and Mrs. Fairbrother launched 
 forth into a wordy account of what she had done 
 that day, from her uprising until the present 
 moment. 
 
 Craig was embarrassed, Helen half amused, by 
 this torrent of self-revelation. He tried to end it 
 by various conversational devices, but it was like 
 trying to stem a mountain stream with a dam of 
 bark. On it swept in full flow of intimate ex 
 posure. 
 
 "I .came up here to buy some lots of land as an 
 investment," said Mrs. Fairbrother, very loudly. 
 "I had looked em over a year ago, but like a fool 
 I thought they were too high and didn t take em 
 felt sure they d go lower, you know. Now I 
 find that a grasping moneybags named Morton or 
 Norton or something of that sort has bought up 
 the whole territory, it would seem. Not a smell 
 left for an honest woman who wants to make an 
 honest penny. It s enough to make one sick." 
 
 Craig imagined that Helen had flushed ever so 
 slightly at this aspersion of her father and the hos 
 pital scheme. She had found a bit of grass by 
 the roadside, and, true to her instincts, was making- 
 friends with the cob, which whinnied his apprecia 
 tion and allowed her to kiss his velvety muzzle, 
 although in general a rather ill-natured beast. 
 Craig wondered if she had caught the woman s 
 
 92
 
 ON THE PALISADES 
 
 remarks, and what she would do if they became 
 more offensive, as they very likely might. 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Fairbrother," said he, pleasantly, 
 "the world is large, and I take it there are plenty 
 of other opportunities to buy and sell land. They 
 tell me that out Montauk Point way " 
 
 "Montauk Point? Bah! A cold-blast desert. 
 But here oh, if I could only get at him!" she 
 almost screamed, returning to the charge with 
 more vigor than before. "I d just give him a piece 
 of my mind. To come along and buy up property 
 with his millions from beneath the very noses of 
 other people who have just as much right to it as 
 he has, and just when I had a chance to clear a 
 cool couple of thousand by selling the land again ! 
 But this Morton or Norton, or whatever his name 
 is, has to step in and cheat me out of my profit. 
 The impudent moneybags!" 
 
 Her anger rose higher and higher at the recital 
 of her woes, undoubtedly embittered by the 
 thought that her own lack of foresight had been 
 her undoing, and she gave her horse a vicious cut 
 that made him spring forward in mute indignation. 
 With a nod to Craig she dashed off down the road 
 in a great cloud of dust. 
 
 Helen turned toward the young man with 
 amusement and wrath contending for expression 
 on her face. But her good sense conquered. 
 
 "Rather a decisive person, your friend; eh, Mr. 
 Craig?" 
 
 "Spare me, Miss Norton. She s no friend of 
 mine, I ll swear. Simply because her husband- 
 may the fates preserve him is a crony of my 
 father s gives her no credentials from me. But 
 wasn t she immense?" 
 
 93
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 They both laughed heartily at the recollection 
 of the outraged feelings of the big-voiced woman, 
 and the incident was closed. Then the witchery of 
 the sky and air resumed its sway, and they chatted 
 gaily of the many trifles that youth finds in plenty 
 to talk about. To Craig, at least, this experience 
 was absolutely new, and he gave himself up to its 
 delicious mastery as a novitiate to a seductive 
 drug. Now and then some waking self-conscious 
 ness would ask him if this was really Philip Craig, 
 the sober, hard-working man of business, who was 
 talking to a young girl as if there were nothing in 
 the world but the flame and spice of October. 
 Helen was her own exuberant self, he felt sure, 
 but he? He pursued his self analysis no further, 
 but let himself float on the pleasant tide of destiny. 
 He had inherited something of his father s belief in 
 foreordination, and when fate and inclination go 
 hand in hand, the rest is easy. 
 
 At last the appearance of Mrs. Norton and the 
 others warned Craig that this bright day was 
 about to end. The mother looked keenly at her 
 daughter s radiant face and at the no less joyous 
 countenance of Philip. If she read anything there, 
 she kept her counsel for a long time afterwards. 
 
 They were a merry party as they dashed down 
 the river in the swift Norton launch, stopping only 
 to land Armisted and Rev. Mr. Bentley at their 
 destinations. The hospital plans took more defi 
 nite shape during this ride than ever before, and 
 Helen went home happy in the anticipation of tell 
 ing her father what a grand success the new insti 
 tution was bound to be. 
 
 But Craig, as he lay awake at night much longer 
 than was usual to his well-regulated life, found that 
 
 94
 
 ON THE PALISADES 
 
 the thoughts of the hospital were crowded into 
 oblivion by the visions of tender, blue eyes, sunny 
 hair, a rippling laugh and all the attributes of 
 charming femininity which had hitherto been to 
 him as a sealed book. Just before sleep conquered 
 him he drowsily told himself what a lucky fellow 
 he was to be chosen to work in co-operation with 
 a girl whose name was Helen. 
 
 95
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A MAN AND HIS CASTLE. 
 
 VERY early in his career as John Peter Nor 
 ton s private secretary, Philip Craig decided 
 that his title and his duties were paradoxical. 
 Indeed, the clerical and technical work as assistant 
 to the magnate was almost entirely handed over to 
 a middle aged stenographer of methodical ways 
 and reliable discretion. Craig himself was Nor 
 ton s confidential agent in a great variety of affairs 
 that sent him out into the world and brought him 
 in touch with men whose mere acquaintance was 
 of extraordinary value. He was the avant courier 
 of every new scheme of the millionaire, and he 
 confessed to himself, in his occasional midnight 
 introspections, that he liked this latest turn of 
 fortune s wheel. Nor was there for him any of 
 that deprecatory feeling common to mankind 
 when a life work is a thing of delight; he would 
 have scorned any assumption that he was getting 
 more than his deserts, for he knew that "John 
 Peter" was one who never tolerated the slightest 
 sentiment in business matters. He paid for no 
 more than he received, and Craig was certainly 
 very useful. His clear head and unemotional mind 
 made him a most admirable investigator for his 
 busy chief. 
 
 "Examine into this thing, Philip," Norton said 
 one day during the first summer, when Francois 
 
 96
 
 A MAN AND HIS CASTLE 
 
 Deschapelles, an inventor with an almost unintelli 
 gibly rapid speech, had spent a fruitless hour in the 
 capitalist s office over drawings and a working 
 model which he carried in what appeared to be a 
 cross between a safe and a Gladstone bag. "If it 
 is what he says it is, it will tear a big hole in pres 
 ent commercial methods. You ve got a good head 
 for getting at the bottom of things. If you recom 
 mend it, I ll go into the thing with Deschapelles." 
 
 Craig went over to a little cove on the New 
 Jersey coast that had been entirely surrounded by 
 a high wooden fence. There he saw a practical 
 craft, in miniature, whose evolutions amazed and 
 delighted him. Through his urgent advice Nor 
 ton obtained control of the patent. 
 
 The supervision of such things as this, together 
 with the hospital work, kept the young man pretty 
 actively engaged, and yet he found that he had 
 more spare time than had ever before fallen to him? 
 When winter came he devoted this leisure to the 
 improvement of the aesthetic side of his nature. 
 He was not long in discovering his deficiencies in 
 the fine arts, music and the drama; it dawned upon 
 him that the knowledge of the printed page can 
 never make the rounded man. Sunshine must 
 come to grain or fruit or flower as well as the 
 soberer earth and rain, and intellectual warmth 
 was what he had always lacked. 
 
 Sometimes his actual ignorance of the more 
 delicate sides of education was a source of great 
 embarrassment to him, as once when he casually 
 remarked to Helen Norton that he had not seen 
 the great actor, Farrell. 
 
 "Not seen Farrell?" she exclaimed. "Why, I 
 thought everybody had seen him." 
 
 97
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 It had pained him to feel outside the pale even 
 of this rather unsophisticated girl s experience, and 
 his face revealed the fact. 
 
 "Pardon me," she said quickly. "I had for 
 gotten that father told us you have been a hard 
 student, and have had no opportunity for such 
 frivolities." 
 
 But "frivolities" or not, he found himself, some 
 what to his own surprise, in a stall that very night 
 at the State Theatre, one of the three in the 
 metropolis subsidized by the government. After 
 that he was a frequent visitor to the best play 
 houses, a Shakespearian cycle at the Comus par 
 ticularly attracting him, with its bi-weekly presen 
 tation of some great comedy or tragedy. 
 
 For music, too, he developed an unexpected 
 taste and liking. Nor was he, as one might have 
 thought, an adherent of the somewhat antiquated 
 and quiet methods of \Yagner, Tschaikowsky and 
 Richard Strauss. On the contrary, he accepted at 
 once the new tonality," as it was called, and what 
 some of the gentlemen of the ancient regime were 
 pleased to term "barbaric and brutal noise," was 
 to him a delight to the ear and the senses. He 
 read much in musical history and was amused and 
 surprised to find almost the exact words applied 
 to Beethoven, Berlioz, Schuman and Wagner by 
 the classicists of their day. He found that all new 
 art is "caviar to the general" and that the hooted 
 of to-day is the adored of to-morrow. 
 
 One Sunday night in February when he had 
 planned to go to the first performance of a new 
 religious opera, the hunting up of the text in the 
 little Bible of his boyhood suddenly brought be 
 fore him the face of his father, and he thought with 
 
 98
 
 A MAN AND HIS CASTLE 
 
 a pang of self-reproach how little he had seen of 
 him during the winter. Although never made to 
 feel very welcome in the cottage, he determined 
 to-night to forego the music and try, at least, to 
 enact the part of a dutiful son. 
 
 It was bitter weather as he came out of the great 
 apartment house where he lived. A howling wind 
 tore around the gulfs between the tall buildings, 
 dashing a needle-like sleet in the faces of those who 
 ventured to battle with the blast. The pavements 
 and streets themselves were, of course, clear, 
 thanks to the great network of steam-pipes that lay 
 near the whole surface of the city; further out, 
 however, Philip met a thick, wet covering of snow 
 as he stepped from his car, and he slipped and 
 stumbled as he went, quite unused to this sort of 
 walking. 
 
 As he approached his father s house he was 
 surprised to see that many of the gaunt buildings 
 around it had either been razed or were in process 
 of destruction. The desolation of the scene was 
 complete. Not a human being beside himself was 
 stirring on the deserted street; the tiny cottage, 
 standing there in the midst of the ruin, buffeted by 
 the storm and ghostly white with snow, only 
 accentuated the dreariness of the picture. Philip s 
 throat tightened as he thought of the saddened 
 man who dwelt in that region and in that house all 
 alone. He noticed that the only light in the cot 
 tage was a feeble gleam, now and then effaced by 
 the fierce waves of snow, in the second story. He 
 feared his father might be ill. 
 
 SilentH he made his way upstairs and to the now 
 well-remembered room that had been his mother s. 
 The sound of Angus voice, like the monotone of 
 
 99
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 a litany, hushed the greeting that rose to his lips. 
 What he saw made him shudder, despite his good 
 blood and nerves. 
 
 By the dim light of a candle, the old man was 
 talking to something in the chair that had been 
 the favorite of his dead wife. To that and to other 
 articles associated with her he was pourine forth 
 a pitiful plaint about his broken home and the 
 threat to tear it from its foundation stones. 
 
 "An they say we must go out into the warrld, 
 you an me, an again seek a bidin place. Oh, the 
 cruelty of the reech, the flinty hearts that wad 
 drive us aboot from hearth-stane to hearth-stane 
 till we dee. We ll gang, if so be tis written, my 
 ain dear heart, but till then we ll fight; aye, fight 
 fight !" 
 
 His voice rose into a wild scream of defiance, 
 from which the shrill yell of the wind was scarcely 
 to be distinguished. Philip could stand no more. 
 
 "Father," he called very gently. His voice had 
 a tenderness born of sudden remorse and pity; it 
 was like the voice of a woman. 
 
 "Eh, what?" said Angus, casting his glance 
 about with a sudden exaltation. The light of a 
 great joy shone on his thin face. "Eh?" 
 
 "Father," said Philip once more, louder, but as 
 full of kindness. This time he was heard distinctly. 
 
 "Ah. . . . It s you yersel , Mary, come back to 
 the lonely mon in his darrk hour. Father! 
 That s what ye used tae ca me after bairnie Philip 
 cam tae us. Ye pity me to-night, dearie, I ken, an 
 so ye speak tae gi me strength tae bear the burden 
 we a must tak up, some time. Aye, lass, we ll 
 bear them thegither, now that ye have come tae 
 Angus. God bless ye for t, God bless ye." 
 
 100
 
 A MAN AND HIS CASTLE 
 
 Tears streamed down his seamed cheeks as he 
 fell on his knees before the chair and grasped its 
 inanimate arms with his trembling hands. Philip 
 could not find it in his heart to interrupt such a 
 communing with the spirit of the dead past; he 
 felt that it would be like the profanation of a 
 prayer, and he went quietly down the stairs and 
 out into the furious night, where he halted like a 
 sentinel before the cottage, that he might know by 
 the light when his father should come down. As 
 he stood there a defect in his own nature was sud 
 denly revealed to him. Might he not, like Angus, 
 be possessed of a surface coldness that belied the 
 warm depths within ? Had he not been unappre- 
 ciative of that very father s benefits toward him? 
 After all, it was the curt command, "Shift for 
 yersel " that was the foundation stone of his pres 
 ent fair fabric in life. A new affection arose for the 
 lonely man he had just seen laying bare the inmost 
 recesses of a loving soul. He would make amends, 
 he thought, not only hereafter, but now, in this 
 stormy night so aptly typifying the surges of 
 emotion within that tiny dwelling. 
 
 After a little he saw the flicker of light fade away 
 from the front windows, and he knew that his 
 father was coming down stairs. He went inside to 
 the sitting room, and was there when the older 
 man appeared. 
 
 A great and inevitable reaction from his tender 
 exaltation had set in for Angus. He even felt 
 ashamed of his passionate outburst, and he was 
 pettishly suspicious of the son s presence in the 
 house, and resented it as an intrusion. 
 
 "How long hae ye been in this room?" he 
 asked, sharply. 
 
 101
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "I just came in, as you see," said Philip, pointing 
 to the snow on his shoulders. 
 
 "Weel, ye don t come so muckle often that ye 
 need come oot such a nicht as this." 
 
 An inauspicious beginning, surely, for the inter 
 change of olive branches. But the son s resolution 
 was firm against the well-remembered crabbed- 
 ness. 
 
 "Well, father, I know that," he returned, "but 
 to-night somehow I well, I want to say to you 
 that I feel I haven t always been the dutiful son I 
 might have been. You you understand?" 
 
 "Dutiful? Dinna ye worrit aboot that. Ye 
 were dutiful enow tae tak the hint I gaed ye that 
 gin ye took up wi a plutocrat, ye er room was 
 better than ye er coompany." 
 
 "Well, father, I" 
 
 "We ll not haggle over it. The warrld s wider 
 than life is lang, fortunately. Gang ye er ain way. 
 It s weel ye cam tonicht, however, if ye wanted tae 
 see the auld place as it is; they threaten they ll 
 tear it doon aboot my ears." 
 
 "They? Who?" 
 
 "The vultures who ll have nae nest but this. 
 The sharks o capital, who wad swallow a home 
 into their damned maws. The greedy priests o 
 Mammon, who wad offer up ilka honest heart on 
 their sacrileegious altars. Mon, Philip, I say tae 
 ye that 
 
 "But who are they, father?" broke in the young 
 man. He was becoming rather impatient of this 
 seriatim invective. If his father really had a griev 
 ance, he wanted the facts instead of rhetoric. 
 "Who are they, and what do they say?" 
 
 Then Angus told him of the new threat he had 
 1 02
 
 A MAN AND HIS CASTLE 
 
 received ; how written notice had been sent him to 
 the effect that if he did not sell out to the promot 
 ers of the new manufactory at his own price, he 
 would be forced to leave by legal means. 
 
 "It can t be done, father," exclaimed Philip, 
 warmly, "there s no warrant whatever for such 
 proceeding." 
 
 "Sae I thoucht, but there was summat in the 
 paper aboot the terms of an auld lease back o my 
 title by which I could be deespossessed. I dinna 
 ken." 
 
 "Let me see the notice." 
 
 Angus fumbled in the pocket of his black coat 
 for a moment, in vain. 
 
 "Aye, to be sure," he said, with almost a smile at 
 his own forgetfulness, "I gave it tae Geoffrey last 
 nicht." 
 
 "To Fairbrother?" 
 
 "Yes; he has a friend, ane of those lawyer 
 bodies, and he s gaen tae him to-day tae ask aboot 
 it. But I dinna think he ll try tae get here in this 
 storm." 
 
 " How long did they give you?" pursued the 
 son, now thoroughly interested in the case. 
 There must be some tremendous influence back of 
 the attempt to oust his father, he thought. He 
 wondered if he could not enlist Norton s help 
 against the promoters ; then he knew that the case 
 was hopeless, for Angus life could be made unen 
 durable in the cottage, even should he be able to 
 maintain his position there. He pitied the old 
 man s distress, though he could not enter into it; 
 for him the place was no treasure house of pleasant 
 memories. 
 
 103
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 How long did they give you?" he asked, 
 kindly. 
 
 "Twa months, or sae." 
 
 "Oh, then, it isn t so bad. You ll have time to 
 look about and get a good location with the money 
 you receive." 
 
 Angus Craig s meagre frame stiffened with 
 anger, and he passed a hand through his shock of 
 hair with a swift movement of irascibility. That 
 his own flesh and blood should so fail to compre 
 hend him was as embittering, almost, as the on 
 slaught against his home. 
 
 "Look aboot?" he shouted. "Gude location? 
 Money? An ye think I d sell, do ye? Then it s 
 mickle ye ken of ye er ain faither. No, I ll not 
 sell. If I gang, they ll have tae drag me oot. I ll 
 shoot the first mon who dares cross my threshold 
 when I forbid. Ilka mon s house is his castle, they 
 used tae say years agane. I ll show em it s ower 
 true the day. I ll " 
 
 The dashing jingle of sleigh bells, subsiding into 
 a fugitive tinkle as their wearer stopped in front of 
 the cottage, interrupted the fiery flow of Angus 
 tirade. A moment later the burly figure of Geof 
 frey Fairbrother plunged into the room, his round 
 face aglow with travel and excitement. From 
 without came the coarse, strident voice of a 
 woman. 
 
 "Hurry now, Geoffrey; this horse is worth 
 money and he can t stand out here in the cold." 
 
 Angus grasped his visitor by the hand and 
 fairly dragged him to a chair by the lamp on the 
 table. There Geoffrey attempted to explain the 
 presence of his wife, whom he had met driving 
 home and who generously offered to take him to 
 
 104
 
 A MAN AND HIS CASTLE 
 
 his destination, but he was cut short by the 
 anxious Scotchman. 
 
 "What did the lawyer mon say, Geoff? Must I 
 gang?" 
 
 Fairbrother waved a paper in the air as if it had 
 been a triumphant banner. 
 
 "Here ye are," he exclaimed, jubilantly. "He 
 wrote it down on the bottom of your paper of 
 eviction." 
 
 Craig seized the sheet with nervous energy and 
 held it close to his eyes. But his spectacles were 
 missing, and he could make nothing of the writ 
 ing. He thrust the paper back into Fairbrother s 
 hands. 
 
 "Read it, mon," he commanded. "Don t stand 
 there gaping like a fu moon. For God s sake 
 read it!" 
 
 "He s as good a lawyer as there is," prefaced 
 Geoffrey for the benefit of Philip. 
 
 "Read, mon, read." 
 
 Then Fairbrother began, in slow, ponderous 
 fashion, prolonging the words and making little 
 pauses between sentences to heighten the effect of 
 his delivery. Thus ran the opinion : 
 
 " This notice is bravado. If Craig does not 
 choose to sell, he need not. Real estate cannot be 
 seized by private parties under any pretext what 
 ever of public good. Only the state can do so 
 under the right of eminent domain. Craig s title I 
 have had looked up, and it is perfectly sound. 
 (Signed) Nathaniel Wentworth ! 
 
 No courier bringing news of victory to his 
 general could ever have effected a greater change 
 in a man than that which came upon Angus Craig 
 at his friend s report. He arose from his chair to 
 
 105
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 his full height, and there was a something in his 
 face that seemed almost supernatural in its light 
 of joy. He took the paper from Geoffrey, folded 
 it reverentially and put it in his pocket. Philip s 
 expressed desire to see it met with a cold denial; 
 the document was too precious for any other 
 scrutiny, and since he had won, what need of fur 
 ther examination? He buttoned his coat tightly 
 about him and strode to the window. He stood 
 there for a moment, as if in defiance of all the ele 
 ments of evil, seen and unseen, that were outside 
 his home. 
 
 "Noo let them come on," he said, with a ring of 
 exultation the son had never heard in his voice 
 before, "we re ready, the cot and me. They 
 thoucht tae bully Angus Craig, did they? Fools, 
 fools a , blinded by the greed o gowd !" 
 
 106
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 ON THE SEA LION. 
 
 ON a brilliant afternoon in waning May the 
 passengers of a monster incoming ocean 
 liner were filled with curiosity at the gala 
 appearance of New York Harbor. A flotilla of 
 elaborately decorated steam yachts, excursion 
 boats and sailing craft was making its way toward 
 the outer side of Staten Island, the tooting of 
 whistles and the screaming of sirens adding to the 
 noisily festive flavor of the day. 
 
 Immense barges, filled with exuberant children, 
 were proceeding in stately array, each enlivened by 
 the strains of a brass band, whose music threat 
 ened to be extinguished altogether by the snorting 
 and puffing of the tugs that provided motive 
 power. Behind these was a fleet of rowboats 
 whose occupants were all pulling as lustily as if 
 some great prize were to be the reward of their 
 exertions. 
 
 The liner s people hailed a passing tugboat to 
 get information. "What s up to-day?" shouted 
 some one through a megaphone to a grimy fellow 
 who had just emerged from the engine-room of 
 the little steamer. "What s all the excitement? 
 Is this a holiday?" 
 
 A look of contemptuous pity filled the streaked 
 face of the tugman. "Holiday? Naw! It s Nor 
 ton s shindy. Didn t yer know that?" 
 
 107
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Had the passengers been supplied with the daily 
 papers, they would have been well prepared for 
 the prodigality of flags and music and noise. For 
 days the city journals had been swelling with 
 exclusive" accounts of the mysterious something 
 that had been building in the Staten Island yards 
 for months. But spite of columns of conjecture 
 and a vast number of excellent photographs of the 
 exterior of the yard, not much in the way of facts 
 had been given the public. It was known that 
 three gangs of men had been working day and 
 night on the strange machine which John Peter 
 Norton had been heard to say would revolutionize 
 the commerce of the world ; that the same financier 
 was backing the scheme and that the inventor was 
 one Francois Deschapelles, a Frenchman. Beyond 
 that even the most astute journalists were all at 
 sea. 
 
 Strict military discipline had prevailed at the 
 mystic enclosure. Cordons of guards perpetually 
 surrounded the place, and no one was admitted 
 save the workmen, who lived in a species of bar 
 racks within a high stockade. In general they 
 were a faithful lot, and kept sealed lips; the few 
 who were occasionally overhauled in their cups by 
 the "sleuthhounds of the press" had little to tell, 
 owing to the fact that each gang worked only on 
 a small section of the craft, which was divided by 
 closely fitting walls into a dozen impenetrable 
 parts. 
 
 Some of the newspapers, despairing of getting 
 any authentic information about the machine that 
 was being built by the Norton millions, hired 
 learned and verbose scientific men to write treat 
 ises upon its probable character and its chances 
 
 1 08
 
 OA r THE SEA LION 
 
 of success. The savants varied greatly in their 
 guesses. One affirmed that the affair must be an 
 aerial car on the aeroplane principle ; another that 
 it was a steel railroad train of tubular shape in 
 tended to run on ball-bearings in a semi-circular 
 groove and propelled by thermo-electrical power. 
 This writer proceeded to argue most convincingly 
 that the speed developed would be so great that 
 human life could not be sustained, consequently 
 the train must be intended solely for the transpor 
 tation of merchandise, and its machinery would 
 be so constructed as to require no attention after 
 it had been set in motion. Violent quarrels arose 
 among the scientific gentlemen, and the brochures 
 published during that memorable spring were long 
 held in high esteem. 
 
 Nor did "John Peter s" invitations, issued per 
 sonally to a few selected guests and, through the 
 newspapers, to the great public of New York, 
 throw much light on the matter. They contained 
 a simple announcement that on the twenty-first of 
 May, at 3.30 p. m., would occur the "first public 
 trial of M. Francois Deschapelles new merchan 
 dise transportation machine." Norton himself had 
 furnished the hundreds of decorated steamers and 
 barges for the free use of such of the populace as 
 cared to become his guests. Thousands accepted, 
 as a matter of course. 
 
 The financier s personal party was small enough 
 to be comfortably accommodated on his splendid 
 steam yacht, the Sea Lion. He smiled as he re 
 flected that only a year ago that marvelous exem 
 plar of aquatic luxury had been the wonder of an 
 hour, its supreme beauty of form praised by poets 
 and pictured by artists, and its regal splendor of 
 
 109
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 fittings held up as a model by decorators all over 
 the world. Now another marvel was filling the 
 popular mind, and the Sea Lion was, as it were, a 
 servant to the new sensation. 
 
 On the shaded decks of the yacht was one of 
 Norton s favorite assemblages. "I like variety in 
 people, as well as in food," he was wont to say, 
 "and I believe it is rather more necessary." 
 
 Certainly his guests of to-day were sharply indi 
 vidualized. Beside Mrs. Norton, Helen, Craig and 
 the inevitable Haven, were the Rev. Mr. Bentley, 
 childishly happy in his day s outing; Biddle Jaff- 
 rey, the shipping magnate; Stuyvesant Lord, the 
 great railroad man, the hairs of whose head could 
 now be numbered by a child; Ward Neilson, the 
 disc millionaire, handsome as an Apollo, and 
 markedly solicitous of Helen Norton s comfort ; 
 Herbert Fish Wilson, the dry-goods potentate, 
 and a score of others who had figured in the 
 "Handicap" dinner, and were by this time quite 
 willing to be known as "John Peter s" friends. 
 And, most observed of all, the short, solid figure, 
 the flaxen moustachios and the blue eyes of Count 
 Sandstrom. His presence occasioned some sur 
 prise, for few knew he was in the country. 
 
 "Well, ef there ain t Sandstrom," exclaimed 
 Lord, with his inexplicable pretense of illiteracy. 
 "Didn t know the cuss was round. Wouldn t 
 expect to have seen him here, anyway. What s in 
 the wind, I wonder?" 
 
 "Nothing much," replied Jaffrey, who was sit 
 ting near, "except that Sandstrom and Norton 
 have been on very good terms ever since that ban 
 quet, and that his noble lordship came over on 
 
 no
 
 ON THE SEA LION 
 
 purpose to see this festivity. I understand that 
 Norton has let him in on several good things." 
 
 "H m," growled the other, "my advice to John 
 Peter d be to play pretty darn foxy with that feller. 
 He s a deep customer, and I hear he means to be 
 the money boss of Europe as his dad was before 
 him." 
 
 "I don t think we need worry about Norton," 
 returned Jaffrey, quietly, with a rather contemptu 
 ous glance at the ornamental foreigner. . . . 
 "Hullo, Price." 
 
 The salutation was for a large man whose plente 
 ous flesh seemed illy attached to his frame, so 
 exceedingly did it shake when he walked. His 
 heavy jowls always appeared to be on the point of 
 injury from his high collar, and the stubby black 
 mustache he affected did little to conceal a thick 
 and sensual mouth. The light of great energy and 
 shrewdness, however, shone from his handsome 
 brown eyes, and his forehead would have de 
 lighted a phrenologist by its nobility and symme 
 try. "Below his nose Price is a satyr," someone 
 had once said ; "above, a Newton." This dividing- 
 line was also present in his conduct of life ; he could 
 do incredibly mean things, and he could also per 
 form acts of real self-sacrifice and honor. 
 
 Such was Orville W. Price, the most famous and 
 successful editor in America, and the proprietor 
 of the "American News," a paper published in 
 twenty-two cities every morning and evening in 
 the year. "A paper for the people" was its motto 
 and subhead, printed so large that the most casual 
 runner could but read. Its circulation reached 
 into the millions and its influence with the masses 
 was more potent than that of the church itself. 
 
 in
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 He was proud of his paper, proud of himself and 
 proud of his editorial page, which he declared was 
 worth more to any given project than all the ora 
 tors the country could boast. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Bentley, whose plans had often 
 been materially assisted by Price s paper, spied the 
 editor from afar and came trotting up to the 
 group, which Norton, Haven and Craig had also 
 joined, kindness exuding from every moral pore. 
 
 "A delightful occasion, Mr. Price, I am sure; 
 and one that means so much for humanity," he 
 said. 
 
 "I fear I do not quite follow you, Mr. Bentley," 
 returned the editor, pompously. 
 
 "Why, sir, if this new ship does what Descha- 
 pelles claims for it, will it not be a great public 
 blessing?" 
 
 "Ahem. Possibly." He paused as if deliberat 
 ing some great question of state. "Possibly." 
 
 The little clergyman mildly insisted on his point. 
 He was no weakling, even in the presence of so 
 great a man as Price. 
 
 "But will it not, by reducing time and cost of 
 transportation, cheapen all articles used by the 
 poor?" 
 
 "Possibly ahem. You know, Mr. Bentley, 
 that invention, the child of necessity, often has a 
 progeny that takes back to the grandmother. I 
 and when I say T you realize, of course, that I 
 mean the News, I cannot, I say ahem cannot 
 endorse anything that threatens the interests of the 
 workingman, the ahem the reduction of the 
 working force, the in short, the sacrifice of the 
 individual to the good of the majority. My paper, 
 you know, is with, of and for the people." 
 
 112
 
 ON THE SEA LION 
 
 "And for the people s cents, eh, Mr. Price?" 
 observed Norton, quizzically. 
 
 "Yes, sir," returned the editor, in no wise dis 
 concerted, "an engine of progress must be, so to 
 speak, fed, nourished by the mites of the public, 
 given in exchange for instruction and counsel 
 combined judiciously with the presentation of the 
 topics of the day." 
 
 "He certainly looks well nourished," observed 
 Haven in a loud aside to Craig, who was listening 
 to this discussion with an interest he himself 
 scarcely realized. This was his first view of the 
 celebrated newspaper owner, and he determined to 
 study him carefully to find out, if he could, the 
 sources of his immense power. 
 
 "Now if this Frenchman, this ahem Des- 
 chapelles, could present any valid argument to 
 show that his invention is for the benefit of the 
 individual, I would be pleased to hear it. I would 
 allow him space in the News, and he would be 
 granted the privilege, I may say, of affixing his 
 signature to his article. The News, sir, aims to be 
 fair in every controversy." 
 
 "You re very kind, Price," said John Norton, 
 drily. "I think I see M. Deschapelles coming this 
 way now ; we ll let him speak for himself."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE LAUNCHING. 
 
 M FRANCOIS DESCHAPELLES dif 
 fered from the majority of inventors in 
 that he was not a self-assertive man. The 
 spark of genius that undoubtedly lay within him 
 never blazed up into visible pyrotechnics ; in fact, 
 he was timid to a degree, and had a habit of 
 shrinking from any unpleasantly decisive word 
 as from a blow. There were no graces in his 
 tall, lean body, while his sallow face, thin wisps of 
 dark hair over the lips, beak-like nose surmounted 
 by heavy gold spectacles, and high forehead en 
 circled with queer little curls, formed an ensemble 
 that the deceived onlooker generally mistook for 
 the face of avarice. Nothing could have been 
 further from the truth, for Deschapelles, to do him 
 justice, cared only for the success of his invention, 
 and not at all, at this time, for the money that 
 might accrue therefrom. 
 
 The Frenchman was excessively nervous and 
 excitable, and irritatingly voluble when once he 
 had begun to talk. This was not loquacity, but the 
 result of a dread lest his voice should run down, 
 as it were, before it had fulfilled its task. How he 
 had ever succeeded in impressing the value of his 
 machine upon Norton was a mystery to those who 
 did not know of the infinite tact and patience of 
 Philip Craig in getting the truth from a tornado of 
 
 114
 
 THE LAUNCHING 
 
 words. The secretary had even compelled the 
 inventor to write in French a succinct and compre 
 hensible treatise on his achievement. Deschapelles 
 had sense enough to know that to Craig was due 
 the whole fact of to-day s launching, and he was 
 grateful in a tempestuous fashion that irritated 
 rather than pleased the young man. 
 
 For some time, as the Sea Lion proceeded 
 toward the yard where to him was the centre of the 
 universe, the well-spring of life itself, Deschapelles 
 had been pacing the deck in actual agony. The 
 possibility he was inclined to say the probability 
 of failure had made of him a moral coward. He 
 had no valid reasons for his fears, for his working 
 models had been eminently successful; yet now 
 that the supreme test had come, now that the eyes 
 of the whole civilized world were fixed on the crea 
 ture of his brain, he was afraid to stand the issue. 
 
 His very presence on the yacht at this moment, 
 instead of at the yard, was the result of this gloomy 
 foreboding. In fact, he had been abjectly running 
 away from the trial when Norton, on his way to 
 embark, had seen him rushing for an up-river 
 steamer, and had dragged him back to duty by 
 main force. Disgusted by such a pusillanimous 
 exhibition, the capitalist had not spoken to him 
 during the entire trip. Now, as the inventor 
 approached the group of his friends, he looked at 
 him with a species of wonderment that such men 
 could actually exist. 
 
 "Well, Deschapelles," he said, as kindly as he 
 could, after a sweeping introduction to the party 
 had been made, "have you mustered up pluck 
 enough to face the music of your own making?" 
 
 The inventor shifted uneasily from one foot to
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 another and spasmodically twisted his puny mus 
 tache. He looked piteously from face to face as if 
 in search of moral support. 
 
 "Je ne sais pas," he stammered at length. "I do 
 not I cannot oh, mon Diet 
 
 Norton s thin lips set in a straight line, and his 
 eyes dilated. He forgot entirely the presence of 
 his guests. 
 
 "You infernal coward," he exclaimed, "at tne 
 very brink of success you show the white feather !" 
 
 The Frenchman started back as if struck by a 
 lash. 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur Norton and gentlemen, my 
 nairves! Zey are what you call him? all un 
 strung." 
 
 "Nerves!" ejaculated "John Peter" with su 
 preme contempt, "here, take hold of my hand ; 
 steady, isn t it ? Feel of my arm ; firm as a bar of 
 iron. Yet it is I, not you, who might be excused 
 for trembling. You are a nameless inventor; if you 
 fail, you are no worse and no better off than before 
 you will only be forgotten. But if this is a 
 fiasco, I shall not be forgotten. I shall be ridiculed 
 for putting any stock in you ; I shall be reminded 
 of a fool and his money. They ll sneer as they 
 say that John Peter wasn t too smart to be gulled 
 by a wild-eyed crank. Be a man, for heaven s 
 sake." 
 
 "Ah, oui, a man. Zat ess eet. Zat ees what I 
 would admire to be. Mais, how, how, Messieurs?" 
 
 "As good a way as I know," broke in Neilson, 
 lazily, though really pitying the man s mental dis 
 tress, "would be for you to assimilate a good stiff 
 horn of whiskey. Norton, can t I ring for a stew 
 ard ? It s a real act of chanty, you know." 
 
 116
 
 THE LAUNCHING 
 
 "As you like, Neilson," returned the host, 
 calmly, though to my mind a heart that has to 
 be fired with that sort of fuel ought to be banked 
 for good." 
 
 The miserable object of Norton s scorn walked 
 away slowly and prepared to go below. But just 
 as he reached the companion-way he felt a light 
 touch on his arm, and, turning, saw a delightful 
 vision in blue with a face all compassion and en 
 couragement. He wondered how much of his 
 denunciation Helen Norton had heard, and his 
 shame was deeper than ever. 
 
 "You are anxious, M. Deschapelles," she said, 
 kindly; "so are we all. But I we all, believe in 
 you and the ship." 
 
 "You do, Mademoiselle? You think I have not 
 failed?" 
 
 "Failed? Certainly not. How can we fail with 
 such a genius as yours and with my father sup 
 porting it?" 
 
 She spoke proudly, as befitting the daughter of 
 a man who had conquered the encrusted conserva 
 tism of New York by the sheer force of his courage 
 and ability. And as the poor inventor saw the 
 strong light of faith in her pretty eyes, he, too, 
 revived. No alcoholic stimulant could have had 
 half the effect of this womanly help. 
 
 Together they paced the deck for a while, the 
 girl cleverly leading the conversation away from 
 the dark topic of the new boat. The inventor 
 began to smile and actually lost something of his 
 haggard look. 
 
 As they walked back and forth, Craig from the 
 group of magnates looked on with a curious sense 
 of solicitude. Helen must certainly be annoyed by 
 
 117
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 the vagaries and confidences of the inventor. She 
 had probably begun by making herself agreeable, 
 and had become an unwilling victim. Really, it 
 was too bad. He turned to Rev. Mr. Bentley with 
 an expression of his thought. 
 
 "I believe Deschapelles is distressing Miss Nor 
 ton with his fears," he said. "Perhaps I d better 
 go and rescue her." 
 
 The kindly eyes of the clergyman followed the 
 figure of the young man with a different expres 
 sion than was usual to them a look of merry 
 appreciation. Every man to his own duty, 
 thought the kindly, honest gentleman, and if the 
 call is to a lovely young woman who smiles when 
 you draw near why, so much the more reason for 
 gratitude to providence. 
 
 The yacht had by this time reached its moor 
 ings, and Norton s party proceeded to disembark 
 into small boats, to be rowed to the shipyard. 
 
 "Vill you not veesh me bon fortune?" whispered 
 Deschapelles to Helen, as the girl was preparing 
 to descend the landing-steps. 
 
 She smiled and extended her hand. 
 
 "You will succeed," she said, and the memory 
 of that hearty hand-clasp dwelt with the inventor 
 long after he had hurried ashore and had taken his 
 post to direct the event of the day. 
 
 The scene presented to the thousands of eager 
 eyes was one long remembered in the records of 
 great crowds around New York. From either side 
 of the ways extended a line of steamboats and 
 barges, forming a lane half a mile in length. Flags 
 fluttered, bunting waved, bands played and people 
 cheered. Around and behind the enclosure multi 
 tudes were massed in lavishly adorned stands, ris- 
 
 118
 
 THE LAUNCHING 
 
 ing high into the air, tier upon tier of solid ranks. 
 
 Over the place of mystery was a gigantic tent, 
 at each corner of which was a balloon at short 
 tether. At once the stock of those scientific men 
 who had predicted an aerial car, rose enormously, 
 and the other disputants, all of whom were col 
 lected on a stand well in front, were silenced into 
 acquiescence. 
 
 The Norton platform near the water s edge was 
 a gorgeous affair covered by a silken canopy and 
 decorated with the richest of velvet and costly 
 rugs. The regal fetes of the Venetian doges had 
 furnished the suggestion for the structure, and the 
 old world had been ransacked for fabrics and orna 
 mentation. 
 
 But more attractive still to the eyes of the spec 
 tators was the figure of the girl in pale blue who 
 stood in a little golden semi-circle that jutted out 
 from the capitalist s stand. Her fluffy golden hair 
 aureoled her sweet face, on which the dainty flag 
 of excitement was already flying. She stood there 
 alone before that myriad-band of men and women, 
 undismayed, and yet modest as a Diana, a fit type 
 of American girlhood at its purest and best. 
 
 Only for a moment, however, did Helen stand 
 out before the rest. Then she touched a tiny knob, 
 and immediately the balloons rose into the air 
 carrying with them the great tent, and revealing 
 on the marine stocks the strangest craft that was 
 ever seen. Its most striking feature was a series of 
 propellors of peculiar corkscrew type along the 
 immense hull just below the water-line and begin 
 ning back of amidships on either side. It was evi 
 dent to the crowd that tremendous power must be 
 a characteristic of the new Norton boat, but at 
 
 119
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 what expenditure of fuel or motive force could 
 scarcely be estimated. 
 
 Before the scientists could even mentally calcu 
 late the cost of running such a monster, there was 
 a great creaking of timbers, a shrill cry of triumph 
 in the French tongue, and the sweet exclamation 
 of a girl as she dashed a bottle against the side of 
 the descending craft; then, amid the booming of 
 cannon, the flaring outburst of a gigantic band and 
 the shouts of tens of thousands of human voices, 
 the boat slid into the sea with the grace of a water 
 fowl, and rode the turbulent waves like a con 
 queror. 
 
 Only those near the Norton stand heard the 
 agonized cry of a woman as the ponderous vessel 
 went past; only a few saw the coil of a great 
 hawser, as if it had been some malevolent serpent, 
 suddenly snatch up a lithe figure in blue and whirl 
 it into the green and white water below. Craig 
 heard and saw, and the picture was never after 
 ward quite effaced from his consciousness. 
 
 With a mighty spring he leaped over the velvet- 
 bound railing and plunged into the swirling water. 
 Even in the brief second of his descent he could see 
 Avhere the hawser had dragged its victim below the 
 surface, and for that spot he swam desperately. A 
 few yards ahead appeared a mass of golden hair 
 floating on the tide. 
 
 "I m coming; I m here, Helen," he cried, but 
 there was no answer and no sign of life in the up 
 turned face. Craig knew that the girl was a good 
 swimmer, and he realized that the cable had 
 crushed animation, perhaps life itself, from her 
 body. He plunged on like a madman. 
 
 Just as the fair head was slowly settling in the 
 1 20
 
 THE LAUNCHING 
 
 seething water, Craig had the supreme joy of 
 thrusting an arm around the girl s waist. The 
 touch seemed to revive her, for she opened her 
 eyes and gazed at him in bewilderment. She 
 smiled, too, and murmured something he could 
 not understand. But he felt sure that she knew 
 she was safe. 
 
 Boats had now reached them, and their rescue 
 was prompt and easy. The Sea Lion s sailors 
 rowed them swiftly to the yacht, where John 
 Norton was already waiting for them. Only the 
 deathly pallor of his face showed the ordeal 
 through which he had passed. 
 
 "I thank you, Philip," he said, simply, as he 
 grasped his secretary s hand. "You have done me 
 a great service. I am your debtor, and I shall not 
 forget it." 
 
 121
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "DOC" BAYLES TELLS A STORY. 
 
 PHILIP CRAIG lived the few days following 
 the rescue as one in a dream. Sleeping or 
 waking, he saw the fair face of Helen Norton 
 floating on troubled waters, and felt the pressure 
 of her limp body against his own. And while he 
 shuddered at what might have been, he rejoiced at 
 what was, for the episode had transformed him 
 from an admirer to a lover. There was no further 
 disguising the condition of his heart. He, the 
 strong and earnest scion of a stern race, was a slave 
 who courted the privilege of continuing in 
 shackles. 
 
 The usual torture of uncertainty was his, but to 
 a more than usual degree. That he, without any 
 of the graces he thought necessary for the attrac 
 tion of a young girl, should quicken the pulses of 
 the pretty Helen, was too much even for his usu 
 ally serene self-confidence. For the first time in 
 his life he found before him a barrier that none of 
 his ordinarily trusted qualities could overcome. 
 So, from the pinnacle of his first wild exaltation, 
 he was cast down into the depths of despair in the 
 fashion that mankind has ever known since the 
 time when the wooer won his inamorata by the 
 forcible persuasion of the club. 
 
 There came occasional bright days when he saw 
 Helen and dwelt in the sunshine of her interest. 
 
 122
 
 "DOC" BAYLES TELLS A STORY 
 
 This was, of course, during the discussion of the 
 plans for Bentley-on-Hudson, The walls of the 
 hospital were already partially erected, and a date 
 had been set for the dedication ceremonies. He 
 found that there was a something new in their 
 relations, at least on his part not restraint so much 
 as the feeling of awe common to young men when 
 they are in that stage of love where even devotion 
 seems a sort of profanation. Yet to be with her, 
 to feel the subtle currents from her personality to 
 his, to read what he might in her eyes, was to 
 Philip sufficient reward for whatever gloom he 
 experienced apart from her. 
 
 He was a busy man at this time, too, yet not 
 all his multiple duties as John Norton s charge 
 d affaires could quite banish the love-thought from 
 his mind. His employer had once or twice urged 
 him to bring certain projects of which he had 
 executive control to as speedy completion as pos 
 sible, as he had other and greater plans pending. 
 
 The trial trip of the Commerce so the Descha- 
 pelles ship was named brought in its wake a 
 train of hard work. The vessel proved to be a 
 wonderful craft, indeed, cutting large slices from 
 the best records of navigation, and the demand 
 for the type was immediate and insistent. Con 
 tracts for a large number of the boats had to be 
 placed, and Craig handled every detail of the busi 
 ness. 
 
 At times the French inventor nearly drove him 
 frantic with his suggestions and negations; but 
 pretending interest in another of the man s cre 
 ations, he finally got clear of him by inducing him 
 to go to work at it. 
 
 One dull afternoon, about two weeks after the 
 123
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 launching, Craig betook himself to Oceanic to 
 consult with "Doc" Bayles about the disposal of 
 the splendid string of Norton s race horses. They 
 were not to be sold "John Peter" would have 
 met such a proposal with the utmost contempt, 
 and did, in fact, nearly annihilate Haven for 
 mildly suggesting it. All the noble animals, 
 save King Capital, were destined to be gifts to 
 those men whom Norton cared either to propi 
 tiate or to retain as financial friends. 
 
 At the entrance to the great circular stable 
 Philip brushed aside the flunky who was for call 
 ing Bayles to the reception room, and walked out 
 into the exercising yard in the rear, where he felt 
 reasonably sure of finding the trainer. And there, 
 in fact, "Doc" was, engaged in the prosaic task of 
 rubbing an old horse s knee with liniment. He 
 straightened up with some exertion, and touched 
 his cap respectfully to the protege of "John 
 Peter." In view of the rank of his caller he 
 would have stopped work and taken him to 
 more luxurious quarters, but Craig declined to 
 interrupt such a laudable task. 
 
 "Go on, Bayles," he said, "we can talk here as 
 well as anywhere else. A sick horse, I see." 
 
 "Yes, sir. Rheumatism bothers Cowboy power 
 ful bad these days. He ain t never got used to 
 the east wind hereabout." 
 
 "Is he a racer?" 
 
 "Lord bless you, sir, no indeed. Just an old 
 saddle hoss o mine. Like me, he s kinder out 
 lived his usefulness. But I keep him for the sake 
 of other days." 
 
 The old fellow stopped again, and resumed his 
 rubbing, while his equine friend lay his nose on 
 
 124
 
 "DOC" BAYLES TELLS A STORY 
 
 the man s shoulder and closed his eyes as if in 
 great content. 
 
 "Seems to do him good," observed Craig, 
 touched by this eloquent tribute to the trainer s 
 kindness. 
 
 "Yes sir, it relieves him mightily. Dunno s 
 it really stops the pain, but it makes the poor old 
 critter feel as if somebody cared for him. Do 
 you know, sir" and he looked up from his work 
 with a faraway expression "do you know I think 
 they can tell when a man cares for em by the 
 touch. As the poet says, the first inclination 
 that an animal has is to protect himself, and that 
 applies to hosses." 
 
 Much more of equines and of authors the gar 
 rulous trainer would have said had not Craig felt 
 obliged to be at the business of the day. He 
 carefully repeated the instructions of Norton as 
 to the disposal of the horses, and gave Bayles a 
 list of the men to be favored and the location of 
 their respective stables. "Doc" was to ride each 
 animal to its given destination, and there leave it 
 with John P. Norton s compliments. 
 
 "And that being done, Bayles," continued the 
 secretary, "you are to report to Mr. Norton s 
 city stables for duty." 
 
 At this the old man s face, which had length 
 ened woefully during the recital of the plans to 
 break up the string, lighted up amazingly. He 
 chewed his wisp of hay with all the relish of old, 
 and actually began to hum a bit of weird tune. 
 Then something else occurred to him. 
 
 "I I don t like to look a gift horse in the 
 mouth, Mr. Craig, but why are we to go there? 
 
 125
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 There s more hands there now than they really 
 need." 
 
 "Mr. Norton intends to have you take charge 
 of the stables as a sort of general overseer, with 
 your son to do the active supervision." 
 
 Now "Doc s" simple joy was complete, his 
 faith sublime. 
 
 "There, I told Muggsy that it was a horse of 
 that color, and that John Norton wouldn t ever 
 drive us where we couldn t serve him. I was a 
 bit afeard, though, when he gave us that piece of 
 paper." 
 
 "What paper?" 
 
 "Why, that there check for the Handicap 
 stakes. Of course that makes us independent, if 
 we wants to use it." 
 
 "So you haven t used it?" 
 
 "No, siree. Me and Muggsy are agreed on 
 that, ain t we, youngster?" This to his hopeful, 
 who had just rolled stolidly up to the region of 
 the lame horse. 
 
 "We are, Doc/ " assented the son without a 
 sign of emotion. He always addressed his father 
 after the manner of the stable. 
 
 "Who knows," continued the elder Bayles, "but 
 some day but, there, there. This here stable s 
 to be broken up right away. A short hoss is 
 soon curried, as the ." Again he seemed to be 
 lost in meditation. "Tell John Pe I mean Mr. 
 Norton that we re very happy that he remem 
 bered us; aint we, Muggsy ?" 
 
 "Yes, Doc. 
 
 "Well, why in thunder don t you say so, then ? 
 Ain t you got any heart in yer? Why, I 
 
 126
 
 "DOC" BAYLES TELLS A STORY 
 
 shouldn t wonder if you was in love, you young 
 rascal." 
 
 At this direct and disturbing accusation the 
 little jockey looked very sheepish indeed, and 
 tried to hide his confusion by chewing vigorously 
 on a bit of cracked corn he had taken from a grain- 
 bin near by. But he had no answer to make. 
 
 "You see, sir," said "Doc" apologetically, 
 " Muggsy s nerve has been trained so fine at 
 horse racing ever since he was a youngster that 
 he s a bit slow in warming up. But jest you say 
 anything about Dandy and he ll get to going all 
 right. Dandy s Miss Norton s hoss now, you 
 know going to be sent to town to-morrow, and 
 I m durned if he don t get the sweetest and 
 purtiest mistress a critter ever had." 
 
 At the mention of Helen, Craig, who but a 
 moment before had been all impatience to go, now 
 cast about for some plausible excuse to stay. So 
 changes the very atmosphere of a place upon 
 which has been breathed a loved name. 
 
 "You know Miss Norton well, I take it, Bayles," 
 said the young man insinuatingly. If the trainer 
 were as loquacious on this subject as on that of 
 horses, what a delightful companion he must be. 
 
 "Since she was knee high to a grasshopper, sir. 
 I was with Mr. Norton long afore he ever owned 
 any race hosses. Nat rally, I used to see a good 
 deal of Miss Helen, and she of me. That was out 
 west, you understand. I taught her to ride, and 
 we ve had many a good, hard gallop over the 
 plains together. And sometimes when it rained 
 she d come out to the stable and hear me read 
 Shakespeare; I was a purty good reader in them 
 days, if I do say it, afore my voice got kinks in it. 
 
 127
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Anyways, she allus said so. She was an all-fired 
 sweet little gal, but, Lord love you, she was an 
 independent puss, too. Used to set her will up 
 again her father s, and sometimes she d win. 
 Why, I remember once but mebbe I m tiring 
 you with all this gab, Mr. Craig." 
 
 "Go on, Bayles," urged Philip. This was more 
 enchanting than even the music of the "new ton 
 ality." 
 
 "Well, sir, one time when Miss Helen was about 
 nine she happened to see some of us brandin a 
 hoss. My, how mad she was! She didn t git 
 over it for a week. Some time arter that we had 
 about a dozen new hosses arrive, and Miss Helen 
 she overheard some talk about brandin them, 
 too. 
 
 "You kin jest bet she made a great row for 
 bid me to do it, and so on. But I told her that 
 orders was orders, and I had to obey em. Then 
 she rushed off to find her father and git him to 
 stop the brandin . 
 
 "Purty soon she come back, and I could see by 
 her face that she hadn t succeeded. 
 "Well, how bout it? says I. 
 
 " Papa says that it has to be done, or else the 
 hosses will all get lost or stolen, she says. There 
 has to be something to dentify em. And with 
 that she dried her eyes, and goes off to play, and I 
 thought no more about it. 
 
 "The hosses was to be branded next day, and I 
 got up early so s to git the job off and out the way 
 afore Miss Helen came round. But when I 
 opened the door of trie stable and looked down 
 the row of stalls, I see the durndest,. queerest 
 sight a man ever laid eyes on. Every blamed 
 
 128
 
 "DOC" BAYLES TELLS A STORY. 
 
 how had a bit o pasteboard tied round his off 
 hind leg with a blue ribbon! I found that each 
 one was a business card o John Norton s, and 
 on em was written in ink: Please Return. 
 
 At the remembrance of this startling event 
 even "Muggsy" came out from his apathetic state. 
 A grin wrinkled his little face, and then he laughed 
 with a staccato series of chuckles that resembled 
 nothing so much as the bark of a prairie-dog. 
 
 "Well, sir," went on "Doc," "that blessed gal 
 had been out in the night and tied on them cards 
 to see if it wouldn t satisfy her father on the 
 identification business. How she ever escaped 
 bein kicked to death was a miracle; the Lord 
 must a took good care of her. 
 
 "When Mr. Norton heard of it he give orders 
 that there weren t to be no brandin and the hosses 
 went gallavantin round the plains with them 
 cards on till they was all wore out. Arter that 
 we made metal tags fastened on with little chains, 
 and brandin was given up altogether. And that 
 there gal did the whole thing, bless her purty blue 
 eyes. She s thoroughbred, and nothin else." 
 
 "That s so ; Doc, " said "Muggsy" sagely. 
 
 "That s so, Doc/ " said Philip Craig to himself 
 fervently, as he took his leave and went back to 
 plunge anew into the maelstrom of the great city. 
 
 129
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A DAY IN JUNE. 
 
 PHILIP S love for Helen burned the more ar 
 dently by concealment, as is the habit of that 
 species of conflagration. His rather high- 
 strung conscientiousness kept him from being an 
 open wooer for two reasons. 
 
 In the first place, he felt that it would be almost 
 disloyal to his employer to take advantage of the 
 situation in which he had been placed with such 
 entire confidence. Proximity, the most powerful 
 of all Cupid s friends, had been granted him 
 solely in a business way, and he was not the man 
 to use it to further his own love-interest. 
 
 Again, he knew that, as yet, he had not proven 
 himself, had not "arrived." To be worthy of 
 Helen Norton in the eyes of the world, or even 
 in his own regard, he must do something far more 
 notable than to act successfully as executive agent 
 for a millionaire s carefully outlined plans. He 
 was sure that with "John Peter" it would be 
 achievement and not descent, nor moral qualities, 
 nor even mere money, that would best plead his 
 cause as a suitor. 
 
 So he forced himself to bide his time. He would 
 distinguish himself in some way and at some time; 
 of that he had little doubt. Then . 
 
 But for young blood to martyrize itself is no 
 easy task, especially when it flows in contiguity to 
 
 130
 
 A DAY IN JUNE 
 
 other young- blood of opposite sex molecules. 
 Craig realized this on many occasions. Being a 
 sensible young man, he knew that he was persona 
 grata to the pretty daughter of the house of Nor 
 ton ; he was often sorely tempted to make a further 
 test of her sentiments, and know his fate once and 
 for all. Then up would rise his delicate sense of 
 honor and guard the slight barrier so firmly that 
 he would not try to break through. 
 
 He was almost glad, therefore, when, one day 
 in June, Norton called him to his private office 
 and told him to be in readiness for a European trip 
 to occupy, it might be, several months. He had 
 a certain feeling of relief that he was to be re 
 moved from associations that might any day strain 
 his fortitude to the breaking point. And even in 
 foreign lands he could go on with his dreams; 
 baseless hope was better than shattered hope, he 
 told himself. 
 
 Another thing that cheered him in a really pos 
 itive way was Norton s announcement that this 
 European mission was one of vast importance, and 
 that if he carried it through successfully, he would 
 be substantially advanced in salary and power. 
 "And all for her sake," thought Philip. 
 
 What the great errand might be gave him little 
 concern; in fact, he had never attempted to probe 
 beneath the surface of his chief s undertakings. 
 He had done his work faithfully and well, neither 
 asking nor desiring any explanations. He did not 
 know it, but this soldierly quality had been one of 
 his chief means of finding favor with the impassive 
 Norton. And now, when confronted by a pro 
 posal that would have thrown many men into ec-
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 stacies of delight or tortures of nervousness, he 
 replied simply: 
 
 "Very well, sir. I will go home at once, and be 
 in readiness in the early afternoon." 
 
 "I scarcely think there is need for quite so much 
 haste," returned Norton with a smile. "You may 
 not go for a week yet. Let s see, aren t there 
 some dedicatory exercises up the Hudson at which 
 you must be the animating spirit?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; a week from next Tuesday." 
 
 The question and its answer all at once sug 
 gested a new thought to Philip. Would it not be 
 honorable, would it not be best for himself to seize 
 this opportunity to tell John Norton of his love 
 for Helen, to ask to be a tentative lover whose 
 future would depend on his own accomplishings? 
 But, with swift reasoning, he decided against it. 
 Instinct told him that the time was not yet ripe. 
 As for concealment, "silent affection can do no 
 harm," he thought. "I shall be no less the faithful 
 employe because I remain the undeclared lover," 
 and so the opportunity went by. 
 
 John Norton declined to go to the dedication 
 of Bentley-on-Hudson, and his reasons were 
 characteristic. 
 
 "If I should go," he declared to his disappointed 
 daughter, "the newspapers would slop all over 
 the thing, and very likely accuse me of all sorts 
 of unwholesome motives. You and your mother 
 will attract very little attention, my dear. Besides, 
 I m extremely busy. But you know I am heartily 
 in sympathy with your scheme, and if you should 
 need anything more, call on me." 
 
 The weather was graciously fitting for the occa 
 sion; it was the rich mellowness of mature June, 
 
 132
 
 A DAY IN JUNE 
 
 when the youth of summer is still above suspicion. 
 Around the hospital were waving fields of grass, 
 with their myriad points of wild-flowers and their 
 sweet, \varm odors. Further back were the forests 
 of spraying green, long untouched by any axe. 
 Birds were furnishing the music for the ceremony 
 far more enthusiastically than could any hired per 
 formers. It was a day when young hearts could 
 revel in life and older ones be at peace. 
 
 The dedication was simplicity itself. Besides 
 Rev. Mr. Bentley, Mrs. Norton, Helen, Armisted 
 and a few contractors, the only others present 
 were a couple of city reporters whose chiefs, in 
 that mysterious manner known to editors, had got 
 ten wind of what was going on. These two gen 
 tlemen looked rather disgusted at the apparent 
 poverty of the event in a news sense. They had 
 expected some elaborate function on the usual 
 Norton scale, with perhaps a "feed" that would 
 justify their coming. 
 
 This pair Craig received graciously, for he knew 
 it to be a theory of John Norton s that it was 
 cheaper to conciliate than to offend even the 
 most offensively hostile journal. They were 
 tactfully led to suppose that Mr. Bentley was the 
 real projector of the work, and this they were 
 quite ready to believe ; they were therefore pleased 
 to perform what they considered a public spirited 
 action. 
 
 In pursuance of the Norton policy of never 
 depriving any portion of the press of news given 
 to others, Philip decided to send out a duplicate 
 telegram to papers and news associations giving 
 the salient points of the day s event. 
 
 The exercises were soon over. Grouped about 
 J33
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 a fountain in the fine central courtyard, the little 
 party listened to a few words from Armisted on 
 the structural advantages of the building, and 
 then to a prayer from Mr. Bentley, who asked 
 the blessing of God on the undertaking. 
 
 As Helen gazed at the little man, his head 
 bowed in prayer and his fine voice attuned to the 
 tenderest and most solemn tones, she saw him 
 as one transfigured, and forgot all the oddities of 
 his appearance in her admiration for his beautiful 
 nature. 
 
 At the end of the ceremony there was found to 
 be an hour s wait before they needed to take car 
 riages to the station to meet their train. Philip 
 had completed his telegram to the papers, and 
 announced that he would walk on ahead, file his 
 message and wait for the others. 
 
 "A walk?" exclaimed Helen, "that s just the 
 thing. Then you won t have to take that stuffy 
 old hack. Mama, why can t we walk, too?" 
 
 Mrs. Norton was rather dubious. 
 
 "I m afraid, my dear, that these rough roads 
 will be a bit too much for me. But you may 
 walk if you wish. I have no doubt that Mr. 
 Craig will let you go with him." 
 
 "Will you," Mr. Craig?" she asked, with a 
 charming air of demanding a favor she knew was 
 already granted. 
 
 Would he? He felt the blood leap from his 
 heart and somehow tighten his throat. To walk 
 with her alone under the June sky and through the 
 blossoming loveliness of the country, was more 
 happiness than he had dreamed of. Would he? 
 
 "I shall be delighted," he said truly and with 
 what calm he could summon up. "Perhaps we 
 
 134
 
 A DAY IN JUNE 
 
 had better be starting on, so that we may not 
 have to hurry." 
 
 Hurry ! He knew that he would not hurry 
 for all the telegrams and trains in the world. He 
 knew that he would make this golden hour so 
 full of precious seconds that the laws of time 
 would seem to be null and void. He knew him 
 self for a hypocrite, who only wanted to get a 
 young girl quickly away into his own keeping; 
 and he gloried in the knowledge. 
 
 As they proceeded along the winding country 
 road, a silence fell upon them after the first few 
 words about the hospital. For Craig this was no 
 hardship; to be walking with this desirable maid 
 on such a day was a sufficient gift from provi 
 dence. 
 
 Helen was still pondering over the approaching 
 tenancy of Bentley-on-Hudson by the tiny halt 
 and maimed, and Craig could read the traces of 
 feeling on her expressive face. He blessed the 
 "stuffy hack" that had given him this piece of 
 happiness, and he was thankful that the road was 
 comparatively free from travel. Once when a rosy 
 young Hebrew peddler, pack on back, passed them 
 with a lively whistled tune, he was almost inclined 
 to resent the fellow s journey as an intrusion. 
 
 By and by they came to a little wooded dell 
 where a brook passed under the road. The sight 
 of it roused the girl from her revery. The warm 
 sun and brisk walk had set a flush on her cheeks, 
 and the shade s appeal was very inviting. 
 
 "Oh. let s rest here a bit, Mr. Craig," she cried. 
 "I confess I m rather warm. We ve plenty of 
 time, haven t we?" 
 
 "Plenty; but I think there s a prettier place up 
 135
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 the brook a little way," returned the young man 
 diplomatically. "See, the trees are shadier and 
 there is a fine rock to sit on." 
 
 "All right," she agreed cheerily, "you lower 
 one bar, and I ll vault the others." And over she 
 went, touching one hand lightly, with all the grace 
 of a trained steeple-chaser. 
 
 Philip s dell was certainly an improvement on 
 the other, and Helen admitted as much. She sat 
 down on a large, smooth rock overlooking a dark 
 pool wherein seemed to lurk piscatorial possibili 
 ties. 
 
 Philip threw himself on some soft moss at her 
 feet and watched her remove her hat with a child 
 ish delight. A simple thing the removing of a 
 hat and yet it seemed to him under the circum 
 stances intimate and intoxicating. He thought 
 she had never looked lovelier than at that 
 moment. 
 
 Helen was now as full of animated chatter as 
 she had before been held by silence. 
 
 "What a beautiful place this is !" she exclaimed. 
 "It will really seem to the poor children as if they 
 had reached heaven. There, I suppose Mr. Bent- 
 ley would think that speech sacrilegious." 
 
 "It certainly will be heaven compared to their 
 home surroundings," said Philip. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," she returned fervently. "Oh, you 
 should have seen what I did to-day ! I went to see 
 a little chap whose leg is bent way up under his 
 body and will never straighten, they say. And the 
 horror of his home ! No sun, no air, hardly any 
 light. What a blessed change it will be to this. 
 I shall love to come here often while the building 
 
 136
 
 A DAY IN JUNE 
 
 is going on ; and you will come here, too, of 
 course, Mr. Craig?" 
 
 "Yes, if I am so situated that I can; business, 
 you know." 
 
 "Yes, but my father said you were to supervise 
 everything; he ll find time for you." 
 
 "If I am here if. I am in New York, I mean." 
 
 "Why, you are not thinking of leaving us of 
 leaving my father?" 
 
 Did he detect a note of vague alarm in her 
 voice? For a brief moment he thought so, and 
 then he was smiling at his own folly. 
 
 "No, I have no thought of leaving," he replied, 
 "but Mr. Norton warned me the other day to be 
 in readiness at an hour s notice to start for 
 Europe." 
 
 "For Europe? You? For how long?" 
 
 "He did not say, but as the undertaking is of 
 importance I imagine it means a considerable 
 time." 
 
 The girl made no further comment, and again 
 silence crept between them, a stillness that not 
 even the wild paean of a bobolink in a neighbor 
 ing hay field could render less oppressive. 
 
 A great dread came over Craig s heart, the fear 
 that at any time the call of duty would set the 
 seal of repression upon him. Why should he more 
 than other men, happy lovers, be driven from his 
 Eden because of his o\vn folly of dumbness? He 
 idly wondered if Adam had no inclination to fight 
 the angel of the flaming sword when turned out 
 of Paradise. He began to throw pebbles into the 
 brook, aimlessly. 
 
 At last something in Helen s iong silence at 
 tracted his attention. He saw that she was 
 
 137
 
 O.V SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 looking to the thin strip of the blue Hudson, just 
 visible between the trees and far away to the 
 north. Her gaze was dull and wistful, and his 
 heart grieved at the change upon the fair face. 
 Was it what he had told her? Was it ? 
 
 "Helen," he said, choosing his words with great 
 deliberation, "would you care if I were going away 
 never to return?" 
 
 "Never?" she echoed with a curious accent, as 
 if she had heard but did not understand. 
 
 "If I were to go to a faraway land, if I were 
 never to see you again would you be sorry?" 
 
 A hunted look came into her blue eyes, an ex 
 pression of protest as at some undeserved punish 
 ment. 
 
 "Sorry? Oh, Mr. Craig, I I" 
 
 "And if I went, would you wish me to go with 
 an unspoken secret?" 
 
 "A secret?" 
 
 "My, dear yes. The secret that I love you." 
 
 He rose to his feet in the stress of his emotion, 
 and paced the mossy ground. 
 
 "There, I ve blurted it out," he cried. "Per 
 haps you will despise me for it, but you cannot 
 refuse at least my friendship. And if it is pre 
 sumption, you will pardon me for it?" 
 
 There was no answer. He turned and saw that 
 the girl s face was buried in her hands and that 
 her shoulders heaved gently. 
 
 "Don t don t be troubled," he said tenderly. 
 "I can t bear to see you troubled." 
 
 He gently stroked her fair hair with a touch of 
 infinite love and devotion. At that she raised 
 her head, and her eyes, moist and filled with a 
 light that was newly born, looked into his. With 
 
 138
 
 A DAY. IN JUNE 
 
 that adorable gaze the golden world around him 
 seemed to flash fire. 
 
 "Helen," he cried, "you cannot mean it; you 
 cannot " 
 
 She spoke no word, but on her beautiful face 
 was woman s yielding, woman s answer, in the 
 tender dawning of a smile. Ever so little her head 
 bowed its allegiance, so slightly, indeed, that he 
 thought it only his fancy. Then she rose, and, 
 trembling, stepped toward his outstretched arms. 
 
 But quicker than she, he sprang forward and 
 clasped her willing body against his own, straining 
 her in a passionate embrace that spoke of long 
 repression. An ardent kiss sealed their troth, and 
 for both there was born a new heaven and a new 
 earth. 
 
 From that moment and as long as he lived the 
 odor of new mown hay was for Philip Craig the 
 very perfume of love. 
 
 139
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A BOLT FROM THE BLUE. 
 
 T UST how Philip Craig piloted his party home 
 from Bentley-on-Hudson was never quite 
 clear to him. He had a misty recollection of 
 trains, tickets, swift motion, a carriage and a ten 
 der pressure of the hand at parting. Quite free 
 from mental fog, however, was the picture of a 
 face, the glance of blue eyes in which a new light 
 shone, the radiance of a happy smile. Love may 
 be blind himself, but he gives his devotees so 
 marvelously clear a vision that they see beyond 
 the veil of mere physical attributes. So to Craig 
 this pretty young Helen Norton was a veritable 
 Helen of Troy, worth the loss of a kingdom or the 
 battles of years. 
 
 And was he beloved in return, he asked himself, 
 as he sat in his library that night and tried to read. 
 Ah, yes, for beside the yielding and the kiss he 
 had a tangible pledge of their plighted troth. 
 Fumbling in his pocket he drew forth a tiny 
 square of lace-bordered muslin that she had shyly 
 thrust into his hand when he had asked for a 
 token. As he kissed it in the way of lovers, its 
 subtle fragrance seemed to him as the odor of new 
 mown hay, the scent of which still intoxicated his 
 brain. And if his dreams were all of Helen that 
 night, perhaps it was due to the magic influence 
 of the pretty trifle that rested beneath his pillow. 
 
 140
 
 A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 
 
 The morning light roused him into the realiza 
 tion that the world does not stand still upon its 
 axis simply because it bears a new pair of lovers 
 on its course. He sprang into the activities of the 
 day with an energy and zest he had never known 
 before. It was a wonderful thing, this life, and all 
 the people who shared it with him were superior 
 beings. 
 
 "John," said he to the negro elevator boy as 
 they reached the ground floor, "how long is it 
 since I gave you anything?" 
 
 Tlr\ dusky youth grinned with mirthful antici 
 pation. 
 
 "Well, sah, I doan adzackly remember, sah; but 
 I specks it s about lemme see one, two 
 
 "Well, never mind ; here s a dollar for you. I 
 want you to look sharp after some parcels I m 
 going to have sent home to-day." 
 
 "Yes. sah ; you kin pend on me, sah. Mornin 
 sah." 
 
 As Philip was leaving the house he \vas met by 
 a telegraph messenger who had just alighted from 
 his auto-cycle. 
 
 "Telegram for you, sir," said the boy, who knew 
 Craig by sight. "It was given me as rush/ and I 
 just hustled up here with it, you bet." 
 
 "Right, my boy. And here s something to 
 encourage you." 
 
 Still in his happy frame of mind Philip opened 
 the envelope absently. One glance at the signa 
 ture of the dispatch quickened him into apprehen 
 sive interest. Then he read : 
 
 "Come to the office at once, dropping all other 
 matters. J. P. Norton." 
 
 141
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 He crunched the bit of paper in his fist, and 
 turned back toward his apartments. 
 
 "So it s come," he muttered, "and to-day of all 
 days " He pulled his newspaper from his pocket 
 nnd hurriedly searched for the shipping depart 
 ment. 
 
 "Yes, here it is," he said aloud, to the wonder 
 ment of his friend, the elevator boy, "at noon, 
 3Oth, the Webster for Liverpool and the Sachem 
 for Bremen. I wonder which it will be." 
 
 He had taken Norton s previous instructions so 
 closely to heart that it was but the matter of a 
 few minutes to lock his luggage, close his apart 
 ment and proceed down town in perfect readiness 
 for a trip to Europe or the remotest antipodes. 
 
 Yesterday he might have been glad of the sum 
 mons; to-day he was disposed to rebel at fate. 
 Yesterday he loved; to-day he loved and was 
 loved again a difference so vast as to make of 
 him a constructive mutineer against his chief. 
 But the folly of any thought of disobedience 
 against John Norton, her father, \vas borne in 
 upon him with such force that he almost laughed 
 aloud. Then came a ray of hope, quickly fading, 
 however. 
 
 "I will tell him all," he thought, "and perhaps 
 but no. With him business is above everything 
 else. What right have hearts to get tangled up 
 in his affairs? Still, I shall tell him, and ask him 
 to explain to Helen. It is useless to try to see her 
 before I go." 
 
 At the office he was met by a clerk who told him 
 that Norton wished to be notified immediately 
 upon his arrival. The man disappeared, and 
 returned a moment later. 
 
 142
 
 A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 
 
 "Mr. Norton will see you in about fifteen min 
 utes," he said, "he is engaged with his stenog 
 rapher just now." 
 
 Philip literally passed a very bad quarter of an 
 hour at his own desk. The time dragged dismally, 
 and his love-thoughts were tinged with a melan 
 choly he could not shake off. He wondered what 
 Helen would say when she heard the news, and 
 whether she would not blame him for going, even 
 at her father s command, without a word of fare 
 well. Then he smiled at his own stupidity. He 
 w r ould write, of course. 
 
 He penned a brief and fervent note of love and 
 regret. He could say little, for what assurance 
 had he to give, who knew nothing of his under 
 taking or its duration? Bitter doubts, fitted to his 
 mood, assailed him. Who could tell but that 
 yesterday s yielding was but the fruit of the day 
 and the place? Might not separation dull the 
 keenness of affection on Helen s part, and give 
 opportunity to other suitors? She would not be 
 to blame, he told himself, for young love demands 
 its daily food, though it be nothing more substan 
 tial than ambrosia. Then came the natural 
 reaction to better thoughts, and he saw again the 
 light of happy confidence in those blue eyes; were 
 they not radiant with steadfast promise? 
 
 The incisive voice of the head clerk broke in 
 upon his musings. It seemed to him that the tone 
 had something more of deference than usual. 
 
 "Mr. Norton asks if you will come to him at 
 once, if you please, Mr. Craig. And, by the way, 
 might I be allowed to offer my congratulations?" 
 
 "Why why of course; thank you," mumbled 
 Craig rather incoherently. 
 
 143
 
 O.V SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Well, well," muttered the clerk, as Philip 
 crossed to the door of the private office, "I never 
 saw him unnerved before. But who could wonder 
 such responsibility." 
 
 The head of the house greeted him with a smile, 
 but waved him into silence as he dismissed his 
 stenographer. 
 
 "It will have to be short stories, Philip," he 
 said. "Pardon my abruptness, but I must do all 
 the talking. Now that we are alone, let me talk 
 freely. Here are your instructions." 
 
 He took from his desk several large, heavy linen 
 envelopes which seemed on the point of bursting 
 with papers. Philip started to speak. 
 
 "No, not a word, please," continued his chief. 
 "There are less than two hours, and much must be 
 done before the steamer sails. Philip " and a 
 strangely gentle tone altered his voice "Philip, I 
 think it is due you that I should tell you what led 
 me to pick you from the ruck of your associates 
 and advance you as I have done. You will under 
 stand me better then, and we will work better 
 together." 
 
 Philip marveled once more at the manner of 
 man he saw before him, a man who could plead 
 poverty of time, and yet begin a personal explana 
 tion of the most intimate sort. But the friendly 
 tone also filled him with delight, for now it seemed 
 as if he might indeed break down the embargo of 
 silence and tell of his love for Helen. 
 
 "I was first attracted to you," went on the 
 steady, kindly voice, "by your faithful perfor 
 mance of your humble duties as a paper carrier. 
 After you entered my employ you pleased me in 
 many ways. You never gossiped. I told you 
 
 144
 
 A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 
 
 things that many another boy would have been 
 quick to retail to his fellows to gain a fictitious 
 value by his superior knowledge. In higher 
 places you were just as reticent. You did what 
 you were told in the way you were told, if you 
 could; if not, in some other way. You didn t 
 trouble me with inquiries and requests for new in 
 structions. You had initiative and ideas of your 
 own. Your ability but any man could see you 
 had that. In the past year, with added responsi 
 bilities, you have always proved equal to any 
 emergency. In a word, you have come nearer to 
 doing things as I myself would do them than any 
 one ever associated with me." 
 
 In the moment s pause that ensued Philip s 
 natural embarrassment rose to his face. But the 
 eulogy was not yet completed. 
 
 "When I decided that the trip abroad was neces 
 sary, I knew that no man but you, except myself, 
 could be entrusted with it. You will realize this 
 when you read those instructions." 
 
 The young man looked vaguely at the en 
 velopes, which suddenly seemed to be a leaden 
 weight in his hands. 
 
 "Philip," said his employer with intense serious 
 ness, "I never inquired about your early life and 
 family, and did not care to know. I take men as 
 they are, and not as their parents were. I feel that 
 in you come in." 
 
 This last was in answer to a knock on the door, 
 and the head clerk entered. 
 
 "The auto-car is at the door, sir," he said, "and 
 it is now half-past ten." 
 
 "Thank you," returned the chief. "Now good- 
 by, Philip. Read your instructions; I know you 
 
 H5
 
 will not follow them slavishly. For many reasons 
 I regret that I must take this journey, instead of 
 you, but it had to be." 
 
 Had a mine exploded under his feet Philip 
 would have felt less startled and dazed. When 
 the fiery intensity of the words, had burned their 
 meaning into his intelligence, a great flood of joy 
 came too. He was to remain at home, home 
 where dwelt the woman of his heart. But now 
 there was more need than ever that he should 
 speak. Norton was already departing. 
 
 "Mr. Norton," he cried, "I 
 
 "I cannot delay another minute," replied the 
 financier, "if in doubt, use the cable. Good luck." 
 
 The elder grasped the younger man warmly by 
 the hand, and looked him straight in the face. 
 
 "If I had been given a son, Philip," he said "I 
 should have wished him to be like you. Good-by, 
 and God bless you." 
 
 An instant later and the magnate was gone. 
 When Philip had collected his scattered wits suf 
 ficiently to rush to the window, he saw the auto 
 car turning a distant corner. A wild desire to give 
 chase immediately came over him, followed by the 
 conviction that if he were to lay in wait at the 
 steamer there would be no time there for explana 
 tions. No, the fates had meant him to be happy 
 this day and for many days ; he would not dispute 
 their will. 
 
 Mechanically he turned over the letters which he 
 still held in his hand. The uppermost was a thin 
 envelope addressed to him. He opened it, took 
 out the single sheet of letter paper and read, after 
 the formal address : 
 
 146
 
 A BOLT FROM THE BLUE 
 
 "Dear Mr. Craig: 
 
 "On and after this date you will be gen 
 eral executive manager of the John P. Norton 
 Company, and will transact all business as I would 
 do were I on the scene. Herewith is power of at 
 torney. Information of your new position and 
 authority has been conveyed to all concerned. 
 "Very truly yours, 
 
 "John P. Norton." 
 
 This, then, was the new trust, this the underly 
 ing motive of Norton s strange words. He 
 realized the enormous change in his fortunes, but 
 he felt that he had arrived at a mental impasse, a 
 point at which he must stop and think, must get 
 into the open and see the sunshine. Mechanically 
 he picked up the letter he had written a half hour 
 before and looked at the superscription. 
 
 "Helen," he murmured, and never had the name 
 been so sweet on his lips, "you are the first to 
 whom I shall tell the news." 
 
 And within a few minutes he was speeding 
 toward the statelv home of the Nortons. 
 
 147
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN. 
 
 THE rapid ride served to clear Philip s mental 
 murkiness in a great degree, as the swift in 
 rush of a stream of water might cleanse a 
 woodland pool. The further he got from the 
 scene of his recent perturbation, the clearer be 
 came his perspective and he saw himself at last in 
 his true relation with the rest of the world, to 
 Helen especially. 
 
 So his projected dash to the house of his lady 
 love began to assume too much the savor of 
 mediaeval chivalry. This descent upon her at 
 high noon was something that even the impetu 
 osity of love did not demand. To strengthen the 
 conviction came the recollection that this was one 
 of Helen s days for investigating prospective cases 
 for Bentley-on-Hudson ; she would probably have 
 left home already. What to do, then? He could 
 not go back to the office ; the very thought seemed 
 stifling. 
 
 He dismissed his driver, and getting out, strode 
 along through the magnificent concentric ring of 
 estates surrounding John Norton s castle. For 
 miles he walked, paying little heed to the artificial 
 beauty of the resort of wealth, knowing only that 
 the sun was shining brightly and that the wind was 
 breathing warm fragrance into his nostrils. On 
 and on he went, until weariness began to make 
 
 148
 
 THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN 
 
 itself felt, and he suddenly remembered that he 
 had had no breakfast. 
 
 Ten minutes later he was at one of Christoforo s 
 faultless tables, and just beginning the disposal of 
 his soup, when he heard a familiar voice. 
 
 "Hello, Craig; you here?" 
 
 It was scarcely necessary for him to look up to 
 know that Andrew Haven was standing by his 
 side, timid, apologetic and apparently ill at ease, 
 as ever. He would have preferred almost any 
 other company, but there was no escape. 
 
 "I I m not intruding, if I sit with you?" ven 
 tured the little man. 
 
 "Oh, no." 
 
 Haven slowly sank into his chair, then wiped 
 his lips nervously with a napkin. He fixed his 
 gaze on Craig through his large, round spectacles, 
 till the younger man wondered if he had not some 
 special sort of vision that could penetrate the se 
 crets of the mind. When he found his look re 
 turned, Haven flushed and pretended to drink 
 some water. 
 
 "I m glad to meet you, Craig," he said in his 
 plaintive fashion, "I want to congratulate you. 
 No offense, I hope." 
 
 "On what, Mr. Haven?" 
 
 A look of amused incredulity came into the oth 
 er s little eyes. He even laughed decorously. 
 
 "Upon what? Dear me beg pardon, I m rude, 
 perhaps but really it was funny to hear you ask 
 why you were to be congratulated. Your discre 
 tion is most commendable, but the news of your 
 advancement was the talk of the Street this morn 
 ing 1 . It was officially announced by the exchange 
 
 149
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 at noon, together with the fact that Norton had 
 gone to Europe." 
 
 For the first time Philip fully realized the mag 
 nitude of fortune s loan to him he would not con 
 sider it a gift, since he had not yet perfected his 
 title by achievement. But that his name should 
 be officially coupled with that of John P. Norton 
 in the greatest money mart of the world was a stu 
 pendous thing. It threw about him the protecting 
 regis of millions and made of him a man whose 
 power and influence might be beyond computing. 
 Meantime Haven was dribbling on. 
 
 "I knew it before, of course, if you will allow me 
 to say so. Norton has few secrets from me or, 
 at least, so I imagine. He told me yesterday. 
 And what a prodigious salary !" 
 
 "Indeed." 
 
 "You don t think so? You amaze me." 
 
 "I didn t say so. In fact, I have no idea what it 
 is. You really must excuse me, Mr. Haven, for I 
 have a train to catch." 
 
 He called for his bill, paid it and strode out, 
 leaving Haven muttering apologies and trying to 
 catalogue this strange young man in the archives 
 of his active brain. 
 
 In one brief moment Philip decided where his 
 first duty lay. He would go to the Norton house 
 after all, but to see Helen s mother, tell her of his 
 love for her daughter and abide by her advice. 
 To tell the truth, he had little dread of making her 
 his confidant, for he knew her sweet kindliness of 
 disposition and her old-fashioned ideas on love 
 and marriage. 
 
 Mrs. Norton was at home and received him with 
 her gentle cordiality.
 
 THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN 
 
 "Pray consider me quite at your disposal, Mr. 
 Craig," she said in reply to his request for a few 
 moment s conversation of a personal nature. "We 
 shall expect to see more of you, now that Mr. 
 Norton has gone away and left his business in 
 your charge." 
 
 She knew, then, thought Philip. But why 
 should she not? 
 
 "I should have thought that you would accom 
 pany him," he said, still dealing in the common 
 places. He was not quite ready for the real 
 plunge. 
 
 "Oh, dear, no," she replied, "the great lakes 
 are as near as I have been to a sea voyage. Once 
 was enough. I say with Herbert, Praise the sea, 
 but keep on the land. The ocean is almost the 
 only thing that has power to part me from my 
 husband. Besides, Helen needed me." 
 
 The mention of the dear name was enough. 
 Without more ado he opened the door of his heart 
 and let his hopes and desires come trooping out. 
 He told his story in simple and honest fashion 
 which he feared was blundering enough, but which 
 the sympathetic woman found manly and convinc 
 ing. But alas for the secrets of lovers; how thin 
 and futile the disguise he immediately found out. 
 
 "I will confess, Mr. Craig," she said with an 
 indulgent smile, "that I have had some notion of 
 this. No, Helen has said nothing, but there are 
 signs, you know, to such acute observers as 
 mothers. You say you could not speak to Mr. 
 Norton ?" 
 
 Craig nodded assent. 
 
 "Perhaps it is just as well. I know that he re 
 gards you highly: you have already had proof of
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 that. In any event, if you love Helen, and she 
 you, I cannot think that John Norton would do 
 anything different from what I do: wish you as 
 happy a life together as he and I have had." 
 
 She held out both her hands to him with a most 
 charming air of welcome. Obeying a sudden im 
 pulse, he stooped and kissed her on the forehead. 
 Her eyes met his with a merry twinkle. 
 
 "Will you do that when I am your mother-in- 
 law?" she asked. 
 
 He protested fervently that thus it would ever 
 be, but she held up a warning finger. 
 
 "Be careful. Don t promise too much. You 
 may regret it. But it is not an old woman you 
 came to see. Had I not better send for Helen? 
 She has just returned from her mercy-trip, as I call 
 it." 
 
 The rest of the afternoon and dinner, at which 
 he was the guest of honor, passed in the miracu 
 lously rapid fashion of happy hours. For the first 
 time in all his life Philip opened the gates of his 
 reserve, and talked of himself, of his boyish dreams 
 and struggles, of his sacrifices for an education, 
 of his final foothold on a career and of his ambi 
 tions for the days to come. If he was eloquent 
 in the recital, what wonder when a pair of dewy 
 eyes matched struggle with sympathy and victory 
 with triumphant approval. And the moment of 
 parting when Mrs. Norton generously betook her 
 self away the kiss the hand-pressure ! All these 
 things seemed to Craig the beautiful and fitting 
 close of a day of wonder. 
 
 The next morning he was at his desk early, 
 ready to grapple with the great duties before him. 
 He began by opening the envelopes containing his 
 
 152
 
 THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN 
 
 instructions in order to familiarize himself with 
 the general plan of campaign, and found type 
 written memoranda of the status of certain trans 
 actions. These he did not read in full, preferring 
 to deal with each matter as it should come before 
 him from the man having it in special charge; 
 this was Norton s invariable method. One folded 
 sheet inscribed "Pneumatic Engine Mill, Andrew 
 Haven," he did not even open. 
 
 A sheet backed "Office details" appeared more 
 urgent, and he read it carefully. It advised one 
 or two changes in the allotment of work, if Craig, 
 on investigation, should deem them advisable. 
 The closing paragraph was as follows : 
 
 "The salary of Philip Craig, executive 
 manager of the John P. Norton Com 
 pany, shall be $100,000 per annum, and 
 said Craig shall transfer monthly to his 
 personal account one per cent, of all 
 profits accruing to the concern." 
 
 The piece of paper fell from his hand and flut 
 tered to the floor. 
 
 "This, then, was what Haven meant," he mut 
 tered. "It is almost beyond belief. . . . Come, 
 come, Philip, old chap, he evidently thought you 
 were worth it. Brace up, and try to earn some of 
 it, at any rate." 
 
 After this there was no more hesitation or weak 
 ness. Craig felt again the thrilling tide of battle 
 and he went at the business of the day with a 
 quickness of decision and a firmness of grasp that 
 gave the gossips food for digestion, and sent a ru 
 mor into the "Street" that it wouldn t be safe to 
 
 153
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 try any games with "John Peter s" interests even 
 if that financial scourge was away. 
 
 One of Philip s callers was a short, stout man, 
 who might have been anything from a parson to 
 a butcher so far as personal appearance went. 
 
 "I am Smithson, sir," the man announced. "Mr. 
 Norton told me that in his absence I was to report 
 to you." 
 
 "Very well, sir. What is the nature of your re 
 port. What is it about?" 
 
 "About Count Sandstrom, sir." 
 
 "Sandstrom? Please explain. I ve not had 
 time to look into all these matters." And he se 
 lected a sheet endorsed "Sandstrom," and ran his 
 eye over it. 
 
 "I am engaged to keep an eye on him and see 
 that he doesn t leave the country," murmured the 
 stout man. 
 
 "Ah, a detective, I presume." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "And if he does leave?" 
 
 "I am to report to you at once." 
 
 "I see. I understand the situation by this pa 
 per. Well, what have you to say?" 
 
 "He has no intention of going right away, for he 
 has given out invitations for a lawn party August 
 3oth." 
 
 "But couldn t that be what you detectives, I be 
 lieve, call a blind? 
 
 "It might be, sir." 
 
 "Well, keep on watch. Report to me weekly by 
 wire. If anything new occurs, come at once. 
 Good morning." 
 
 "A sharp customer. He ll stand no fooling," 
 thought Smithson, as he bowed himself out. 
 
 154
 
 THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN 
 
 "M m," mused Philip, as he again read the Sand- 
 strom document, "so it was to investigate the 
 Count s connections and the methods and alliances 
 of his house that I was to have gone abroad, and 
 it is for this that Norton has gone. Something of 
 magnitude is in prospect, and Mr. Norton feels 
 that he must make sure of his ground." 
 
 Not long after Haven put in an appearance. 
 He professed himself as delighted to be privileged 
 to do business with Mr. Craig, but Mr. Craig was 
 not particularly impressed by this display of grat 
 itude. In fact, he cut him short. 
 
 "Well, then, we had best proceed at once to the 
 business." 
 
 Haven s face wore an injured look, but he went 
 on without comment. 
 
 "It s about the Pneumatic Engine Mills. You 
 have some of my reports in your hand, I see, and 
 are doubtless familiar with the case. The works 
 are nearly completed, but ground cannot be 
 broken for the designing-room until we have the 
 rest of the land. . . . What s the matter, Mr. 
 Craig? Are you ill?" 
 
 His sharp little eyes, that never missed a detail 
 in another man s countenance, had noted that 
 Philip turned pale while reading one of the docu 
 ments. 
 
 "It is nothing. Go on," said the executive 
 manager. 
 
 "Well, this one man has refused every offer we 
 have made through Holloway. Yesterday we 
 tried threats, but Holloway says he knows the law, 
 and that a more stubborn mule never existed. 
 Mr. Norton s instructions were to buy, if money 
 
 155
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 would do it, but if Craig remained obstinate by 
 the by, curious coincidence of names, isn t it?" 
 
 "It is. Proceed." 
 
 "If Craig remained obstinate we were to resort 
 to the last extremity." 
 
 "And that is?" queried Philip, striving to the 
 utmost to mask his emotions before this cunning 
 schemer. 
 
 "We have bonded a strip of land 125 feet wide 
 leading from opposite his cottage to the state 
 highway. We own enough beyond the site of our 
 works to make a boulevard from the highway to 
 the water. Craig s land, you see, will be right in 
 the way. Sad, isn t it?" 
 
 "Go on Avith your report," said Philip, sternly. 
 
 "Now, then, the plan is to give the land to the 
 state. If Craig still refuses to sell, his property 
 could be seized under the right of eminent do 
 main." 
 
 "Can this be done?" 
 
 "The proper state officials have given us their 
 assurances that it will be." 
 
 "At a price, I presume." 
 
 "Well, not exactly that, but we do hold out 
 certain reciprocal advantages." 
 
 Philip rapidly wrote some figures on a bit of 
 paper. 
 
 "I see that this will cost about $420,000," said 
 he, not including the reciprocal advantages to the 
 state officials. What do we get in return?" 
 
 "Craig s land." 
 
 "Which is worth?" 
 
 "Five thousand dollars, more or less." 
 
 "Then we lose" 
 
 "It is not a question of loss, sir. It has gone 
 156
 
 THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN 
 
 beyond that. John Norton is not accustomed to 
 being thwarted, and he " 
 
 "Prefers losing money to losing his own way?" 
 
 "Precisely, Mr. Craig." 
 
 "Well, we will let the matter rest." 
 
 "But Mr. Norton" 
 
 "Is not here. Till he returns I am in authority. 
 You wall take no further steps in the matter. 
 Good morning, Mr. Haven." 
 
 The little man left the office feeling that his 
 opportunities for service to the house of Norton 
 would be very seriously crippled by the presence 
 in power of this keen and conscientious deputy. 
 He bitterly resented the peremptory tone of 
 Craig s instructions and vowed that he would not 
 forgive the injury until its memory was blotted 
 out by some greater harm in return. For there 
 was a bit of the Indian in Haven, as well as con 
 siderable of the reptile. 
 
 157
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A COMMERCIAL TRAGEDY. 
 
 ONE goal stood forth before Philip Craig s 
 mind during all the remainder of the busi 
 ness day his father s house. As soon, 
 therefore, as he could lift his hand from the lever 
 he made his way to the region of grime and noise 
 where the cottage still stood in mute defiance of 
 its enemies. No signs of life were to be seen. 
 
 Philip raised the ancient brass knocker again 
 and again without arousing anything more tangi 
 ble than dismal echoes. He was on the point of 
 descending the steps when he heard the soft 
 shuffling of feet within and saw the door cau 
 tiously opened a mere crack ; across the dark slit 
 of space he noted the links of a strong chain. 
 
 "Who s there? What s wanted?" came forth 
 the querulous voice of an old woman, Angus 
 Craig s deaf day-servant. 
 
 "It s I Philip Craig." 
 
 "Well, he ain t at home," piped the dame, pre 
 paring to draw the chain closer. 
 
 "I am Philip Philip Craig Philip," shouted 
 the young man. 
 
 The chain rattled down and the door swung 
 open. 
 
 "Oh, Master Philip, is it? You ll have to par 
 don me, sir, but Mr. Craig gave me strict orders 
 not to let a living soul I didn t know into the 
 
 158
 
 A COMMERCIAL TRAGEDY 
 
 house, nor take in any messages nor papers of any 
 sort. Why, I even make the grocer s boy leave 
 his provisions on the doorstep." 
 
 Philip laughed heartily. "Dad s in a regular 
 state of siege," he exclaimed. "Well, he ll soon 
 be out of fear." 
 
 He went into the quaint little sitting room, 
 comfortable enough, despite its angularities and 
 oddities of furnishings. He noted that his 
 mother s favorite rocker had been brought down 
 stairs, and that a faded photograph of her, framed 
 in beautifully carved ebony, was hanging over the 
 fireplace. In a pot on the red-covered table was 
 growing a slip from a rose-bush Philip could 
 guess its origin and its purpose. 
 
 "Poor old fellow," he thought, "he is growing 
 that slip from my mother s rose-bush, so that, in 
 case the worst comes, he can carry it away with 
 him." 
 
 As he sat there in the twilight he began to 
 understand and appreciate his father s love for the 
 place and his fierce determination not to leave it. 
 After all, it was home, the spot of the hearthstone, 
 the haven of refuge from the stress of life. He felt 
 his own lack of just such influences, now so soon 
 to be supplied him, and his heart warmed to his 
 father even as it glowed with love for Helen. 
 
 Angus return was not long delayed. He was 
 in one of his most ungracious moods, and returned 
 his son s greeting gruffly. 
 
 "Weel, Philip, I didna expect ye wad veesit me 
 sae soon. How could ye leave ye er fine friends?" 
 
 "Come now, father," returned Philip, kindly, 
 "you know I d be here a great deal more if I be 
 lieved my visits were pleasing to you." 
 
 159
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Imph." 
 
 "And as for my fine friends, they certainly have 
 no influence in preventing me from doing my 
 duty." 
 
 "Imph. . . . Weel, what is t ye want, lad? I 
 canna talk lang wi ye the nicht. Some friends o 
 mine, who are nae friends o yours, are coomin on 
 important business. Besides, I m a bit fashed the 
 day." 
 
 The old man dropped wearily into a chair, and 
 pressed his hands to his eyes. In truth, he seemed 
 like one who had been buffeted by fate until the 
 spirit had gone from him. 
 
 "What s the trouble?" asked the son. 
 
 "Naething that should bother me, I dare say; 
 a plate is missing again." 
 
 Philip knew what that meant. Once before his 
 father had spent several wretched days over the 
 disappearance of a bank-note plate from the estab 
 lishment where he worked. Even though there 
 was no question of his integrity, he knew that in 
 such a case suspicion must hover over good and 
 bad alike. That plate had been found under some 
 rubbish in the yard; whether it had been carried 
 there by accident or hidden by intending forgers 
 was never known. 
 
 "Probably it will turn up like the other one," 
 suggested Philip. 
 
 "Verra like, verra like. But it s terrible tae be 
 spied upon and treated like a thief when ye ve 
 done nae wrang. Money s nae the root o evil, 
 Philip, it s evil s verra self. I sometimes think I 
 do the deil s work when I scrape a tool into a 
 note-plate. But a body maun live." 
 
 Philip could scarce repress a smile. To hear 
 1 60
 
 A COMMERCIAL TRAGEDY 
 
 this man, accounted one of the finest engravers of 
 the country, revile the profession he loved was 
 little short of ludicrous. But he was sympathetic, 
 and presently the talk drifted to other things. 
 
 "Ye see I m still here, lad," at last said Angus, 
 with a gleam of triumph in his faded eyes. 
 "They ve nae turned the auld mon oot yet." 
 
 "No, father, and that s what I ve come to see 
 you about." 
 
 The old man s wrath flamed up from its bed of 
 suspicion in an instant. He saw in his own son 
 an embodiment of the rapacity and relentlessness 
 of the money power. He did not hold the young 
 man to blame, especially, regarding him rather as 
 a helpless creature of environment. His hatred 
 was for the system. 
 
 "Ye ll be tellin me that ye ve joined wi these 
 deils and made common cause wi em tae drive 
 me oot," he sputtered. 
 
 Philip grew angry in turn. 
 
 "Father I- 
 
 "Weel, weel, I mean nae harm," said Angus, in 
 a more conciliatory tone. 
 
 "I came to tell you," resumed the son, "that 
 you need have no fear. I have the best of reasons 
 for saying that you can keep this house as long as 
 I choose." 
 
 "Keep it?" cried Angus, excitedly, "of coorse 
 I can. I kenned that lang ago. They ll need some 
 Satan s trick tae get me oot, an I m as canny as 
 they are." 
 
 It was impossible for Philip to explain the situa 
 tion, for he knew that his father would forever 
 hold him as an accomplice with his enemies, no 
 
 161
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 matter what his version. He said no more on the 
 subject, and soon after took his leave. 
 
 "Gude nicht, Philip," was his father s parting 
 shot. "When ye tire o ye er frien s in Mammon, 
 coom back tae us again." 
 
 Next day the full tide of promoters, schemers, 
 inventors, beggars, financial giants and commer 
 cial pygmies swept in upon Craig and tested his 
 powers of discernment to the utmost. He had 
 given orders that practically all the men who 
 called should be admitted to his presence ; for one 
 day, at least, he wanted to receive his impressions 
 of this part of his work at first hand. Afterward 
 he would rely on the filtration of office-boys, 
 clerks, and private secretary. 
 
 Philip pricked many a bubble during the day, 
 exposed the worthlessness of many a loud-sound 
 ing scheme and shunted off once and for all the 
 importunities of professional charity manipulators. 
 He also made some valuable alliances and began 
 plans of immense advantage to his house. He sat 
 at his desk cool and imperturbable, with some 
 thing of Norton s sang-froid, yet with a mellower 
 humanity to temper it and a more genial sense of 
 humor to cheer himself. He took his work seri 
 ously, to be sure, but not morbidly so. In short, 
 he was an able regent on the Norton throne, and 
 he impressed everyone, and, through everyone, the 
 "Street," with the sense that a keen, hard-headed, 
 far-seeing young man was in power. 
 
 He went to luncheon at a famous restaurant 
 much affected by brokers and financiers. Here 
 was a severer test, for he knew that men nudged 
 one another and followed him with keenly critical 
 or envious eyes as he walked through the throng 
 
 162
 
 A COMMERCIAL TRAGEDY 
 
 to his table, the place always reserved for John 
 Norton. It is easy to be unperturbed; to appear 
 so, however, is another matter. The heart may be 
 of iron, while the face is of plastic putty impressed 
 by emotions scarcely more than skin deep. 
 
 But on the whole the young man received his 
 many congratulations in the right spirit and made 
 friends by his good common-sense and likable 
 ways. 
 
 Just after luncheon a card bearing the legend 
 "Mr. Hastings" was brought in to him. 
 
 "What Hastings?" he asked the bearer. 
 
 "He was a clerk here, sir, but for some months 
 he has been doing outside work, I believe." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I remember. Show him in." 
 
 Hastings was a large, florid man, with immense 
 side-whiskers and a bald head as red as the shell of 
 a boiled lobster. He \vas in a state of much ex 
 citement, it seemed, for he continually mopped his 
 forehead with a large handkerchief. 
 
 "Take a chair, Mr. Hastings," said Philip. 
 "You are evidently, may 1 say troubled?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, I am troubled. I didn t learn of Mr. 
 Norton s absence until to-day, and it was to him 
 I was to make my report." 
 
 "Let s see, it was about a hay and grain firm, 
 wasn t it?" 
 
 "Yes, the Jamesons." 
 
 "You were to force them to enter the Norton- 
 Davies syndicate, I believe." 
 
 "Yes, sir; that s it." 
 
 "Well, in Mr. Norton s absence I am Mr. Nor 
 ton. You can report to me freely. Have you 
 succeeded?" 
 
 Great beads of perspiration stood on Hastings 
 163
 
 rosy forehead, and he stammered as he replied: 
 
 "Succeeded? W-well, I think I m-may say so." 
 
 Philip looked at the man with impatient curi 
 osity. Was this shaken, nervous fellow the sort 
 of agent John Norton was willing to employ. He 
 wondered what sort of reception the chief himself 
 would give him. 
 
 "Well, that must be satisfactory to you," he 
 said. "It has been a long struggle; how did it 
 end?" 
 
 "Oliver Jameson shot himself last night, and his 
 firm was declared insolvent this morning." 
 
 Philip felt as if someone had dealt him a swift, 
 stinging blow on the head, and for a moment his 
 senses did not grasp the full meaning of the an 
 nouncement. Then in the clearing mist he saw 
 the dead body of the wretched man slain by the 
 inexorable demands of a commercial tragedy. He 
 could realize how the two brothers, grown old in 
 the conduct of their business and proud of their 
 independence, had struggled on against the resist 
 less force of combined capital, until, at last, with 
 ruin knocking at their gates, one of them, in the 
 insanity of despair, had turned his hand against 
 himself. It was pitiful, and so pitifully needless. 
 
 Hastings story of the details was brief and he 
 was dismissed to complete the affairs of the enter 
 prise and to take a brief vacation before he should 
 return to his regular duties. As he was about to 
 depart Philip said : 
 
 "Let me see, Mr. Hastings, were you not to 
 receive a bonus for this work ?" 
 
 "Indeed, sir, I couldn t take a cent of it not a 
 cent," he said with something like a shudder. "It 
 
 164
 
 A COMMERCIAL TRAGEDY 
 
 would be like blood-money. Besides, the time for 
 the bonus has expired." 
 
 "Very well, sir," returned Philip, with a growing 
 respect for the man. "You may report for duty in 
 the office in three weeks." 
 
 Craig pondered long over the tragedy of the 
 Jamesons, and at last his course seemed clear. 
 He wrote a brief anonymous letter of sympathy to 
 John Jameson and enclosed in it a cashier s check 
 for a large sum obtained from a neighboring bank 
 in exchange for a personal check drawn by Philip 
 himself. 
 
 "The enclosed check," said the closing words of 
 the note, "is sent by one who appreciates a brave 
 struggle against a great wrong. It cannot recall 
 the dead, but it can rehabilitate the firm he loved 
 into what men call business honor. Do not 
 refuse to employ this money, for he who sends it 
 has no sympathy with a code of business ethics 
 that permits of brutal coercion." 
 
 This was despatched by a trusted messenger 
 with instructions to leave it at the Jameson house 
 without comment. 
 
 But even the sense of duty performed did not 
 lift the burden from Philip s mind, as he had 
 hoped. Strive as he might he could not rid him 
 self of the picture of that desolated home and the 
 man who was mourning over a brother and a dis 
 graced firm. 
 
 The similarity of the methods employed against 
 the Jamesons and his father came strongly to his 
 thoughts. He had felt no compunction about 
 stopping the proceedings against Angus, and in 
 the present instance he was sure that John Norton 
 would deeplv regret the issue. But whether or 
 
 65
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 no, of one thing he was firmly convinced: that 
 such dealings were indefensible by any standard 
 of morality. 
 
 The trouble was, he reasoned, that men who 
 engage in these business schemes do not realize 
 the end. They think merely of their own advan 
 tages and not of the results to others. They are 
 like gamblers whose passion for the stakes of the 
 game blinds them to the realization of what loss 
 means to their adversaries. It was even worse in 
 the case of the Jamesons, for they had found the 
 contest forced upon them, and had staked their all 
 through the sheer necessity of surviving. 
 
 The impression made upon him by the tragedy 
 was neither temporary nor sentimental. It had 
 immense practical bearing upon certain half-fin 
 ished schemes that were presented to him within 
 the next two or three days by men designated by 
 Norton long before his departure for Europe. 
 Many of these seemed to Philip to have but one 
 legitimate conclusion : the ruin of men and firms 
 against which they were directed. These he 
 crushed with relentless hand, either by modifying 
 the plans or ordering their complete abandon 
 ment. 
 
 Nor did he feel that he was in the least unfaith 
 ful to his trust, for from what he had experienced 
 of John Norton s kindness of heart to himself and 
 others, he was assured that the truth need only to 
 be presented clearly to make his chief see things 
 as he saw them. 
 
 1 66
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AT THE VAN RENSSALAER LOW S. 
 
 THE weeks flew by for Philip Craig, and life 
 seemed a very cheerful and pleasant thing 
 indeed. His duties were many and often 
 difficult, but he caught their swing admirably, and, 
 like a sensible young man, felt great satisfaction in 
 the sense of power. He saw Helen often, and in 
 the delightful role of acknowledged lover. Alto 
 gether he counted this season the happiest of his 
 life. And it seemed likely to continue for some 
 time, for although he had received several cable 
 messages from Norton, there was nothing said of 
 the probable date of his return. 
 
 One morning in late August he was somewhat 
 surprised to receive from Mrs. Van Renssalaer 
 Cruger Low an elaborately engraved invitation to 
 a "Sherwood Forest Fete, to be Given in Behalf 
 of Bentley-on-Hudson, at Low Manor on the 
 Evening of September Two." 
 
 He turned the card over curiously and won 
 dered why he should have been chosen for social 
 honors by one of the proudest families in New 
 York. He had met Mr. Low, to be sure, at a 
 small dinner given by Mrs. Norton, and although 
 he had thought vaguely that the aristocrat had 
 liked him, he was not prepared for any further 
 manifestation on his part. 
 
 The fact of the matter was that Low, besides 
 167
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 being attracted by the young man, had recognized 
 him as a great potentiality in the finances of the 
 city. Then, too, as the regent of John Peter 
 Norton, he was a commanding figure and one well 
 worth cultivating. So he determined to invite 
 Philip to the forthcoming function, and asked his 
 wife to send him a card. 
 
 That lady demurred. "Who is this Mr. Craig?" 
 she asked, anxiously, "has he any family? I never 
 heard of them. 
 
 "You surprise me, my dear," was the reply. 
 "Very distinguished Scotch ancestry Craigs of 
 Loch Levin; castles, deer-parks and all that sort 
 of thing, you know," he said, with a smile behind 
 his newspaper. 
 
 "Oh, well, if that s the case, of course we must 
 have him." 
 
 And so it happened that Philip found himself 
 at Low Manor on the specified evening. He 
 rubbed his eyes at the strange sight presented as 
 he stepped from his carriage. The great lawn in 
 front of the Low mansion had entirely vanished, 
 and in its place was a thick forest of magnificent 
 oaks implanted during a night by some magician s 
 wand. A carpet of moss covered the whole ex 
 panse, and artificial glades, rocks, brooks and 
 cascades made a bewildering picture of sylvan 
 beauty. 
 
 All at once the significance of the "Sherwood 
 Forest Fete" came to Craig s mind. It was a re 
 production, at what enormous cost he could only 
 vaguely guess, of that romantic land of the woods 
 where Robin Hood and his jovial crew laid tribute 
 of the traveler; where Maid Marian loved and 
 Little John died; where Friar Tuck drank solidly 
 
 1 68
 
 AT THE VAN RENSSALAER LOW S 
 
 and cursed roundly the most enchanted country 
 that fancy has ever devised. 
 
 From within came the twinkle of lights, the 
 mellow winding of horns, the lusty music of glees, 
 ripples of laughter and the babel of human 
 tongues in rapid action. 
 
 Philip was immediately seized upon by an 
 archer in Lincoln green and a billy-cock hat, and 
 hurried away to be presented to the chief patron 
 ess of the occasion, who was holding court in a 
 tent of gorgeous material. All around were fasci 
 nating evidences of someone s artistic planning. 
 Deer flitted through the forests, pursued by bands 
 of Robin Hood s archers; milkmaids and yokels 
 wandered hand in hand; Richard Cceur de Leon 
 and the Jolly Priest were at a bout with quarter- 
 staves; all the famous heroes of the outlaw crew 
 were stalking abroad regardless of the Sheriff of 
 Nottingham and his minions. There were courts 
 for archery, games of bowls and contests at 
 wrestling. And into the mediaeval picture swept 
 the throng of men and women in evening dress, 
 indifferent to the anachronism and wondering, 
 many of them, how a decent supper could be pro 
 vided in such bizarre surroundings. 
 
 At the tent of honor, where he was received 
 most graciously, Philip found a group of men he 
 knew. Price, the editor, was there, giving Mrs. 
 Low patronizing assurance that the American 
 News would do justice ample justice, madam 
 to the quite unprecedented fete. Lord, the rail 
 road man, with his wife, a young and vapidly 
 pretty woman, with a restless ambition to enmesh 
 every social lion of repute, was talking the eternal 
 "shop" with Biddle Jaffrey. Ward Neilson, doing 
 
 169
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 cavalier duty to a dashing brunette, the only 
 daughter of Belmont Drexel, the banker, had 
 obtained possession of Deschapelles, now a noted 
 figure in the world, and the young woman was 
 chatting gaily with the Frenchman. Philip saw 
 also Wirislow and Davies in the little coterie, and 
 rejoiced that he, a hard-headed man of affairs, was 
 not entirely without appropriate compeers. These 
 men stood forth prominently from the crowd of 
 insipid and bored-looking individuals who strove 
 to uphold the prestige of that "societ^" that is 
 judeed bv the frivolous use of its millions. 
 
 The chattering small-talk of a social assembly, 
 like the popping of snapping-crackers, makes 
 much noise but little danger, although in both 
 cases the atmosphere may be rendered malodor 
 ous, and Craig s induction into such an exhibition 
 of verbal fireworks both amused and annoyed him. 
 
 Price was speaking in his most profoundly ora 
 torical style as Philip joined the group. It pleased 
 him to pose as a fearless critic of those whose hos 
 pitality lie shared, and that he was not debarred 
 from the functions of the elect was due only to fear 
 of the immense power he wielded by his paper. 
 
 "Society, my dear Mrs. Low," he said, loudly, 
 "is a maelstrom from which the plunger emerges, 
 if he emerge at all, dizzy and bruised from his 
 buffets with the waves of convention and his blows 
 upon the rocks of disappointment." 
 
 Having thus delivered himself, he looked about 
 him with the air of a modern Ajax defying the 
 social lightning. 
 
 "My dear fellow," observed the handsome Neil- 
 son, "I fear you magnify the importance of the 
 thing we hedge about with ceremonial and call 
 
 170
 
 AT THE VAN RENSSALAER LOW S 
 
 society. It is no maelstrom, but rather a foolish 
 little sea rippling in shallows over a not too odor 
 ous sandbar, which divides the wavelets in harm 
 less nothings to lap noiselessly upon the shores of 
 life. Those who are drowned in such a sea lie 
 there by their own free will." 
 
 The black eyes of Alice Drexel sparkled ap 
 proval. She was very much in love with this 
 plain-spoken, clever young fellow, and she espe 
 cially despised the editor of the American News. 
 She gloried in such a match of wits. 
 
 "Now you re talking in epigrams, Neilson," 
 sneered Price. 
 
 "Heaven forbid," ejaculated the young man. 
 The chief need of the average epigram is a dia 
 gram, and I cannot undertake to be a purveyor of 
 that sort of thing." 
 
 "But don t you think," drawled Mrs. Lord, 
 "that we find true happiness in developing the 
 social side of our lives?" 
 
 "Happiness, my dear Madam, is something that 
 most of us search for so busily that we have no 
 time to stop to realize that we have found it." 
 
 "Most of us," thought Alice Drexel, with a 
 little throb of joy at her heart. She knew that he 
 and she had found their time and their happiness. 
 Her passionate devotion was so plainly written 
 upon her face that Craig warmed toward her at 
 once ; here at least was one genuine creature, what 
 ever the rest might be. 
 
 At this point Price felt impelled to return to the 
 attack. 
 
 "You may be right, Mr. Neilson, in your gen 
 eral theory," he said, sententiously, "but you for- 
 
 171
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 get ambition, which takes the place of happiness, 
 and for which there is no cure." 
 
 "Ambition ? Yes, there is a cure. The specific 
 is failure, the physician Death," retorted Neilson, 
 grimly. 
 
 "Oh, this is positively dreadful," cried Mrs. 
 Lord, gaily. "Is it not time to call a halt? Let 
 us go and look about the forest." 
 
 As the party split up into smaller groups, Craig 
 found himself accompanied by Price. The astute 
 editor made it a practice to cultivate all new men 
 of prominence, to tap them, as it were, and test 
 the quality of their abilities. Here was the marked 
 figure of the day, to know whom might be of in 
 estimable advantage in the future. He deter 
 mined, therefore, to cling to Craig with more than 
 brotherly closeness for the time being. First he 
 would be agreeable, he thought. 
 
 "Queer coincidence happened in my business 
 to-day, Mr. Craig," he began affably. "My fea 
 ture editor told me a very interesting story of an 
 old man named Craig who is fighting the whole 
 combined power of the Pneumatic Engines Com 
 pany over in Brooklyn. The man owns a queer 
 little cottage on land the company wants, and he 
 won t sell or be evicted or anything else. There 
 he holds the fort while they are tearing everything 
 in ruins almost about his ears. It sounded so in 
 teresting that I ordered my man to get up a page 
 spread, illustrated, on the case. It will be an excel 
 lent chance for the News to show its devotion to 
 the people. Brave old Scot defies the money 
 power/ or something of the sort for a heading. 
 By the way, isn t Norton interested in the com 
 pany?" 
 
 172
 
 AT THE VAN RENSSALAER LOW S 
 
 "I believe so," replied Philip, shortly. 
 
 "That settles it, then. Old Craig will have to 
 go as sure as fate. You are acquainted with John 
 Norton s methods, I take it." 
 
 "Mr. Norton s methods are not a proper subject 
 for discussion, sir," returned Craig. "I am ac 
 quainted with the case you mention, however, 
 and I think I am justified in saying that no injus 
 tice will be done anyone." 
 
 Just before them the path broadened and there, 
 in a blaze of light, was a sight that gladdened 
 Philip s eyes and made him forget the great editor 
 and his insinuations. At one of the archery 
 booths was Helen, his pretty Helen, just in the act 
 of bending a bow, and Rev. Mr. Bentley, similarly 
 armed, was looking on with the greatest delight 
 writ on his fat little face. Twang went the string, 
 and the clergyman clapped his hands as the arrow 
 sped on into the very bull s-eye of the target. The 
 girl turned her radiant face to meet her mother s 
 eye, and so caught sight of Philip. And although 
 she was properly reserved and maidenly in her 
 greeting, the light in her glance told him that all 
 was well. This was the first time he had seen her 
 surrounded by her own set, and he had to confess 
 that the exigencies of social etiquette, making for 
 little bands of devotees and constant shifting of 
 groups of admirers, were not wholly to his liking. 
 
 Out of some depth of the forest came at last the 
 flaxen Count Sandstrom attended by Andrew 
 Haven. The nobleman had been the prey since 
 his appearance in Sherwood of designing mamas 
 and over-willing daughters, to all of whose atten 
 tions he had responded with only bored noliteness. 
 
 But Helen Norton, with her freedom from arti- 
 173
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 ficiality, her sunny simplicity and her fresh beauty, 
 interested Sandstrom. He made his devoirs so 
 gallantly and so wittily that Philip felt at once his 
 great superiority as a courtier and conceived a 
 quite unreasoning dislike of the man. Even Mr. 
 Bentley and Mrs. Norton, he noticed with chagrin, 
 seemed greatly entertained at the German s bril 
 liant flow of talk, and he himself lapsed into 
 moody silence. 
 
 But all these petty troubles, born of jealousy, he 
 confessed to himself with a pitying smile, were 
 quite put to flight when Helen, in answer to the 
 loud calls of criers sent through the woods, took 
 his arm to be led away to supper. And the gentle 
 pressure on his arm when they reached a particu 
 larly dark spot in the forest sent all thoughts of 
 Sandstrom and the rest flying into nothingness. 
 
 The supper was strictly in keeping with the 
 spirit of the place. It was served around open 
 fires at which Christoforo and his assistants had 
 been steaming and stewing and broiling and roast 
 ing sundry articles of food for several hours. 
 There were haunches of venison, great joints of 
 beef, noble boars heads, pasties of many sorts, 
 pheasants cooked in clay, sweetmeats of wondrous 
 construction all accomplished with the most 
 consummate art, and the general verdict was that 
 Mrs. Van Renssalaer Low had won a personal 
 triumph that years could not efface. 
 
 As Helen and her mother were about to leave, 
 Philip noted the approach of Count Sandstrom 
 quite as if by accident. With the most elaborate 
 courtesy he asked that he might escort the ladies 
 to their carriage. 
 
 "We thank you, Count Sandstrom," replied the
 
 AT THE VAN RENSSALAER LOW S 
 
 mother, sweetly, "but we are in charge of Mr. 
 Craig." And the German vanished as mysteri 
 ously as he had appeared. 
 
 But as he was smoking his ante-retiring cigar 
 ette that morning the Count said to his valet : 
 
 "Heinrich, make a memorandum to answer that 
 letter I received from John P. Norton some three 
 weeks ago, and say that on further consideration 
 I have decided to consider his proposition to join 
 him in that Homburg investment." 
 
 175
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A MATTER OF SENTIMENT. 
 
 SEPTEMBER was in its closing hours, more 
 rich and beautiful than was ever September 
 before, it seemed to Philip, when a cipher 
 message came from Norton. 
 
 "I sail to-morrow by Sachem," it said. "Do no 
 business with Sandstrom." 
 
 Craig was puzzled at this, for he knew by the 
 tenor of certain correspondence with the Count 
 that until recently Norton had had no dealings 
 with him. It was a curious coincidence that his 
 chief s orders on this point should arrive at almost 
 the identical time that negotiations were about to 
 begin. But there was no difficulty in obeying in 
 structions, for the deal in which Sandstrom had 
 expressed interest was of no special importance, 
 and could be stopped at any time, or at least de 
 ferred until Norton s return, by a polite note. 
 
 A few days later the mammoth liner was warped 
 into her dock seven hours late, nor had she been 
 reported by the aerophone for nearly seventy-two 
 hours. This was a remarkable incident, for ocean 
 travel had been reduced to such a systematically 
 accurate science that schedules rarely varied more 
 than half an hour except in case of severe storms. 
 
 Early as it was on this bright autumn morning, 
 the immense dock was crowded by men and 
 women of all sorts and conditions and brought 
 
 176
 
 A MATTER OF SENTIMENT 
 
 together by many motives. Rich and poor were 
 there to greet their own, whether in the conven 
 tionally correct garb of the first cabin or stream 
 ing in picturesque riot of color and variety of 
 raiment. The. curious and the criminal, the 
 haughty and the meek, the rich and the poor, were 
 for once hercled together into one primeval human 
 family. 
 
 Helen Norfon was interested in the clatter of 
 voices, the struggles of the crowd for positions of 
 vantage, the clanking of chains, the roaring of 
 escaping steam and the piercing yells of the omni 
 present small boy, even as she grew impatient at 
 the preternatural laziness of the ocean monster in 
 getting itself docked. She could not understand 
 why the swift racer of the high seas should be 
 come such a helpless lubber at the wharf. Some 
 thing of this she said to Philip, whose arm she was 
 grasping with a maidenly confidence that was 
 more delightful to him than even the entrusting 
 of the Norton millions. 
 
 Well, dear," he replied with a smile, "it s a 
 habit of great things, whether ships, or deals, or 
 hopes, to show their power so long as they are 
 moving. Let them slow down for a bit, and they 
 are as helpless as this big steamer." 
 
 But now the gang-plank was thrust forward 
 from the side of the Sachem, and among the first 
 to land was John Peter Norton. His commanding 
 form was at once surrounded by an army of re 
 porters eager to get the great man s first word. 
 These well-meaning, but necessarily persistent 
 gentlemen he courteously brushed aside with the 
 promise of a statement later in the day, and strode 
 to the spot where stood his pretty daughter and 
 
 177
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 her lover. A kiss for the one and a hearty hand 
 clasp for the other were before long duly chroni 
 cled as events of national importance. 
 
 "My dear little girl, how you are improving!" 
 he exclaimed ; "quite a woman, I declare. And 
 your mother? Good. Well, Craig? Yes, I see 
 you are. I am, too never better. Have you a 
 conveyance? All right, let s be moving, then." 
 
 The big man elbowed his way through the 
 crowded shed to the carriage yard, where Helen 
 was sent home in charge of her own coachman. 
 The two men took an auto-car and started for the 
 Norton offices. 
 
 "Confound ship machinery," exclaimed "John 
 Peter," as they bowled along toward the financial 
 district, "it s always breaking down, and I had 
 planned to do so much to-day. Well, let s do 
 what we can. Have you heard anything from 
 Sandstrom?" 
 
 "I have received several communications from 
 him in regard to the Homburg deal." 
 
 "That is excellent. You have not completed 
 the negotiations?" 
 
 "No ; your cable was received before I had time 
 to do so." 
 
 "Good again. That is too small an affair as it 
 stands or rather as it stood. Now I am in a 
 position to offer him something worth while." 
 
 Craig had figured roughly that the Homburg 
 business would return a profit of over two mil 
 lions, and he wondered vaguely what gigantic 
 stroke was to replace it. But as usual he asked no 
 questions. 
 
 "I suppose, Philip," continued Norton, "you 
 
 178
 
 A MATTER OF SENTIMENT 
 
 were a bit provoked that I robbed you of the 
 opportunity of going abroad." 
 
 The young man protested, with what might 
 have been suspicious warmth had not his chief 
 been busy with his own thoughts, that there was 
 no regret on his part. Could there be aught but 
 gratitude for a summer of Helen and love? 
 
 "The least I can do," went on his chief, "is to 
 acquaint you with the nature of my errand. I 
 went to Germany to post myself thoroughly on 
 the financial situation there riot the mere figures 
 of annual statistics or the statements of individual 
 money matters, but the intimate knowledge of the 
 position, the desires, the investments, the weak 
 nesses of the financial leaders. I sought especially 
 the rock-bottom facts concerning the house of 
 Sandstrom. ... By the way, Philip, I don t think 
 I ever told you what an old, long-headed money 
 lender once said to me as to how he judged the 
 financial responsibility of men." 
 
 Craig shook his head. 
 
 "Well, Samuel Levine was the cleverest Hebrew 
 who ever lent a dollar and got back two, and that, 
 you ll admit, is saying a great deal. He often had 
 millions at interest his own and other people s 
 and if he ever lost a dollar he never admitted it. 
 He was sometimes, in my early days, useful to me 
 when I was carrying deals bigger than I could 
 swing alone, and I was well acquainted with him, 
 so well acquainted that he never charged me even 
 the legal rate of interest. One day I mentioned 
 the name of a prominent man. 
 
 " Don t do peesness mit him, ma boy, don t do 
 peesness mit him, he said. I ventured to inquire 
 
 179
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 why not, and remarked that he was rated A I by 
 the commercial exchange. 
 
 " I vonldn t lent him a tollar not a tollar, 
 insisted my Hebrew friend. 
 " Why not? I asked. 
 
 He is no goot. He has so many servants that 
 two-thirds of em have nodings to do. 
 
 "Old Levine had no confidence in men whose 
 business principles did not extend to their own 
 homes. It was part of his system to study the men 
 with whom he expected to have dealings. He 
 inquired into their private lives, their business as 
 sociates, their petty weaknesses. Levine s philos 
 ophy, a bit overdrawn, perhaps, has in this case 
 been very valuable to me. When I meet a man, 
 either as possible friend or possible foe in busi 
 ness. I study his connections. It pays." 
 
 In what camp was Sandstrom, asked Philip of 
 himself. Was there to be an alliance or a battle 
 of giants? Under the calm surface of Norton s 
 shrewd philosophy he knew existed an undercur 
 rent of tremendous potentiality. The trip itself, 
 the last cable message, the quick inquiry as to 
 Sandstrom all spoke volumes to him who could 
 read right. And he believed that he now under 
 stood Norton as well as did any living man. 
 
 Up to the closing of the market, which was 
 notably buoyant over his return, Norton was 
 busily engaged with his brokers. Then Philip 
 was summoned to the private office. He found his 
 chief looking over the typewritten statements of 
 the various enterprises in which he was engaged, 
 and to Avhich Craig had added brief notes of such 
 further steps as had been taken. He looked up 
 with a rather puzzled expression. 
 
 1 80
 
 A MATTER OF SENTIMENT 
 
 "I m surprised, Philip," said he, "that no more 
 progress has been made in some of these matters. 
 That South American business, though, has been 
 given a very clever turn ; I doubt if I could have 
 thought of as good a way myself. The settlement 
 of the deal with Sparhawk & Co. is excellent, also. 
 But how about the Onometer Company? 
 Couldn t that have been settled under the policy 
 outlined ? And the oil deal with Ward Neilson 
 he was all ready to put that through when I left. 
 And I find a letter from Andrew Haven here pro 
 testing against your order that he stop the pro 
 ceedings for the additional land for the Pneumatic 
 Engine Co." 
 
 Now that the moment had arrived to set his 
 course right with his chief, Philip found himself 
 at a loss to begin. How easy it had seemed and 
 how difficult it was. Yet it was clear enough to 
 his intelligence, and he was about to prove the 
 faith there was in him when Norton resumed. 
 
 "1 see the Jamesons gave up at last." 
 
 Here was the entering wedge, thought Philip, 
 and he replied gravely: 
 
 "They did, but under very painful circum 
 stances." 
 
 "Yes. one of them killed himself, I believe. 
 Probably thought that the only thing left to do. 
 Pity he couldn t have been more reasonable." 
 
 Something grew cold around Philip s heart. It 
 seemed almost like a jest at death, a pleasantry 
 over an appalling tragedy. His hope that John 
 Norton would soften under the dire result of the 
 deal, and thus be willing to forego other similar 
 plans was almost ready to vanish. Only dimly he 
 comprehended that his chief was still talking, and 
 
 181
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 a question had to be asked twice, a thing that had 
 never before happened during his career in the 
 office. 
 
 "How about the Onometer Company: couldn t 
 we get control ?" 
 
 "Yes, but I found that the only way was by 
 wiping out the small stockholders." 
 
 "The best way, naturally. What about it?" 
 
 "I investigated the situation, and found that 
 those small stockholders were, in the majority at 
 least, widows or orphaned children whose guardi 
 ans had invested all their money in the Onometer 
 concern." 
 
 "Yes, it s often that \vay in those companies. 
 What of it?" 
 
 "This," replied Craig with a new note of appeal 
 in his voice, "I thought that when you knew the 
 situation, you would would not care to cripple 
 such people." 
 
 "No, not if there is another way. What move 
 do you propose?" 
 
 "Nothing, sir." 
 
 "Well, then, they must take their chances." 
 
 "But I know that some of them I have investi 
 gated several cases will be utterly ruined." 
 
 "Unfortunate," returned Norton, calmly, "but 
 they or their advisers should have been more care 
 ful. How about the Neilson deal?" 
 
 "That is much the same," said Philip, "if those 
 companies are united with the Consolidated, 
 twentv thousand workers and their families will be 
 affected." 
 
 Norton gazed thoughtfully at his assistant, like 
 a doctor making a sttent diagnosis of strange 
 symptoms. He pursed his thin lips and looked 
 
 182
 
 A MATTER OF SENTIMENT 
 
 half amused, half irritated. Here was a new sort 
 of figure in the world of finance and action. 
 
 "What s the matter, Craig?" he asked. "Have 
 you taken the burdens of humanity on your 
 shoulders?" 
 
 "Not at all, but I didn t think you would 
 wish " 
 
 "Of course I don t wish it. I d help it, if I 
 could. I d like to see every man, woman and child 
 in the world well and happy and I was going to 
 say rich, but perhaps that s not the best sort of 
 wish. But I can t bring it about. The majority 
 will always be at the bottom of the human pile, 
 and if we try to drag them out, they ll only pull us 
 in." 
 
 "But you cannot wish to profit by the distress 
 of the innocent?" 
 
 "Sentimentality, Philip. We are doing only 
 legitimate business. If we don t do it, someone 
 else will do it worse. Even if I would, I couldn t 
 stop their course now. You know others are in 
 terested with me." 
 
 The last of Philip s hopes of a different solution 
 of these problems faded away. He feared that the 
 tremendous machinery set in motion by Norton, 
 and stopped by himself, would start up again at 
 once, grinding, crushing, killing those hapless 
 victims who were in the way. Surprise, disap 
 pointment and bitterness fought for expression on 
 his face, and Norton s keen glance noted the look. 
 But for once he failed to penetrate beneath the 
 surface. 
 
 "You re unstrung, Philip," he said gently. "The 
 strain has been too heavy for you. I pitch-forked 
 a mass of things upon you too suddenly. Get out 
 
 183
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 into the open air and freshen up a bit. Take two 
 or three weeks vacation at the mountains or at 
 sea. You may have the Sea Lion and go south, if 
 you like. Get a bracer of that sort, and you ll be 
 all right again." 
 
 So saying, the financier, in kindly fashion, fairly 
 thrust the young man from his door, deaf to all 
 attempts at expostulation, and peremptorily or 
 dered him not to appear again until he had 
 regained his old-time vigor and mental equili 
 brium. 
 
 184
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 PATERNAL PROBATION. 
 
 THE cool October air, blowing up fresh from 
 the ocean, acted like a tonic on Philip s dis 
 ordered nerves and confused mentality. 
 He seemed to have left some mephitic atmosphere, 
 some stifling place where righteousness could not 
 breathe. 
 
 He began to think clearly, and especially of the 
 theme that was uppermost in his mind when he 
 had waited on the wharf for Norton : his affection 
 for Helen and his desire to win and wear her. He 
 realized that he had said nothing at all of the 
 matter to the man who should have known at 
 once, but he could not blame himself, for the fin 
 ancier had attacked business with such impetu 
 osity that all else had been swept aside. 
 
 With his walk came better hope and courage. 
 All wai not lost, he swore, when he recalled the 
 generosity, the kindliness with which his chief had 
 bid him begone for rest. The man s finer nature 
 would assert itself and temper his plans with 
 mercy. Philip was ready even to cast part of the 
 fault upon himself, as having been but an indiffer 
 ent advocate. 
 
 "He evidently does not feel all that he said," he 
 thought. "I was over-anxious and expressed 
 myself badly with regard to those matters, and he 
 naturally resented my freedom in calling his 
 
 185
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 attention to evils that had not occurred to him. 
 He will doubtless rectify them in his own way." 
 
 Then he fell to speculating how Norton would 
 receive the news of his quasi-engagement to 
 Helen. Who would tell him? Would it be the 
 gentle woman who ruled her household through 
 love, or the impetuous girl whose pretty tyrannies 
 had been so characteristically exploited by "Doc" 
 Bayles? Whichever the messenger, he felt that 
 his cause would not suffer. 
 
 By and by, as gathering dusk fell upon the 
 streets and the white radiance of the light-discs 
 began to creep across and conquer the gloom, he 
 paused in his walk and looked about him. Just 
 ahead he saw the great illuminated clock of the 
 central subway station and the blazing arch of 
 light into which a never-ending multitude was be 
 ing swallowed up as by magic. At that instant his 
 determination was taken. 
 
 "Why not?" he thought, half aloud. "It is only 
 common courtesy that I should speak to him at 
 once. The office was no place for such a confi 
 dence. I ll wait until he has met his family at 
 dinner, and then I ll go to him and ask him for 
 Helen." 
 
 When he was at last, after a dreary wait to use 
 his surplus of time, on the Brooklyn-bound train, 
 Philip felt a benumbed sense of weakness that 
 puzzled him until he remembered that he had had 
 nothing to eat since his early breakfast. In 
 another instant he laughed at the idea that he, 
 who, as a boy, had often gone supperless and 
 dinnerless to bed, should be troubled by such a 
 trifle as this. 
 
 Before the Norton estate he quite forgot his 
 1 86
 
 PATERNAL PROBATION 
 
 physical discomfort in the surge of other emotions 
 that swept over him. He seemed to have lost all 
 his firmness of character in the face of the simple 
 duty that confronted him; he even feared the 
 friendly guard who let him in at the lodge, and 
 suspected that stolid individual of peering into his 
 very soul. 
 
 At the steps of the house he paused to collect 
 his scattered wits and make a sort of reconnois- 
 ance. He could hear the soft, witching sound of 
 a Chopin waltz from within, its gay lilt almost 
 overborne by the haunting melancholy of the 
 melody in the bass. How like love and life, he 
 thought; joy and sorrow intermingled, each con 
 quering the other in turn and both joined in bonds 
 never to be dissolved. 
 
 Through one of the broad windows shadows 
 silhouetted themselves against the mellow light. 
 A man was sitting near a table, reading, his clean- 
 cut profile bent downward toward his book. A 
 woman was sewing near at hand. And even as he 
 gazed, the trimmest, roundest, most adorable 
 shadow ever seen crossed the room lightly and 
 seemed to sink toward and melt into that of the 
 man. 
 
 "Is she telling him of me?" Craig queried of his 
 own consciousness. "Come now, my boy, this 
 won t do. Go in and plead your own case in man 
 fashion. You were never given to blue-funking 
 before." 
 
 Somehow he rang the bell, crossed the thresh 
 old and handed the hall man his card with the 
 request that he would be glad to see Mr. Norton 
 alone. 
 
 The servant winked discreetly at the man-in- 
 187
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 the-moon of the great hall clock ; he was an intelli 
 gent flunky and understood why this young man 
 who had called so often in his master s absence, 
 should wish to see that master in private immedi 
 ately on his return. 
 
 In the library Philip found Mr. Norton smoking 
 one of his thin, exquisite panatellas. He was in a 
 genial and cheery mood. 
 
 "Well, Philip," he began, "I hardly expected to 
 see you again to-day, but I m glad you came. Of 
 course it isn t business; none of that here, you 
 know. Suppose we join the others?" 
 
 That being the very thing Philip did not want 
 to do at present, the suggestion threw him into a 
 woefully nervous state. Love runs conscience a 
 close race in making cowards of us all, and if this 
 sturdy product of a staunch race measured his 
 devotion by his agitation, he was a noble wooer 
 indeed. 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Norton," he stammered, "but 
 I I wished to see you on a personal matter 
 alone." 
 
 "Oh, very well, Philip. Here s a comfortable 
 chair. And have a cigar." And then he could 
 never have written a clear history of the process 
 Philip told his story, haltingly, modestly, but with 
 fervent earnestness and supreme confidence in his 
 love, once the ice had been broken. 
 
 John Norton smiled and blew a particularly 
 symmetrical ring from his cigar. Perhaps the 
 memory of a time thirty years agone made him 
 indulgent. This, then, was the mouse from the 
 mountain, this the hidden element that had 
 clogged his assistant s brain and distorted his view 
 
 188
 
 PATERNAL PROBATION 
 
 of great business strokes. He felt more kindly to 
 him than ever before. 
 
 "Philip, my boy," he said, as he rose and placed 
 both hands on the young man s shoulders, "I may 
 as well admit that this is not unexpected, although 
 [ scarcely thought it would come about so soon. 
 I gather that you have that there is an under 
 standing between you." 
 
 Philip nodded. 
 
 "I should have preferred that it had been de 
 layed. Helen is younger than her years, for she 
 has seen much less of the world than a girl in her 
 position naturally does. She has been, and is still, 
 her mother s girl. And, by the way, does Mrs. 
 Norton know of this?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; we told her very early." 
 
 "Then you have a great point in your favor, for 
 if she did not approve, I should not have heard 
 this first from you. But there must be no haste. 
 I should even prefer that there be no formal en 
 gagement until we are all more certain." 
 
 Craig would have stoutly declared, his own 
 changeless devotion, but that Norton went 
 steadily on. 
 
 "I like you, Philip. You have reason to know 
 that. Blood has no claims upon my sympathy 
 that you have probably surmised. Why, even 
 King Capital, Helen s horse Dandy, hadn t a pedi 
 gree as long as his ears. But the man that Helen 
 marries must have proved himself worthy of her. 
 Two or three years will test the metal of your love, 
 and you will some day be grateful to me for the 
 delay." 
 
 Philip s spirits sank dismally at these words. 
 Two or three years! A lifetime for lovers, a 
 
 189
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 period wherein any malign thing might happen 
 before the final happiness. A thousand events 
 might arise to change the father s opinion of him ; 
 he knew the old saying about the favor of princes. 
 But he was somewhat reassured by the kindly 
 tones of Norton s voice the most gentle cadence 
 he had ever heard from the man the world called 
 hard. 
 
 "You will not find a captious critic in me, 
 Philip," it said. "All I ask is that you prove your 
 self what I thought you when I selected you to 
 stand at my right hand in the conduct of my 
 affairs." 
 
 Again the dark spectre of the afternoon s dis 
 cussion reared its form. Philip would have re 
 ferred to the matter once more, but that Norton 
 would have none of it. 
 
 "Business another time, my boy. This evening 
 is the ladies . I rather think you ll not object, 
 eh?" 
 
 In the blissful evening that followed, a time of 
 music, laughter and love, Philip forgot all the ills 
 of conscience in the delights of the senses. That 
 night marked the flood tide of his happiness; it 
 was a roseate bit of his life that glowed gently in 
 his memory as long as memory endured. 
 
 190
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 THE PARTING OF THE WAYS. 
 
 THE next day was Sunday, and Philip, in the 
 natural reaction from the previous evening s 
 bliss, was restless and full of moods. He 
 could think of nothing better to clear the mists 
 than a long ride away from all the sights and 
 suggestions of the city. In a high-speed auto-car 
 he made his way to a little forest inn far up the 
 Hudson kept by a quaint philosopher whom he 
 had learned to like years before. 
 
 There he drank in new life, fresh inspiration and 
 a determination to plunge into his work as never 
 before. He would show John Norton that he 
 could be of value even in the narrower channel of 
 the undertakings his instincts approved. That dis 
 approval in one meant rebellion in all never 
 entered into his thought. 
 
 Next morning he was at his desk long before 
 the active machinery of the day had been put in 
 motion, and by the time his chief arrived he had 
 perfected the details of several important matters. 
 
 "What, you here, Philip?" exclaimed Norton, 
 kindly, as he passed through to his holy of holies, 
 "and after I ordered you away, too? You re an 
 obstinate youngster, and I may have to discipline 
 you. But since you are on deck, drop in to see 
 me at your convenience." 
 
 For Craig this meant immediate action, and in 
 191
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 a few minutes he was standing before the head of 
 the house, his mind as clear and his heart as 
 staunch as ever in his life. Like a good sailor he 
 had taken his soundings and charted his course, 
 and his wheel-hand was as firm as iron. He knew 
 that he was a different man from the confused and 
 almost weak-spirited fellow of two days before. 
 For once there should be no fungus growth of 
 misunderstanding. 
 
 Norton lost no time in the social amenities. 
 
 "Well, Philip," he began, "let s clear up all 
 unfinished business, as the manuals say. There 
 are big things ahead of us, and we want no loose 
 ends in the way." 
 
 With the marvelous rapidity characteristic of 
 him, Norton sketched out certain steps necessary 
 for bringing some pending deals to a conclusion. 
 
 "Now," he proceeded, "in the Onometer Com 
 pany matter there is but one thing to do. With 
 out that company the combination will be useless, 
 for as an independent operator it will make us 
 powerless. We must crowd out the Haynes in 
 terest." 
 
 Philip saw that there was no escaping the issue. 
 Like a stag in a battue he was unwittingly driven 
 on and on toward the point where every barrier 
 converged. There were no side avenues of exit; 
 he must go straight ahead and fight his way 
 through as best he might. 
 
 "But that will ruin the small stockholders," he 
 said, gravely. 
 
 "Small stockholders are always ruined in big 
 deals. They ll save what they can, and make it 
 up in a more profitable transaction." 
 
 "But, Mr. Norton, you do not know the cir- 
 192
 
 THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 
 
 cumstances ; I do. I have investigated, and as I 
 told you Saturday 
 
 A smile, of neither amusement nor pleasure, 
 flitted across the thin, straight lips. 
 
 "I thought that was forgotten, Craig. You 
 must drop sentiment and come to facts." 
 
 But these are facts, powerful facts," returned 
 Philip, the eloquence of a great earnestness filling 
 his voice. "It is a fact that these people will be 
 deprived of their all." 
 
 "Your sympathy is creditable," said Norton, 
 icily, "how then shall we obtain control ?" 
 
 "We might interest Haynes in the deal." 
 
 "Impossible, at least on any terms that I can 
 grant. Besides, Haynes is a self asserted enemy of 
 mine : he has made a boast of it." A note of in 
 tense, if quiet hatred came into the metallic voice 
 with the words; a king accusing a subject of trea 
 son could not have expressed more abhorrence. 
 
 "This thing must go on," he said,. slowly, "it is 
 final. Now as to the oil company deal. The con 
 solidation papers must be signed this week. Send 
 for Neilson, and close the matter up." 
 
 "But the men their wives and children !" 
 
 "Pawns, Craig, pawns, to be swept from the 
 chess-board of life because they are in the way." 
 
 For the first time Philip understood why the 
 great world called John Norton hard, why it 
 looked upon him as the incarnation of relentless 
 force set in motion by the desire to conquer the 
 world of money. He seemed as aloof from the 
 pains and distress of humanity as the fates of 
 mythology, who spin and cut and plan in obe 
 dience to a power even higher than their own. 
 
 "And the Jameson concern," continued the 
 193
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 chief, "I understand that the surviving brother has 
 secured capital somewhere probably from some 
 philanthropic fool and that it is to resume busi 
 ness. This time the company must be crushed for 
 ever. Hastings is too slow; you must see to this 
 yourself." 
 
 Philip Craig s spirit became once more his own. 
 It seemed to him that the cumulative strength of 
 a long race of conscience-obeying men and women 
 gathered itself in his soul for one tremendous blow 
 against evil. His mental vision, too, went far 
 beyond the walls of the temple of wealth, across 
 the inexpressible activity of the city streets to a 
 darkened house where a widow was weeping her 
 slain. Could he be accessory to her further tears ? 
 Was he to become the tool of oppression, selling 
 himself into bonds that could not be broken once 
 tighvly forged? He rose to his feet and looked 
 into his employer s steely eyes without a tremor. 
 
 "That I cannot do, Mr. Norton," he said, 
 calmly. 
 
 "Cannot? And why?" 
 
 "Because it is not right. Neither can I serve 
 you in the Onometer and the Ward Neilson 
 projects." 
 
 Over John Norton s heavy face there came a 
 flush that welled up from his neck and spread even 
 to the roots of his hair. His left thumb disap 
 peared under the arch of his ringers, and the closed 
 fist trembled slightly as it lay on the polished rose 
 wood of his desk. But his voice was as steady and 
 low as ever. 
 
 "So, sir," he said, "I am to understand that, for 
 mere childish sentiment, you refuse to carry for 
 ward the business which I have entrusted to you?" 
 
 194
 
 THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 
 
 "Yes, sir at least, business of that character. 
 I cannot and I will not do it." 
 
 "When you spoke in this vein on the day of my 
 return I thought you, as I said, unstrung, but 
 to-day" 
 
 Craig smiled grimly and shook his head. 
 
 "No, Mr. Norton, I am speaking and acting 
 calmly. I cannot rise on the ruined hopes, per 
 haps the dead bodies of innocent men, women and 
 children." 
 
 "You exaggerate. You seek to class accepted 
 business methods with brigandage." 
 
 "Is there enough difference for a distinction?" 
 
 "This passes patience," exclaimed Norton, 
 angrily. "Your logic to your employer savors of 
 impertinence. Let us end this matter here and 
 now. Will you or \vill you not carry out these 
 instructions?" 
 
 With infinite deliberation, so that it seemed 
 hours to him while the words came from his lips, 
 Philip gave his answer. 
 
 "I can not !" 
 
 Norton rose almost as slowly. The red tide of 
 anger had receded, and his face was now as pale 
 and expressionless as that of the dead. He drew 
 himself up to his full, ponderous height and faced 
 his assistant as if he would overawe him by mere 
 superiority of bulk. 
 
 "You have mistaken your man, Craig," he said. 
 "I confess I have mistaken mine, something I 
 seldom do." 
 
 "I am sorry " 
 
 "Sorry that I do not see things as you do, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "No, sir. I am sorry that I have given you 
 195
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 reason to believe that I could possibly place self- 
 interest so far above the dictates of conscience." 
 
 "I am sorry, too," replied Norton, "for I had 
 hoped great things from your co-operation." 
 
 "And you could trust to the loyalty of a man 
 who could be so disloyal to himself?" 
 
 "I do not understand you, Craig, I confess. In 
 thirty years of business no man has ever talked to 
 me as you have done. I believed you clear 
 headed, practical. I find you visionary, senti 
 mental. You are far from the man I thought you 
 when I welcomed you as a possible, indeed prob 
 able, husband of my daughter." 
 
 The grim significance of this struck sudden pain 
 through Philip s heart. He had not reckoned on 
 the ruin of his castles in Spain, the blight upon his 
 love, the bitter struggle to win this man s treasure, 
 if win her he ever could. There are moments in 
 our lives when counting the cost means moral dis 
 integration. But Craig went on without faltering; 
 to be bought by emotions would have been to him 
 as dishonorable as being bought by money. 
 
 "If I did otherwise than I have done, I should 
 not think myself worthy of her," he said. 
 
 "Are you fool or dupe?" sneered Norton. "Are 
 you a monomaniac on conscience, or are you 
 really better than the average man, I wonder?" 
 
 "None of these, sir," replied Philip, wrathfully. 
 "I have only seen the effects of injustice as it has 
 struck at a heart from which. my own life-blood 
 flowed." 
 
 "You mean ?" 
 
 "I mean," said the young man passionately, 
 "that the Angus Craig your millions would drive 
 
 196
 
 THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 
 
 by legal trickery from the house they are unable 
 to buy, is my father." 
 
 Norton stared at his protege in utter confusion. 
 In all the years of his activity no one had so 
 shaken his mental poise, so nearly reduced him to 
 the commonplace level of men who stammer. 
 
 "Craig? Why, I oh, the Pneumatic Engine 
 Company. But you said nothing of this. It could 
 be adjusted." 
 
 "That instance simply made me see other things 
 in their true light." replied Philip. "You will 
 acquit me of any selfish motive, I am sure." 
 
 The financier sat down again in his great 
 leathern chair and idly swung to and fro, his hand 
 pressed to his lips. When he spoke he seemed 
 almost to have forgotten Philip s presence. 
 
 "It was most unfortunate. ... If I had but 
 known. . . . But Haven had the matter in 
 charge." 
 
 There was a long silence, broken at last by the 
 younger man. 
 
 "Will it be agreeable to you to have my resig 
 nation to take effect from writing?" he asked. 
 
 Norton was roused from his musing as by a 
 trumpet-blast. There was that in Craig s voice 
 that was a call to arms, a challenge to a test of 
 strength. And as he looked up he saw a new and 
 stern face gazing at his own. The sense of great 
 opposition had reached him. It was will against 
 will, and in that gage of battle all his liking for the 
 young man vanished in an instant. He saw in 
 him only a quixotic fool with the hardihood to put 
 on the puny armor of conscience and offer combat 
 against a seasoned warrior. There was but one 
 thing to do. 
 
 197
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "As you please," he replied coldly, and turned 
 to busy himself with his papers. 
 
 Philip, without another word, walked from the 
 room and to his desk, where he mechanically 
 wrote the brief note that was to strip from him a 
 princely salary, the prospect of colossal power and 
 the right to woo a beautiful girl. Something of all 
 this flashed through his mind as he signed his 
 name, and yet he remembered afterward that he 
 had had no regret at the time. He quickly sent 
 the letter to his chief by a boy. 
 
 The reply was immediate. 
 
 "Your resignation is accepted," was its curt 
 tenor. "You will please send your keys to me. 
 Of course it will be useless for you to expect to 
 continue your acquaintance with my daughter." 
 
 Philip stared at Norton s closing words, and 
 drew his hand across his eyes as if to correct his 
 vision. Then he read once more. 
 
 With the letter tightly held he arose and walked 
 toward the private office. At the threshold he 
 shook his head with a grave smile and crushed the 
 bit of paper to a tiny ball. A minute later, having 
 delivered his keys, he was in the street, and the 
 interior of the great Norton office had become but 
 a memory. 
 
 The head of the house sat for some time gazing 
 fixedly at the shining little emblems of power that 
 were brought to him. At last he laid them gently 
 on his desk, and pressed a button. 
 
 "Have Mr. Andrew Haven telephoned to," he 
 said to the employee who came at the summons, 
 "and ask him to call and see me at once." 
 
 198
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 BLOW UPON BLOW. 
 
 NOW that Philip Craig had crossed his Rubi 
 con, there was no backward glance at the 
 pleasant land on the farther shore. He 
 would go on where duty led, with no regrets for 
 his decision. If other men followed a code of busi 
 ness ethics he abhorred, that was nothing to him, 
 nor could any amount of specious reasoning con 
 vince him that profit deliberately wrung from the 
 woe of the innocent was anything better than 
 blood-money. 
 
 He remembered an old saying of his father s: 
 "Show me a mon who makes a fortune in quick 
 speculation, an I ll show ye ane who ll hae to 
 stand sponsor before the Almighty for meesery 
 and want." He approved it heartily; in fact, he 
 had found himself for some time thinking of his 
 rather crabbed sire with a growing conviction that 
 his bitter philosophy held great truths. Now, 
 more than ever, he saw the elemental strength of 
 the man. 
 
 But what the path of duty was at this juncture 
 he did not clearly know. He felt certain, however, 
 that the highway of business was closed to him. 
 As a discarded employee of John Norton he would 
 be of little value except, perhaps, to swindlers who 
 could use his knowledge of the financier s affairs 
 for their own profit. He felt a sort of exultation 
 
 199
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 as he thought of the havoc he could make of the 
 great "John Peter s" most cherished plans; yet he 
 had no temptation thereto. His hands were 
 washed clean, and he did not care to plunge them 
 into the dirty water again. 
 
 Philip was far from believing himself either 
 fitted for or worthy of religious work, as such, yet 
 he did feel a strong desire to be of some use to 
 humanity. He had sacrificed his material pros 
 pects for a principle profoundly connected with his 
 fellow men ; why not be consistent, and go farther 
 along the same lines? Yet how? And then, there 
 was Helen! 
 
 Being a young man of determination, he re 
 solved not to give the girl up without a struggle. 
 He believed she would rely upon him to show his 
 mettle for the winning of her, and he told himself 
 that she should be satisfied. 
 
 How to set about this battle for love Philip took 
 some time in deciding. Manifestly he could not 
 gather a band of devoted followers and take Castle 
 Norton by assault. He did not quite trust to the 
 efficacy of the mail, for he knew enough of Norton 
 to feel sure that all letters to Helen would be rig 
 orously scrutinized. And, although he never 
 doubted her heart, he knew that she would be 
 harassed between love for him and loyalty to her 
 father, and should have all the aid and comfort he 
 could give. 
 
 Next day he decided on a strategic move. He 
 would send a message to Helen by some one who 
 had access to her and whom he could trust. And 
 that someone should be 
 
 "Muggsy." 
 
 He spoke the name aloud in his delight at hav- 
 200
 
 BLOW UPON BLOW 
 
 ing solved the problem. The diminutive offspring 
 of "Doc" Bayles saw Helen every day, he knew, 
 for the girl was constant in her visits to the sta 
 bles; then again, the jockey owed him the recom 
 pense of a good turn, for he had often employed 
 him as a messenger of Cupid when the work was 
 easy and the rewards generous. 
 
 "The very person," Philip said, "he is shrewd, 
 devoted to Helen and really owes me a service. 
 I ll use him." 
 
 To call at the abiding place of young Bayles was 
 not politic, but the telephone was at hand, and the 
 small emissary was quickly reached. 
 
 "Hello, that you, Muggsy?" said Craig, as he 
 pulled the shining standard across his desk. "Are 
 you busy? Then please come to my chambers as 
 soon as you can. I ve an important errand for 
 you. You ll be here in an hour ? Good boy. And 
 by the way, you needn t mention this to anyone. 
 Good-by." 
 
 Then Philip gave himself to the task of writing 
 an appropriate letter to Helen, and he found it a 
 difficult thing to do. To say too much or too 
 little, to be too ardent or too dignified was ab 
 surdly easy ; but to tell her of his breach with her 
 father with no vainglory and yet establishing the 
 justice of his own position caused him many a 
 qualm. 
 
 After writing and destroying half a dozen notes 
 he evolved something that survived. Perhaps the 
 ringing of his bell, evidently the forerunner of 
 "Muggsy s" arrival, had something to do with it; 
 at any rate, the letter explaining the rupture, 
 breathing unalterable love and imploring Helen to 
 meet him next day at a certain hour in a certain 
 
 201
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 art gallery they were wont to visit together, was 
 sealed and addressed by the time the junior 
 Bayles, dressed in brown velveteens and smelling 
 very much of the stables, was ushered to the apart 
 ments by a scandalized hall-boy. 
 
 "Come in, Bayles," he said, to the further dis 
 approbation of the ebony servant, "I won t detain 
 you but a minute. How are you and your 
 father?" 
 
 "Doc an me s well," replied the youthful stoic. 
 "What is it you want this time, sir?" 
 
 "I ll tell you. Take this envelope and deliver it 
 to Miss Norton 
 
 To Miss Helen, sir?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, of course." 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir. Didn t know but you might 
 a meant the old Mis Norton," replied "Muggsy," 
 with just the suspicion of a mischievous gleam in 
 his eye. 
 
 "Deliver it to Miss Helen," continued Craig, 
 "when she is alone not otherwise. And have her 
 read it in your presence. Then come back to me 
 with her answer, whether written or spoken. If 
 there is any delay in delivery, let me know by tele 
 phone. Now do you understand this thor 
 oughly?" 
 
 "I does, sir. I ll do it right, sir, you kin depend. 
 . . . Oh, thankee, sir." 
 
 It was not until evening that Philip s anxiety of 
 waiting he had even had dinner sent up to his 
 rooms was relieved by the tinkle he instinctively 
 recognized as proceeding from "Muggsy." He 
 seized the receiver nervously. 
 
 "Yes, it s I Mr. Craig. What? Not able to 
 see her alone? Oh, guests, were they? H mph, 
 
 202
 
 BLOW UPON BLOW 
 
 Haven ? And another gentleman, you say ? Well, 
 it can t be helped. Try hard to-morrow." 
 
 "It can t be till afternoon; I m on duty till 
 then," came the answering- voice, and with that 
 decree Craig had to be content. 
 
 Next day, for want of something to relieve the 
 tension of his mind, as well as obeying a rather 
 unusual impulse, he went to see the Rev. Adoni- 
 ram Bentley at his "office," far down in the slum 
 district of the city. During the night, which had 
 held its wakeful hours, the mild eyes and gentle 
 voice of the clergyman had seemed to brood over 
 him, to hold out promise of peace, even to call 
 him from his valley of gloom up into a hillside of 
 sunshine. It was half dream, half walking illusion, 
 but it moved him deeply and he answered the 
 summons. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Bcntley s "clearing-house for misery," 
 as someone had called it, had been in earlier days 
 the approach through one side of a building to 
 some warehouses in the rear. These had long 
 since gone the way of things mortal, and Mr. 
 Bentley had rented the narrow space, partitioning 
 off one end into a tiny room for his desk and 
 library. The rest of the corridor was lined with 
 benches for his "patients," as he termed them. 
 
 "The poor and the criminal are all sick," he was 
 wont to say, "and their healing is usually more 
 difficult than the average hospital case." 
 
 When Philip arrived the good clergyman s 
 morning work was well in hand, and there were 
 not more than a half-dozen miserable specimens 
 of humankind sitting on the benches. They gazed 
 at the clean-cut, vigorous young man with sodden 
 curiosity or hopeless envy. What possible errand 
 
 203
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 could he have with the soul-doctor, they won 
 dered. 
 
 Bentley, too, was surprised to see Philip, yet he 
 greeted him with the great-hearted kindness that 
 made him such a power for good among the 
 powers of evil. 
 
 "Well, Philip," he said, after the more formal 
 greetings, "what is it? I know that it is out of 
 the common, or you would not be here at this time 
 of the day. And I m sorry that I can see distress 
 in your face." 
 
 Then, feeling for the first time the tremendous 
 strain he had undergone, seeing his own troubled 
 soul mirrored back in the tenderly compassionate 
 eyes of his friend, Philip poured forth his story as 
 a child might tell its sorrows at its mother s knee. 
 
 The little clergyman listened with ever-growing 
 astonishment. Strange stories he had heard in 
 his time, harrowing tales of self-corruption and 
 disgrace, confessions of crimes that would curdle 
 the blood, but nothing so unusual as this. Here 
 tofore evil had alwavs triumphed over good ; none 
 had ever come to tell him that conscience had won 
 a victory. He listened intently, his head bowed 
 upon his hands. 
 
 "Well," said Philip, with a constrained little 
 laugh, when he had finished, "I have told my 
 story; what have you to say?" 
 
 Mr. Bentley raised his eyes and gazed mildly at 
 his caller s somewhat excited face. 
 
 "I am sincerely sorry for you, Philip," he said. 
 "What can I say more? You have not come to 
 me for advice, for, as you say, there can be no 
 turning back. 
 
 "No no but I did not even intend to tell you 
 204
 
 BLOW UPON BLOW 
 
 or anyone. But now that I have told you, have I 
 done right?" 
 
 "Your conscience, not I, must be the judge. 
 Possibly" 
 
 "Possibly well?" 
 
 Possibly you were overstrained by the tragedy 
 you mentioned. Mr. Norton, generous, syste 
 matically charitable man that he is, would 
 scarcely " 
 
 "Charitable!" broke in Philip, fiercely. "Yes, if 
 it is charitable to bind up the wounds we ourselves 
 inflict." 
 
 "Can he be held accountable for the sufferings 
 of the children his hospital is to shelter?" asked 
 the clergyman, with gentle emphasis. 
 
 Craig felt a hot wave of indignation surge up 
 from his heart. Was this man, then, like all the 
 rest, lenient to the sins of his benefactors? 
 
 "You, of course, can see no wrong in him," he 
 exclaimed, bitterly. "I forgot you were to be his 
 almoner." 
 
 "Philip !" 
 
 Only one word, but so filled with the tender 
 melancholy of reproach that the younger man 
 would fain have hidden his face. 
 
 "Forgive me." he said, humbly, "I did not mean 
 it. I scarcely know what I am saying." 
 
 And as the clergyman gazed at the drawn and 
 haggard face opposite him he could well believe 
 that Philip was not responsible for his words. 
 There was an unnatural light in his eyes, and his 
 voice did not ring true. For a moment Mr. Bent- 
 ley feared that some mental or physical link in the 
 chain might snap under the tension. He would 
 do what he could to ease the strain. 
 
 20 q
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Philip, my lad," he began, "we cannot always 
 judge of right or wrong by individual instances. 
 Even absolute oppression sometimes changes by 
 perspective. Great progress never fails to leave 
 destruction in its path. Napoleon strode through 
 the ashes of myriads of homes, over the corpses of 
 unnumbered thousands, but the legacy of the ruin 
 he wrought is seen to-day in an ennobled Europe." 
 
 "But do you compare this business w r ar upon 
 individuals ?" 
 
 He could not go on. Argument with this man 
 whom he knew to be noble, charitable, generous 
 and good seemed almost like a needless insult. But 
 the fact that the clergyman failed to see things as 
 he saw them shocked him deeply and took the 
 very ground from under his feet. 
 
 "Even if things were as bad as you thought," 
 said Mr. Bentley, "you might have done more for 
 humanity by remaining and trying to soften the 
 injustices than by giving the work over to other 
 and less conscientious hands. You have sug 
 gested a personal interest on my part. Is it unfair 
 if I hint that the fact that your father was a threat 
 ened victim may have aroused your own self- 
 interest?" 
 
 It was now Philip s turn to feel the sting; he was 
 not so patient as the other had been. 
 
 "Good God, man," he exclaimed, hotly, "as if 
 concern for him could dwarf my other self-inter 
 est! You re illogical." 
 
 "True, you lose money and position," returned 
 the clergyman, "but I know you well enough to 
 realize that they would not weigh in the balance." 
 
 "It is not that. Don t you know haven t you 
 seen that I love Helen Norton ?" 
 
 206
 
 BLOW UPON BLOW 
 
 Now Mr. Bentley had not known nor surmised 
 it, much as he had been in the company of both. 
 To his gentle soul the manifestations of affection, 
 had he noted them at all, would have seemed only 
 part and parcel of the great common love human 
 ity should share. But now, as he learned the truth, 
 he realized how powerfully Philip had been im 
 pressed by the cases of injustice to individuals he 
 had mentioned, and how great had been his sacri 
 fice for conscience sake. The kindly gentleman 
 was nowon familiar ground, a place where he could 
 minister to a wounded heart, and, in his supremely 
 sympathetic fashion, he spoke such words of com 
 fort and cheer as seemed best to fit the hour. 
 
 Craig listened gratefully, but could not gain any 
 practical solace from Mr. Bentley s well-meant 
 efforts. Moreover, he was nervous and restless, 
 and felt that he ought to be where he could receive 
 Helen s reply as soon as possible. After a little, he 
 excused himself and hurried back to his apart 
 ments. 
 
 Fie had been home scarcely half an hour when 
 his bell rang sharply. In a delirium of impatience 
 he rushed to the door and found "Muggsy." That 
 small Mercury was somewhat astonished to be 
 dragged inside with no gentle hand. 
 
 "Did you see her?" was the excited query. 
 
 "Yes, sir, just after luncheon. She was alone, 
 and I had a good chance." 
 
 "Yes, yes. Well?" 
 
 "She told me to give you this," and he slowly 
 brought forth the envelope that Philip knew only 
 too well. 
 
 "But this is mine?" he exclaimed, "and un 
 opened. What did she say?" 
 
 207
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 For once "Muggsy" appeared perturbed. He 
 shifted from one foot to the other and searched in 
 his coat pocket for a bit of his beloved cracked 
 corn. 
 
 "Out with it, man 1" 
 
 "Well, sir, she says, Who gave you this? I 
 told her, and then she says, Tell Mr. Craig it will 
 be useless for him to try to commun cate with or 
 see me again/ she says." 
 
 For a moment Philip staggered as from a ter 
 rific physical blow. Then he doubted his eyes, his 
 ears and even "Muggsy s" sanity. He plied the 
 young man with questions, only to find the bitter 
 truth still more clearly revealed. Helen Norton, 
 who had vowed constancy till death, was already 
 dead to him. 
 
 He hastily pressed a bill on Bayles and, scarcely 
 knowing that he was doing so, the letter as well. 
 
 "What am I to do with this, sir?" asked the boy. 
 
 "Keep it; give it to her when she will take it," 
 Philip replied with a harsh laugh. 
 
 In his agony of soul he paced the room until 
 the very walls seemed to mock at him. He could 
 endure the place no longer, and made his way to 
 the street, already brilliant with the tide of beauty 
 and fashion at its afternoon flood. The trappings 
 of wealth, the smug complacency of the well-born, 
 the insolence of liveried flunkies all the outward 
 signs of a luxury that counted no cost of treasure 
 or of blood z exasperated him almost to frenzy. 
 He must get away from it, or he would do some 
 thing he would regret; that much he could com 
 prehend. 
 
 But where to go? He walked aimlessly, as a 
 man without an abiding-place, accosted now and 
 
 208
 
 BLOW UPON BLOW 
 
 then by wretched fellows whose mission on earth 
 was to suck the blood of the prosperous. He gave 
 to every one of them, vaguely speculating as to 
 the places they called home. 
 
 Home! Back over the path of memory went 
 his disordered mind to the house of his boyhood, 
 the little room he had called his own, the fireside 
 where he had spent his winter evenings with his 
 books. There would he go, to the stern old man 
 who had said, "When ye tire o ye er friends in 
 Mammon, coom back." In the little cottage 
 where right held its sway, encompassed as it was 
 with the powers of darkness, he would find some 
 thing of peace. 
 
 When he reached the dismal street he noticed 
 with apathetic curiosity that workmen were en 
 gaged on a great building near his father s house. 
 He could scarcely think consecutively, for his head 
 was hot and light and subject to a strange pres 
 sure from within. He even staggered as he 
 walked, so that one of the stone masons nudged 
 his mate and laughed significantly. 
 
 "Gee, Bill, look at the swell. I wish I had half 
 his load." 
 
 At the moment of his passing the steam derrick 
 swinging the heavy stone on which the men had 
 been working began to move across his path. 
 
 "Look out, there," cried one of the masons, as 
 Philip took a step or two. "My God, man, look 
 out !" 
 
 He heard the words clearly enough, but they 
 had no meaning for him. For an instant he 
 looked about in dazed surprise, then the great 
 block swung across the spot where he had stood 
 and left him prone upon the sidewalk, which was 
 
 209
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 dyed by the blood from a terrible gash in his head. 
 
 Sympathetic workmen gathered about him, with 
 the usual helplessness of a crowd, and almost as 
 soon as they came an ambulance from the nearest 
 police station. As the surgeon rose from his ex 
 amination of the prostrate form he shook his head 
 gravely. 
 
 "Does anyone here know this man?" he asked. 
 
 One of the bystanders, whose seamed and 
 rugged face was surmounted with a tangled mass 
 of reddish gray hair, pushed his way to the centre 
 of the crowd and looked down into the still, w r hite 
 face on the pavement. 
 
 "I ken him," he said, quietly. "He s my son." 
 
 The rest gave way with respectful silence. 
 Then, at the old Scotchman s stern command, the 
 limp mass of what had a moment before been a 
 handsome, active man was borne tenderly into the 
 little cottage. Philip Craig had come home, in 
 deed. 
 
 210
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS. 
 
 A HALF hour after Philip Craig had left 
 John Norton s office forever, Andrew 
 Haven came into it, filled with satisfaction, 
 because he knew from experience that a peremp 
 tory summons generally meant profitable activity 
 for himself. And although the great man was out 
 wardly as calm as ever, the keen-scented old 
 sycophant knew at once that some disturbing 
 event had happened; he had not studied in vain 
 the patron in whose grip he had been for many 
 years. 
 
 Norton lost no time in turning over the carry 
 ing out of several business projects to Haven, and, 
 much as that sleek individual wondered, he re 
 ceived the commissions with glee, and held his 
 peace. He was not given to irritating his chief 
 with questions. 
 
 But when the Onometer deal was given into his 
 charge with instructions to put it through at once, 
 Haven could refrain no longer. 
 
 "You ll pardon me, I am sure," he said in his 
 most deprecatory manner, "but I thought that 
 matter was entirely in Mr. Craig s hands." 
 
 "Mr. Craig is no longer associated with my 
 affairs," returned Norton, without looking up 
 from his paper. 
 
 A gleam of sinister delight came into Haven s 
 211
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 little eyes, and whatever passed for his heart gave 
 a bound of triumph. He had hated Craig with a 
 hatred all the more bitter because it was secret, 
 ever since it was apparent that the young man 
 stood closer to the throne of finance than he could 
 ever hope to be. His envy had been well masked 
 under a show of friendship, for he feared the 
 strong and earnest character of his rival. But now 
 that his path was clearer than it had ever been, he 
 could have cried aloud for joy. Instead he only 
 ventured to say, with an affectation of well-bred 
 surprise : "Indeed ? I thought " 
 
 "No matter what you thought. He and I did 
 not- -agree." 
 
 "I cannot say how deeply I regret " 
 
 "You needn t regret," returned Norton, with 
 his hard smile. "It will profit you, I daresay, well 
 enough." 
 
 "Oh, I I pray allow me but I thought 
 Craig a very capable young man, even if if some 
 what addicted to the habit of advancing his own 
 ideas in preference to yours." 
 
 "Oh, you saw that, did you? Little ever 
 escapes you, I fancy, Andrew." 
 
 Haven disliked hearing his own praises sung 
 when they took a certain tone, and he now 
 changed the subject somewhat. 
 
 "You ll pardon me, Norton liberty of an old 
 friend, you know but Miss Helen?" 
 
 "So you know that, too? Perhaps you can help 
 me there. It will be a blow to Helen. I regret it, 
 but she has enough of her father in her to endure 
 disappointment." 
 
 "Especially when she knows he is unworthy," 
 insinuated Haven. 
 
 212
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS 
 
 "Just so. Look here, Haven, you are not averse 
 to lying curb your indignation in a good cause, 
 of course. Well, anyway, you never saw any good 
 in Craig." 
 
 "Why, as to that " and the little man shrugged 
 his shoulders eloquently. 
 
 "I shall tell Helen to-night that all must end 
 between them," continued "John Peter." "I shall 
 simply say the truth that he is not the man I 
 thought him. If opportunity presents, you can 
 drive the wedge home with well, with whatever 
 suggests itself." 
 
 "Why, I am sincerely sorry for Miss Helen," 
 Haven said glibly, "and of course I will do any 
 thing I can." 
 
 With that promise, which his little soul was 
 eager enough to fulfil, Haven left the presence of 
 his chief, brimming over with happiness. Had he 
 seen the look of contempt Norton cast after him, 
 he might not have walked through the clerks de 
 partment with an air of self-confidence quite for 
 eign to his usual apologetic demeanor. He was 
 noticed, as he intended to be. 
 
 "Guess Andrew s struck something rich from 
 the old man," observed the head bookkeeper to his 
 assistant. "Never saw him look so cocky in my 
 life." 
 
 "H mph ! More likely the chief s pulled him out 
 of another big hole. Lord, what luck some men 
 
 do have !" 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Late that afternoon, Mrs. Norton, after a brief 
 interview with her husband, sent word to Helen to 
 come to her boudoir. Her gentle nature shrank 
 from the task Norton had imposed upon her, but 
 
 213
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 his word was law, as always, and, too, her implicit 
 faith in his judgment made her feel that in this 
 case he must be right. 
 
 As tenderly as possible she broke the news to 
 the girl, who came in radiant from a brisk walk in 
 the great park near by. The sunny face and happy 
 eyes struck a pang to the mother s heart. She 
 knew too well how soon the light would be 
 quenched, and the smiling mouth droop into 
 curves of sadness. 
 
 Little by little, and with infinite tenderness, she 
 drew the talk away from other things to the sub 
 ject of Craig and their love. Thus far the task was 
 easy, for the girl s heart seconded the mother s 
 speech with an enthusiasm that revealed her feel 
 ings completely. Mrs. Norton sighed; the altar- 
 fires of her own affection were still warm, and she 
 realized the pain that she was to inflict. 
 
 "Of course you know, Helen," she said, "that 
 my endorsement of your engagement was subject 
 to your father s approval ?" 
 
 The girl s quick instinct took alarm, as a wild 
 doe s at the hearing of some unusual note in 
 nature. 
 
 "Why, yes, of course, mamma," she replied, 
 "and he does approve. At least it seemed so last 
 night when he knew." 
 
 "He did approve, dear, but many things may 
 happen in a few hours." 
 
 "Happen? But not not" 
 
 "Helen, child, it wounds me deeply to say it, 
 but you must cease to think of Philip any more." 
 
 The blue eyes dilated with wonder and the color 
 left the rounded cheeks. The girl for a moment 
 
 214
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS 
 
 seemed not to understand her mother s words, 
 then burst forth indignantly: 
 
 "It can t be true !" 
 
 "It is true, my dear," said Mrs. Norton, gently. 
 "Mr. Craig is a different man from what your 
 father thought. So far different is he that your 
 father has been compelled to sever business rela 
 tions with him." 
 
 "Because he because he loved me?" asked the 
 mystified girl. 
 
 "No, no, dearest, of course not that. Your 
 father had promised you to him in two years if he 
 proved worthy." 
 
 "And how has he proved otherwise?" 
 
 "I can only tell you what your father says that 
 he has been a terrible disappointment to him ; that 
 they separated because Mr. Craig attempted but 
 why should I tell you? It would only cause you 
 pain." 
 
 Helen stood up proudly and looked straight at 
 her mother s kindly eyes with an expression the 
 elder woman had never seen on her face before. 
 At that instant she seemed to drop the spiritual 
 garb of girlhood. 
 
 "It is my right to know," she said, firmly. 
 "You say I must never see the man I love again, 
 but you do not tell me why. You are cruel," 
 
 "My dear," replied the distressed mother, "it 
 wrings my heart to be the bearer of such news. 
 Heaven knows I wish it were another s duty. But 
 you know your father liked him, had advanced 
 him to a very high position, and intended to make 
 him his successor." 
 
 "But how why " 
 
 "I can only tell you that he insulted your father, 
 215
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 and refused absolutely to do his duty. There was 
 more, but what, your father would not tell even 
 me." 
 
 Helen would hear no more. Full of the sense of 
 outraged justice, of wounded love, of passionate 
 pride in her devotion, she hurried to her own room 
 and threw herself upon her bed. Then came the 
 gift of tears, those divine streams upon which flow 
 away so much of the bitterness of suffering. 
 
 But young hearts weep briefly, and soon 
 Helen s strength of nature asserted itself. She 
 rose and bathed her eyes, full of a strong determina 
 tion not to submit tamely to what she believed to 
 be a great wrong. And as a first step she must get 
 word to Philip, must assure him that her love was 
 as warm and true as ever. She wrote a letter of 
 ardent affection, promising that whatever had 
 happened he should be allowed to speak for him 
 self. 
 
 She thrust the note into the bosom of her dress, 
 and went to find a safe messenger. "Muggsy" 
 Bayles was unquestionably the right person, but 
 on inquiring as to his whereabouts, she found that 
 he was out; was, in fact, coming to the house. 
 She summoned all her patience to await his ar 
 rival. 
 
 In the hall she met Mr. Andrew Haven, who 
 greeted her with effusive ceremony. He had come 
 to see her father, he said, but had found him en 
 gaged, and must wait. He would go into the 
 reception room, if he might be permitted, and stay 
 until his chief was at leisure. 
 
 Scarcely knowing why she did so, Helen fol 
 lowed the meek little man into the beautiful apart 
 ment and sat down. He seemed so embarrassed, 
 
 216
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS 
 
 so fearful of incommoding anyone in the establish 
 ment that her girlish heart actually pitied him. 
 She talked of the things she thought might inter 
 est him, and inevitably her father s business at last 
 came to their tongues. 
 
 "I was greatly surprised to-day," ventured 
 Haven, "to learn that Mr. Craig had left your 
 father." 
 
 A fortunate incident, thought Helen. Here 
 was a man who could perhaps shed more light on 
 the darkness than her mother had been able to do. 
 With innocent duplicity she remarked quite casu 
 ally : 
 
 I suppose you were. You and Phi Mr. Craig 
 were good friends, were you not ?" 
 
 Haven chuckled inwardly at the simplicity of 
 the idea; it was very amusing, but he believed it 
 best not to undeceive the girl. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," he replied, warmly. "I may say 
 that next to your father and, of course, yourself 
 T was his best friend. I regret this episode ex 
 ceedingly, and I am greatly disappointed. I had 
 expected a bright future for Philip." 
 
 "To what do you attribute the trouble?" asked 
 Helen, in as matter-of-fact a tone as she could. 
 
 His knowledge of the matter was less than her 
 own, but timorous as he v/as in many ways, he was 
 never at loss for an answer. His agile mind had 
 already mapped out a course of action, and he pro 
 ceeded upon it with the sublime confidence of a 
 marplot. 
 
 "I believe that the free rein given him during 
 your father s absence rather unbalanced him, and 
 he refused to accept his control on his return." 
 
 A swift gesture of disbelief on Helen s part did 
 217
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 not escape his notice, and he hastened to qualify 
 his remarks. 
 
 "But he is young and ambitious, and well, I 
 liked him, you know." 
 
 To the young girl s sensitive mind this friendly 
 little person seemed almost an angelic messenger, 
 a being sent by providence to take her words of 
 cheer to the one she loved. Haste, she felt, was 
 necessary, for she thought she heard some one 
 approaching. With sweet and maidenly impul 
 siveness that would have touched a nobler man 
 deeply, she drew the letter from her bosom and 
 thrust it into Haven s fat and nerveless hands. 
 
 "Mr. Haven, you are a friend of Philip, and of 
 me, too," she said, rapidly. "You must know that 
 we are very dear to each other. I have only just 
 been told that I must see him no more. It is es 
 sential to his happiness and to mine that I hear 
 what he has to say. This letter will you take it 
 to him?" 
 
 With all his cleverness at rapid decisions, An 
 drew Haven found himself deliberating. He had 
 not counted on a confidence that would make him 
 a messenger of love. His first thought was to take 
 the letter and destroy it, but immediately he real 
 ized that this was a threadbare ruse, and easily 
 brought home to him. He withdrew his hand, 
 leaving the missive in the girl s own. 
 
 "No, no, I cannot take it," he declared. 
 
 "\Vhy not? He is your friend." 
 
 "But so is your father and he 
 
 "And 7 am your friend," continued Helen, tri 
 umphantly. "We are two to one !" 
 
 Just here a splendid thought flashed into 
 Haven s brain. This was the very moment to 
 
 218
 
 A SNAKE IN THE GRASS 
 
 strike to do Norton the service he had promised, 
 as well as to make full repayment for the cold con 
 tempt with which Craig had dismissed him when 
 he took from his hands that matter with which his 
 chief had entrusted him. 
 
 "No, Miss Norton," he exclaimed, "I cannot 
 take it. I did admire Mr. Craig I half like the 
 fellow now. It s hard, you know, to totally for 
 sake a friend. But he he is well, he has no 
 right to receive a note from you." 
 
 "Explain," commanded the girl, a bright spot 
 glowing in either cheek. "An explanation is cer 
 tainly my right." 
 
 "My dear young lady, I am not the one to ask. 
 Your father or your mother would " 
 
 "It is you who have said this; why?" 
 
 "Well, I understand that is, I know that the 
 disagreement between Mr. Craig and your father 
 was because because of you." 
 
 "Yes; go on." 
 
 "Well, the fact is Mr. Craig insisted on an im 
 mediate marriage with you." 
 
 "Yes." vShe spoke with a great thrill of pride 
 and loyalty. That was not a fault, at any rate. 
 
 "And then," continued Haven, "when your 
 father insisted upon a year or two of delay, Mr. 
 Craig said he would not wait that you must 
 really pardon me that immediate marriage with 
 you was necessary to establish his credit in some 
 enormous outside deal he had in hand." 
 
 A little sound as of a gasp for breath told him 
 that the shot had gone home, and he continued : 
 
 "And he demanded either immediate marriage 
 with a half interest in the business or a large sum 
 
 219
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 of money as an indemnity, I presume. There, I 
 have told you, and I " 
 
 His inveterate habit of proffering sympathy 
 would have led him to utter a soothing phrase of 
 some sortj but that something in Helen s face 
 awed him. 
 
 "I have told you what I know/ he pursued, 
 "and I trust vou will forgive the pain I have caused 
 you." 
 
 "I am your debtor, Mr. Haven," replied Helen, 
 coldly. "We have indeed been mistaken in him. 
 This note, of course, will not be delivered." And 
 she walked out haughtily, tearing the paper into 
 fragments as she went. 
 
 Haven looked after her with admiration in his 
 sharp little eyes. "A chip of the old block," he 
 thought, "a girl among a thousand." Then self, 
 his greater idol, rose uppermost. "I think," he 
 said, with a smile, "that John Norton owes me 
 more than thanks." 
 
 In her own room, tearless and hardened, Helen 
 set about destroying the mementos of an affec 
 tion that now seemed like a mockery of sentiment, 
 a travesty of nature s sweetest impulse. Love s 
 bruised wings would never hover over her again, 
 she was sure, nor would her nature ever recover 
 from the shock of the day s revelation. But her 
 wound must be hidden ; neither curiosity nor com 
 passion should touch it or have any share in mak 
 ing it rankle beyond its natural smart. 
 
 Next day she wore the perfect mask of calmness, 
 and no one heard her mention Philip Craig s 
 name, except "Muggsy" Bayles, when he came, in 
 the honesty of his devotion, to attempt to deliver 
 his ill-fated letter. 
 
 220
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A PLEDGE TO THE DEAD. 
 
 THE house of Angus Craig stood bravely 
 against the shocks of time, and yet it bore 
 the scars of a conflict that was not wholly 
 due to the lapse of many days. Something new 
 had set its impress of ruin and decay about its 
 once trim exterior. A suggestion of unkempt- 
 ness and neglect was found in its worn paint, its 
 shabby, ill-hanging blinds, its broken window- 
 panes pathetically stuffed with whatever had been 
 nearest to hand. Even the snow that covered the 
 ground on a crisp evening long after the acci 
 dent to Philip could not hide the dilapidation that 
 had set in, for the once well-kept fence had lost 
 many a paling, and the gate creaked mournfully 
 on one hinge. 
 
 Within were the same tokens of degeneration. 
 The furniture was more sparse and of far poorer 
 quality than of yore, for the fine old mahogany 
 pieces that had lent an air of distinction to the 
 humble sitting-room were no longer to be seen. 
 Even the honest Scotch carpet had given way to a 
 few cheap and dingy rugs. 
 
 The lone figure that sat toiling under the light 
 of a feeble lamp seemed in keeping with its sur 
 roundings. Not that Angus Craig had aged in 
 appearance during the more than two years since 
 his son had been brought into the cottage a help- 
 
 221
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 less wreck ; instead, it seemed as if he had grown 
 younger, for the new and deep lines that care had 
 set about his mouth bespoke the vigor of more 
 youthful days. But his clothing was poor and 
 worn, and his general appearance that of a man 
 who had been fighting with poverty and had lost. 
 
 Angus threw down his graver s tools with a 
 deep sigh. 
 
 "There, I ll work nae mair the nicht. My 
 auld eyes ll not stand it. For such trumpery, too. 
 Imph!" 
 
 He disdainfully surveyed the work on which he 
 had been engaged, a beautiful bit of wood-engrav 
 ing, the miniature head of one of the great com 
 posers of a past age. 
 
 "Four gude hours gane into that bawbie, an 
 they ll probably offer me a dollar for it to-morrow. 
 I ll be ower lucky if I get a dollar and a quarter." 
 
 He went to the window and peered out into the 
 white night. 
 
 "Nae signs o them," he said, and turned to put 
 a pathetically small bit of fuel on the dying fire. 
 
 As he knelt to straighten the andirons, a dull 
 clangor, like the stertorous breathingof a distressed 
 giant, came to his ears. He raised his head with 
 a proud gesture of triumph and defiance, and his 
 eyes glowed under his shaggy brows. 
 
 "Aye, thump on, day and nicht, ye everlastin 
 machines, poundin awa the heart-beats o the 
 slaves that tend ye. But ye didna drive the auld 
 mon frae his hame wi a ye er din." 
 
 A resounding knock at the outside door 
 brought the Scotchman to his feet in a hurry. 
 Then, with a great gush of cold air and a stamp- 
 
 222
 
 A PLEDGE TO THE DEAD 
 
 ing of feet, entered Joseph Langmaid and Luke 
 Ford. 
 
 Time had treated these two worthies with a 
 lenient hand. Langmaid was no more grizzled 
 nor weazened than before, and his sonorous voice 
 was even more impressive. His rapid glance 
 shifted from point to point in the room as he re 
 turned his host s greeting with a grandiloquent 
 phrase expressing confusion to capital. Then he 
 pulled out an enormous meerschaum pipe, lighted 
 it, and sat down to read a newspaper in which an 
 article of his own had that day appeared. 
 
 Ford had actually improved in two years. His 
 lank frame had filled out somewhat and he stood 
 straighter, as if prepared to meet the world in any 
 sort of combat. His old-time taciturnity had not 
 wholly left him, but it was to be noticed that when 
 he now advanced a proposition he generally com 
 pleted it, and was not afraid of giving words to the 
 radical thoughts that were in him. He had not 
 lost his love for tobacco, and was even now masti 
 cating that solacing substance with a swinging 
 movement of his powerful jaws. While waiting 
 for the completion of their usual party he took out 
 a tablet and began to write rapidly. 
 
 Silently Angus sat and watched them, gently 
 swaying back and forth in his rocking-chair. He 
 would have preferred rest and quiet to-night, but 
 it was the stated time for the "meetin ," and per 
 sonal comfort must not oppose itself to the an 
 cient habit. 
 
 Not long after the arrival of these two came 
 another knock, deferential, not to say timorous. 
 
 "Wha can that be?" said Angus. His cronies 
 were not in the habit of announcing themselves 
 
 223
 
 OA T SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 with any lack of confidence, and he was suspicious 
 of all other callers. He went to the door and 
 peered cautiously out. 
 
 "Bless my soul, but it s Geoffrey," he exclaimed, 
 petulantly. "Coom in, mon, coom in, and na 
 stand there like a stoat-in-bottle." 
 
 Thus adjured, the rotund Englishman shambled 
 into the lamp-light, followed briskly by his spouse, 
 whose black eyes snapped and whose ruddy face 
 glowed ruddily from the cold. The lady looked 
 about her, and bowed with little, jerky inclinations 
 as she was introduced to the others. 
 
 "Ye see, boys," explained the somewhat uneasy 
 Geoffrey, "the missus thought she d like to come 
 to-night. I ve told her " 
 
 "Yes, he s told me how you sit here night after 
 night and discuss problems. As far as I can see 
 you do nothing but waste time and light. I 
 thought perhaps a woman might find some thread 
 in your skein of theory that she could pull out for 
 practical use." 
 
 Thus spoke the energetic woman of affairs, 
 whom Angus Craig forthwith welcomed with a 
 gentle courtesy that made his cronies stare; they 
 little knew how the most self-assertive member of 
 the feminine clan was able to arouse tenderness 
 in the gnarly old Scot. There were many things 
 in his curiously complex inner nature that would 
 have astonished them still more, could they have 
 been possessed of some magic reading-glass. 
 
 Mrs. Fairbrother s loquacity found a pleasurable 
 outlet in this assemblage of mere men, and she 
 took woman s advantage of her superiority. Para 
 doxically, she gave her opinion as to the useless- 
 ness of talk, reminding her hearers very pointedly 
 
 224
 
 A PLEDGE TO THE DEAD 
 
 that wasted breath never coined dollars. She even 
 glanced critically about at the sorrowfully shabby 
 room, and shook her plumed head significantly. 
 
 "And you, Mr. Craig she said, effusively, 
 "the world doesn t seem to be using you very well 
 that is, judging from what Geoff used to tell me 
 of your comfortable home." 
 
 Unmindful of her abashed husband s tug at her 
 arm, Mrs. Fairbrother proceeded to take off her 
 immense fur cloak and sink into the most comfort 
 able chair she could find. Nor did she cease her 
 monologue. 
 
 "When I saw you last," she ran on, "you looked 
 fairly prosperous, but now " she shrugged her 
 shoulders with thinly veiled contempt, for she had 
 no patience with poverty. "That son of yours 
 seems to have brought you no luck." 
 
 Old Angus thin face flushed slightly, but he 
 gave no other sign of vexation. Instead, he raised 
 a warning finger. 
 
 "Hush, Mrs. Fairbrother, I beg o ye," he en 
 treated. "Philip s in the room above, an may 
 hear ye." 
 
 "I m sure it might do him good if he did," she 
 declared. But her voice lowered noticeably. 
 
 The three callers looked at one another aghast, 
 and to hide his confusion at his wife s rudeness, 
 Geoffrey ventured to ask : "How is Philip getting 
 along, Angus?" 
 
 "Weel ; verra weel," returned the old man, 
 brightening. "The doctor says he may coom 
 downstairs whenever he pleases the noo, but I ve 
 not tauld him he doesna ken " 
 
 He looked sadly about the denuded and cheer 
 less room, and a mist came over his wearied eyes. 
 
 225
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Poverty, privation, discomfort what were they 
 for him to bear ? It was only when he beheld the 
 shining opulence of the rich that he felt his gorge 
 rise, for the bitterness of sight is often more potent 
 than the bitterness of suffering. But the thought 
 that his son must find him sunk so low among his 
 fellows, stripped of the power to command a de 
 cent livelihood, cut him to the quick. 
 
 "M m," said Mrs. Fairbrother, reflectively, "so 
 he hasn t been from his room in how long has it 
 been?" 
 
 "Two years last October/ Angus replied. 
 
 As he disappeared into the kitchen to bring 
 another lamp, the woman turned to the others. 
 
 "Two years for a a blow in the head, wasn t 
 it?" she remarked, incredulously. Like poverty, 
 illness, too, aroused her suspicious antagonism. 
 
 "Now lookee here, Jane," protested her fat, 
 good-natured husband, "I told you all about it, 
 don t you know? To be sure twas an injury in 
 the head, but Philip had brain fever, too, and some 
 hurt to his spine that kept the poor chap from 
 walking. It s been a hard rub for both of em, and 
 you ought to be more considerate." 
 
 It was Mrs. Fairbrother s settled policy to re 
 ceive all marital suggestions as to her duty in any 
 particular contingency with silent contempt. So 
 she continued on the even tenor of her remarks. 
 
 "Yes, I believe you did tell me, but about that 
 time I went into that F. & B. deal " Here came 
 certain muttering which in any other than a 
 woman of some financial standing might have 
 sounded vastly like imprecations. The florid lady 
 had good reason to remember the "F. & B. deal" 
 with reviling, for by it she had lost heavily many 
 
 226
 
 A PLEDGE TO THE DEAD 
 
 thousands, rumor said. She had been led into the 
 scheme by a couple of persuasively eloquent brok 
 ers, who frankly admitted that it was a bit "off 
 color and that the people on the other end would 
 get squeezed. This description troubled Mrs. 
 Fairbrother very little, but later when she woke up 
 one morning to find herself on the "other end," 
 and "squeezed" to a very lively tune, her righteous 
 indignation knew no bounds. 
 
 In her novel state of mind she listened with 
 awakening interest to Geoffrey s accounts of the 
 meetings at Angus Craig s, where, according to 
 him, plans were being formulated as to how the 
 w r orld could be relieved from the "tyranny of great 
 wealth." She had just begun to suspect that she 
 herself stood in need of protection. 
 
 But however much she enjoyed her visit, the 
 four old cronies passed an uncomfortable evening 
 indeed. She disputed their every proposition in a 
 very loud voice, and when logic failed her, jeered 
 and pooh-poohed in a manner that admitted of no 
 adequate reply. It was not long before Ford and 
 Langmaicl retired in disgust and silent wrath. 
 Soon after, Fairbrother also rose to depart. 
 
 On the way out the hearty old fellow hurriedly 
 whispered an apology to Angus for the trouble he 
 felt he had caused. He was reassured by a pres 
 sure of the hand that told him his standing was 
 still secure. 
 
 Craig stood in the open doorway for a moment, 
 drinking in the clear, cold air. He looked up at 
 the brilliant stars with infinite longing. In their 
 cold scintillations there seemed to be more sym 
 pathy with his distressed soul than in the human 
 lights about him, mellow shafts from the great 
 
 227
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 mills by which the cottage was now engulfed. 
 Here in the open came the clang-clang of the piti 
 less machinery, loud and disturbing. Angus shut 
 the door angrily, and went back to his sitting 
 room to prepare for the night. 
 
 On the threshold he stepped back with a startled 
 cry, for there in the opposite doorway, pale and 
 thin and trembling, stood his son. 
 
 "Yes, it is I, father," Philip said, with a faint 
 smile. 
 
 "How dared ye try tae leave ye er room?" the 
 old man asked. 
 
 "I heard what that that woman said." 
 
 He staggered and would have fallen, but for the 
 two strong canes he carried. 
 
 "Please help me to a chair," he said in a thin, 
 faltering voice, so wofully changed from the reso 
 nant tones of other days. "Really, you are not 
 courteous to your visitors." 
 
 The old man s strong arms led him safely to a 
 seat. Angus looked down at him with a great 
 misgiving. 
 
 "I fear, lad, ye ll have owerdone yersel ," he ex 
 claimed. 
 
 "No ; I feel that my long vigil is nearly over, and 
 that, thanks to you and Doctor Blake, I shall soon 
 be a man among men again." 
 
 "God grant," said Angus, fervently. 
 
 To Philip s eyes, made all the keener by the 
 weary months of utter helplessness, months that 
 had quickened his spiritual and mental vision and 
 had given him a mental grasp he had never known 
 before, the altered aspect of the room told its story 
 with sad emphasis. 
 
 228
 
 A PLEDGE TO THE DEAD 
 
 "You have suft ered, father," he said, reproach 
 fully, "and yon never told me." 
 
 How could I, boy, as you as you were?" 
 
 Philip thought with gladness that the change 
 in the physical appearance of things, great as it 
 was. seemed less than the alteration in his father s 
 attitude toward himself. It was wonderful to see 
 this rugged man, who had formerly delighted to 
 play the tyrant over his son, now almost suppliant 
 before the helpless invalid. 
 
 "Tell me now, then," said Philip, "everything. 
 Oh, I am strong enough," he added, as he read 
 anxious hesitancy on his father s face. "Go on." 
 
 "Weel, then, if ye must ken an I suppose it s 
 best, for ye ken something s wrang, o course I 
 lost my place two year ago." 
 
 "How? Because of me?" 
 
 "Because o ye? Why, no, mon. What put 
 that idea into ye er head? I was accused o 
 thievin ." 
 
 "Father!" 
 
 "It s true. Some stock certeeficate it was. I 
 had engraved the plate, an it was brought back for 
 an alteration. Some impressions o the plate all 
 signed, they said, before the changes were decided 
 on -were in the package, an I returned them wi 
 the plate. Afterward, it seems, three o the cer- 
 teeficates were put on the market, an an " 
 
 The old man broke down with the recollection. 
 To an honest soul accusation is as terrible as crime 
 itself, and Angus felt anew all the agony of the stab 
 as he laid his bosom bare to his son. 
 
 "And you were accused," said Philip. "The 
 outrage of it! How dared they? They knew at 
 the plant that you couldn t do such a thing!" 
 
 229
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Oh, aye, they kenned it vveel enow or, at 
 least, I think they thocht so. But I was the only 
 mon who had touched the package, except the 
 superintendent, an he didna open it. An ye see 
 this Andrew Haven was a big customer what s 
 the matter, Philip?" 
 
 "Nothing," replied the son, whose clenched 
 hands shook nervously at the sound of the name, 
 "only a twinge. There, I m all right, again. 
 What did you say the customer s name was?" 
 
 "Andrew Haven. An strange tae say, lad, he 
 was the mon who was president o the watch com 
 pany that rewarded me so muneeficently you 
 remember for my loyalty." He laughed sar 
 donically. 
 
 Andrew Haven ! But it might be a coincidence, 
 Philip thought, for the world was made up of 
 them. He tried to steady his voice as he asked : 
 
 "What were the certificates?" 
 
 "A new issue of stock in the Onometer Com 
 pany." 
 
 It was true, then. And spite of all, it was 
 through the man he had despised and John Nor 
 ton that his honest father had been brought low. 
 How much had been blind fate and how much far- 
 seeing treachery he could not determine. The 
 blood boiled within him, weak as he was, as he 
 thought of the undeserved suffering of the man 
 who had been a tower of strength to him during 
 the days of his dependency. Yet he must learn 
 more. 
 
 "But surely they didn t dare " 
 
 "Arrest me? It might have been better if they 
 had. The story got around, an try as I might, I 
 couldna get warrk; nae engraver would hae me." 
 
 230
 
 A PLEDGE TO THE DEAD 
 
 "And it has been more than two years," said 
 Philip. "Medicines, nursing, doctors how have 
 you done it?" 
 
 For a moment he thought regretfully of the 
 large sum he had sent the Jamesons at the time 
 of the firm s tragedy, a sum whose loss had practi 
 cally impoverished him. "Was it worth while?" he 
 asked himself, as he looked at the struggling old 
 man sitting amid the wreck of his former prosper 
 ity. And the Jameson firm must have gone to the 
 wall again long ago. Yet somehow the memory 
 of the act filled him with confidence in his man 
 hood ; he, at least, was young, would soon be at 
 work again and his father should want no more. 
 
 "Weel," said Angus, "it s been an ower tough 
 fight, but I ve keepit at it." 
 
 He went to a cupboard and brought forth a 
 basket which he placed on his son s knees. 
 
 "I ve made these fripperies ye see here, an 
 sauld em in the shops, but I ve not got reech by 
 it, ye ken." 
 
 Philip s eyes moistened as he viewed the bits of 
 engraved w r ood, beautiful in themselves, but not 
 very salable, he knew. Then the softer emotion 
 was driven out by a fierce desire for retaliation. 
 Someone should be made to suffer for the foul in 
 justice that had compelled his father to earn his 
 livelihood almost as a common hawker. He 
 thanked God for the returning strength that would 
 fit him for a renewal of the battle of life, for there 
 were great things to be done. 
 
 "I might ha thocht," continued Angus, break 
 ing in upon his menial soliloquy, "that this Haven 
 was only mistaken in the number o certificates, 
 but I learned that it was he who tried tae buy this 
 
 231
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 house through the mon Holloway. But I m in it 
 yet, and, please God, in it I ll dee. . . . Does the 
 clatter annoy ye, Philip ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 For the first time it flashed through Philip s 
 mind that the scheme to defraud through public 
 officials of the state had either failed or had not 
 been attempted. He wondered that the thought 
 had not occurred to him before ; but he had been 
 so ill, so weak, so disinclined to think at all ! 
 
 Many days passed ere he wrung the whole 
 wretched truth of his father s downfall from the 
 proud old man how the little stock of money had 
 been drawn upon bit by bit until nothing re 
 mained ; how the fine mahogany pieces had one by 
 one gone to the stores of the dealers in antique 
 furniture never to return ; how the struggle for 
 subsistence had gone on night and day; how the 
 father had labored belo\v stairs in absolute silence, 
 lest the son should know that he was not away in 
 the factory. And Philip thought, with a great 
 throb of gratitude, that he had all this time been 
 living in comfort in the room sacred to the mem 
 ories of the past. 
 
 But upon this night of revelation he had learned 
 enough to feel a new impress upon his soul, the 
 conviction that duty was before him, never to 
 leave his presence until it was satisfied. Hence 
 forth the world was to be for him a fighting- 
 ground, not for riches, or honor, or glory, but for 
 the triumph of a principle. 
 
 As he lay in his welcome bed after the evening s 
 illuminating talk, he reached for the little worn 
 Bible that had been his mother s, and which lay on 
 
 232
 
 A PLEDGE TO THE DEAD 
 
 a table nearby. He raised it to his lips and kissed 
 its dingy cover. 
 
 "Mother, my mother," he said, solemnly, 
 "whose memory is sacred, though I remember you 
 not, upon this book you loved I pledge myself to 
 struggle against the wrongs of the oppressed." 
 
 A little later, old Angus, peering cautiously in, 
 found him asleep, with deep peace upon his face. 
 
 233
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 "A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE." 
 
 THE "city room" of the American News at 
 night was in no essential respects different 
 from that of any other great daily at a like 
 time. The long rectangle lined with green-shaded 
 electric lights ; the rows of desks and tables at most 
 of which men in all styles of raiment from shirt 
 sleeves to dress coat were pounding furiously on 
 typewriters; the sinuous tubes of brass, from 
 which, with a saturnine chuckle, belched little cart 
 ridge-shaped boxes from time to time ; the rushing 
 and squabbling of office-boys ; the thick blue gusts 
 of tobacco smoke; the laughter and badinage of 
 the groups of temporarily unemployed ; the ner 
 vous stammering of the battery of telegraphic in 
 struments in the room adjoining, where under a 
 huge central light a dozen or more men were 
 seated around a long table using blue pencils, scis 
 sors and paste-brushes on dispatches of many sizes 
 and colors all these physical attributes of the 
 enormous and multifarious activity of a metro 
 politan newspaper were as they had been for years 
 and would be for years to come. 
 
 In one corner of the large room, behind a 
 ground glass partition, sat Maurice Rosenfeld, the 
 city editor of the News. He was a slim, sallow, 
 fragile man, with eyes like ferrets and a habit of 
 wiping his glasses with a bit of flannel whenever 
 
 234
 
 "A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE" 
 
 he became excited. Just now he was in earnest 
 consultation with Brice, one of his "star" special 
 men, on ways and means for the morrow. 
 
 "There s no use talking, Brice," he said in his 
 thin, nasal voice, "we ve got to brace up on local 
 scares. The old man was in to-day, kicking like 
 a steer, and I know he means business." 
 
 "Well, how about Chinatown?" ventured Brice. 
 
 "Rats! Dead mouldy; done to death. Show 
 more acumen, old man." 
 
 "Then why not make a howl about an open cess 
 pool I know of on 239th Street, back of a lot of 
 tenement houses? Work the typhoid racket and 
 all that sort of thing. Paper for the people, you 
 know." 
 
 "Well, that might go, if you do it in good 
 shape," returned Rosenfeld not very enthusiasti 
 cally. "Be sure and find out, however, whether 
 the land is owned by any advertiser or friend of 
 the old man s. If it isn t, bang em good and 
 hard. Soak the board of health incidentally; 
 Jones, the chairman, called the old man an in- 
 Hated ass at the last meeting." 
 
 "I m on," returned the reporter, cheerily. "You 
 can bet it ll be a good story." 
 
 "It ll have to be," said Rosenfeld, grimly, "or it 
 won t go." 
 
 No sooner had Brice left the little den than the 
 managing editor of the paper waddled in. John 
 Wesley Landor was a mountain of flesh endowed 
 with a keen brain, a sensitive nature and an abso 
 lute aversion to his profession when out of the 
 office. "It s like opium," he said, "you can t drop 
 it, but how you do curse it when the spell is off." 
 
 235
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 He had curling yellow hair and a heavy imperial 
 that gave him a distinctly martial air. 
 
 He had come to tell his city editor that there 
 was an immense "jam" on the paper. He liked to 
 enforce his orders in person, though he might have 
 used the telephone. 
 
 "You ll have to cut everything to the bone to 
 night, Rosey, he said, genially. "The counting 
 room notified me at the eleventh hour, of course 
 that the Winslow elephant page ad of their 
 confounded anniversary sale goes to-night or 
 dered by wire." 
 
 "Of course," returned the city editor. "Blamed 
 old shop keeper always waits till news is thicker 
 than sand fleas." 
 
 "That s just it, my boy. Guess he had a tip on 
 that World s Bank scoop. Winslow and the old 
 man are pretty chummy just now, and Winslow s 
 clever enough to advertise on a day when the 
 paper s sure to have a big run. Hang the ele 
 phant ! How much of a reader is supposed to 
 go with the beast ?" 
 
 "Column and a half." 
 
 "H mph ! Rosey, if I ever own a paper, I ll give 
 advertisers just what they pay for no more and 
 no less. I ll " 
 
 "If you ever own a paper, Landor," interrupted 
 Rosen feld, in his cutting tones, "you ll do as all 
 the rest do. You ll probably be mighty glad to 
 get business on any terms." 
 
 To this the managing editor made no reply, but 
 went to a sharp wall-hook on which the evening s 
 proofs were hanging, and turned the long slips 
 over with the dexterity of an expert. 
 
 "Better nip this murder yarn into a column," 
 236
 
 "A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE" 
 
 he said. "Anyway, it s a pretty tame theory of 
 the crime. Who did it?" 
 
 "Dalrymple." 
 
 "H mph! His imagination s petering out. 
 Stopped drinking, hasn t he?" 
 
 "Yes, he s going to be married." 
 
 "So ? No time for imagination, then ; must face 
 cold facts. Old Thatcher, of the St. Louis Inde 
 pendent used to say to me when I was a reporter 
 on that blessed rag: Young man, don t be in a 
 hurry to make your best girl permanent. And I 
 wasn t, but " The ponderous man sighed 
 gently; there was a romance connected with 
 Landor in some way, though none knew exactly 
 how. 
 
 "This story about the heresy charges might be 
 boiled into a stick," he resumed, still turning the 
 proofs. "People care very little about the intellec 
 tual sins of the clergy. If the parson had done 
 something morally heretical, it would be different. 
 And this well?" 
 
 The question was for a smartly uniformed boy 
 who had entered and stood respectfully by his side. 
 
 "Mr. Price wants to see you at once, sir." 
 
 "Very well ; you may go. Didn t know the old 
 man was coming in to-night, Rosey. Wonder 
 what crotchet he s got now." 
 
 Landor stepped to the elevator, and was carried 
 high into the steel tower in one corner of the great 
 building, where was the luxurious suite of offices 
 occupied by Orville W. Price, the man whose 
 slightest whim dictated what should be said and 
 served to as his business letter-heads asserted 
 "Over Twelve Million People in the Twenty-two 
 Leading Cities of the United States." 
 
 237
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Landor never answered a summons to the steel 
 tower but with a sense of dread. He knew that 
 one day the call would come to him for the last 
 time, and that someone else, perhaps a man who 
 was now the least-considered of his subordinates, 
 would reign in his stead. He knew that his own 
 predecessor had fallen from his very faithfulness 
 in carrying out the policy of Price. According to 
 instructions he had attacked a corporation particu 
 larly flagrant in its disregard of public rights. So 
 brilliant and effective had been the onslaught that 
 the corporation had been aroused from its cus 
 tomary indifference, and had fought back. Such 
 powerful and financial interests had been arrayed 
 against Price that he had been forced not only to 
 abandon the antagonistic policy of the paper, but 
 to give over a peace offering in the shape of the 
 official head of his zealous second in command. 
 
 Landor, however, saw no signs of any such 
 untoward event to-night in the clear brown eyes 
 of his chief, eyes whose smiling light generally 
 blinded those who saw him to the selfish grossness 
 of the lower portion of his face. 
 
 "Good evening, Landor," said Price, cordially. 
 "I see by the proofs that we ve a fine layout for the 
 morning. Too bad Winslow s big ad will crowd 
 us. But business ahem is business, you know." 
 
 Landor was certain that he had not been sum 
 moned to hear encomiums on the prospective con 
 tents of the morrow s paper. It was not Price s 
 custom to waste time on the amenities of journal 
 ism with his own men. He awaited something of 
 a critical nature, and his judgment was soon veri 
 fied. 
 
 238
 
 "A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE" 
 
 "By the way, who wrote this editorial?" asked 
 the chief. Landor glanced at the proof. 
 
 "Mr. Phelps." 
 
 "I thought I recognized his bludgeon style. A 
 good writer ahem but lacks tact. Uses a 
 sledge-hammer when a rapier would do as well, 
 and not leave such an ahem unpleasant 
 wound." 
 
 The editorial in question was a violent attack on 
 the governor of the state for his action in pardon 
 ing an official who had betrayed his trust for 
 money, and in refusing to entertain a plea for 
 clemency toward a friendless wretch whose crime 
 had been provoked by the treachery of his associ 
 ates and its resultant poverty. Landor had 
 thought it well done, and especially adapted to the 
 popular tone of the News. 
 
 Price read the editorial again with silent move 
 ments of his thick lips. 
 
 "Yes," he said, "very strong, very strong, in 
 deed. And true, too. This sort of thing helps the 
 News with the people. But ahem well, Lan 
 dor, as you know, the governor, although he s not 
 on our side of the political fence, did us a great 
 favor last winter. And ahem there s consider 
 able advertising to be done by the council on the 
 new codification laws. So I think we " 
 
 "That editorial is going to be killed, " thought 
 Landor, and he looked over the proofs of standing 
 matter to select something innocuous to take its 
 place. Price divined his intention at once. 
 
 "No, I don t think I ll kill it," he said, with a 
 smile. "It s too good to be lost. It points a 
 moral the people like ; clemency for the influential, 
 jail for the friendless. But. Landor, we ll com- 
 
 239
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 promise. Phelps has headed it Gubernatorial 
 Justice, with Justice m quotation marks. Just 
 have the quotes taken off. That ll take the sting 
 out of it." 
 
 A little buzzing sound was heard, and a disc 
 marked "St. Louis" showed in the annunciator on 
 Price s desk. The great editor unhooked the tele 
 phone receiver and pressed it to his ear. 
 
 "Eh? Defalcation?" he said to his far-off sub 
 ordinate. "How much? Good! Play it up 
 strong! Eh? Why, first page, of course, with 
 five-column scare head, matter hand-set. And 
 telegraph two thousand words, rush." 
 
 "The rascally thief," exclaimed Price, turning 
 to Landor. "We must make an example of him 
 for the public good. That man five years ago 
 blocked one of the best newspaper deals I ever got 
 hold of, and forced me to pay double to carry it 
 through. But the newspaper man s turn always 
 comes, you know, Landor. Sooner or later every 
 man in the world wants us either to put something 
 into our paper or to keep something out. Then it 
 all depends on how he has treated us." 
 
 While his chief was telephoning further instruc 
 tions, Landor pressed a button for a boy, and sent 
 to the composing room the proof of the "Justice" 
 editorial with the quotation marks expunged, 
 wondering the while how far the mere matter of 
 punctuation could alter a sentiment or ameliorate 
 an attack. He remembered having read some 
 where that a war had once arisen from the use of 
 a "lower case" letter in a state document where a 
 "capital" should have been, and he decided that his 
 astute chief, being very much of a diplomat, knew 
 what he was about.
 
 "A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE" 
 
 Price, having finished his long-distance editing, 
 picked up a proof headed "ad People s Column," 
 and handed it to the managing editor. 
 
 "Do you know anything of the author of the 
 letter I have marked?" he asked. 
 
 Landor glanced at the caption, "Man s Right to 
 Manhood," and at the signature. 
 
 "No. I do not," he replied. "Fillebrown is 
 handling the People s Column now. He may 
 know." 
 
 "If he doesn t, ask him to find out. I ve noticed 
 several strong letters signed by that name. Ahem, 
 what " 
 
 "Craig, Philip Craig," replied Landor, referring 
 to the proof-slip. 
 
 "Ah, yes. They read mighty well. Just the 
 sort of stuff the people like. By the way, have that 
 one set in larger type, and put a two-column head 
 over it." 
 
 "Yes," said the managing editor. He was im 
 patient to be gone, for he knew that pressing 
 duties were piling up for him at each moment s 
 delay. 
 
 "And when Fillebrown finds out his address, 
 hire him to write a series of articles on kindred 
 topics every other day, say." 
 
 "Signed?" 
 
 "Of course. The signature takes the curse off 
 ahem in some quarters, while with the people it 
 is much the same thing. This Craig s name has a 
 familiar sound, but it isn t likely that I have ever 
 known him. Men who write for newspapers usu 
 ally do not amount to much of course I mean 
 men who write gratis." 
 
 241
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 IN A NEW FIELD. 
 
 THE morning after Philip had made his start 
 ling appearance downstairs dawned cloud 
 less and serene. The mellow radiance of the 
 sun against his window-shades flooded the room 
 with a soft light and woke him early even before 
 his father was stirring. 
 
 As soon as he heard the old man moving about, 
 he called him to his bedside. 
 
 "When did Dr. Blake say I should be out?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "In twa months or sae." 
 
 Months! And he was impatient to be up and 
 doing at once, to prove to his father that gratitude 
 was not a mere matter of words or of sentiment. 
 
 Later he occupied some of his time with writing 
 letters on topics of vital human interest for the 
 "People s Column" of the American News. He 
 had the satisfaction of finding his little essays in 
 print pretty often, and that morning was surprised 
 and delighted to see his letter occupying a place 
 of honor on the editorial page, with the additional 
 distinction of larger type than usual and a two- 
 column head. "Man s Right to Manhood" cer 
 tainly looked impressive, and he felt that he was 
 not vainglorious in believing that its treatment 
 reached the mark for which he had aimed. 
 
 That succcs d cstime put new thoughts into 
 242
 
 IN A NEW FIELD 
 
 Philip s head. lie was like a wanderer in the for 
 est wilds who suddenly comes across a blazed path, 
 leading he knows not and cares not whither, but 
 surely to some point of vantage. When the even 
 ing lamp was lighted in the upper room, and 
 Angus came for a chat, as he always did nowadays, 
 the son said : 
 
 "Father, I am going to work." 
 
 "Warrk?" echoed the old man, incredulously. 
 "Philip, mon, ye can scarcely stand." 
 
 True enough, but I can sit here and write." 
 
 "Write?" 
 
 "Yes; for a livelihood, I mean." 
 
 "What ll ye write? Stories? Plays?" 
 
 "My bent isn t that way, I m afraid, father. I ve 
 no imagination. I thought I had it once, but it 
 was simply a dream. No, I shall write facts, facts. 
 Nothing else appeals to me." 
 
 He spoke with vehemence, and his pale face 
 colored a little. His father looked at him curi 
 ously. 
 
 "Ye ll find facts a poor leevin , Philip," he said. 
 "Facts are ower hard to sell we a have more 
 than we want in real life." 
 
 "I don t expect to do exactly what you think," 
 said the son, earnestly. "I shall perhaps try jour 
 nalism " 
 
 "That s not facts, surely," interrupted Angus, 
 drily. 
 
 "Or maybe statistical work. But I prefer writ- 
 ing." 
 
 "Weel, ye ve got a gude way o expressin yer- 
 sel , lad, as I ken by ye er articles in the News 
 aye, I have read em an ye get fair at the truth. 
 
 243
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 But ye must do better yet tae sell ye er wares. 
 Can ye do t?" 
 
 For answer, Philip drew some closely written 
 pages from a table drawer at his side, and began 
 to read. 
 
 The theme was a newspaper clipping telling of 
 the plan adopted by certain restaurants in response 
 to the plea of the charitably disposed. Each mid 
 night there was a distribution to the poor of the 
 remnants of food from the tables of the more for 
 tunate, a few cents being charged to raise the 
 scheme above the plane, of absolute pauperism. 
 The newspaper went on to say that the dire dis 
 tress now prevalent had given rise to strange and 
 grimly suggestive scenes. Baby boys and girls, 
 tottering old men and women, waited for hours 
 every night in the long line of those who came 
 with scarcely more patience than that of famished 
 wolves, to spend their little daily all for something 
 that might sustain life. 
 
 Upon this foundation Philip erected a structure 
 of such logical force and direct strength of style 
 that his father was greatly interested. Growing 
 respect mingled with wonder in his gaze, as he 
 rested his chin in the palm of his hand and gently 
 rocked, as was his custom. 
 
 The essay deplored the situation that made 
 worthy people practically beggars, and censured 
 the state of society in \vhich able-bodied men were 
 unable to find work sufficient to keep soul and 
 body together. It was temperate, but forceful ; 
 sternly condemnatory, yet not fanatical. It was 
 not until the closing paragraph that Philip did 
 more than paint the picture and trace the growth 
 of conditions that had made it possible. Then his 
 
 244
 
 IN A NEW FIELD 
 
 voice took on a new ring of vibrant emotion which 
 struck fire from his father s soul and filled the old 
 man with great joy. 
 
 "I contend," read Philip, "that every man born 
 into the world has an inalienable right to the op 
 portunity to earn his livelihood. It may be char 
 ity to give though I think not true charity; it is 
 injustice to forbid him to earn it. All over the 
 Christian world prayers go up with each morning s 
 sun : give us this day our daily bread. Who are 
 the us ? How many of those who pray care 
 whether the men they meet in the street are hun 
 gry or not ; whether they have work, or cannot find 
 it? How many rise from their knees determined 
 to do what they can to better social conditions so 
 that he who would labor, may? This spectacle of 
 feeding the poor from the garbage barrels of the 
 rich is a shame to manhood, a deterrent to mater 
 nity. "What mother knows to what depths of 
 shame her child may fall in a community where 
 honest toil will not command honestly earned 
 daily bread ?" 
 
 There was a long silence after the last earnest 
 interrogation. At last old Angus looked up with 
 a grateful light in his eyes. 
 
 "Ye never talked like this before, Philip," he 
 said, quietly. 
 
 "I never felt like this before," replied the son. 
 "The needs of humanity scarcely touched me. 
 But since T have lain here, helpless, and have read, 
 I have thought." 
 
 "Ay, the bukes," thought the elder man. "And, 
 too, he has heard us talk. God be praised, he s 
 begun tae see the licht at last." 
 
 The next day Angus was startled by a re- 
 245
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 sounding knock on the street-door. Reconnoiter- 
 ing with his usual caution, he found his caller to 
 be a tall, fresh-faced, boyish young man with pleas 
 ant gray eyes, and a smile that disclosed teeth of 
 radiant whiteness. 
 
 "Does Mr. Philip Craig live here?" he asked. 
 
 "Aye, he does, lad. What ll be ye er pleasure 
 of him?" 
 
 The young man handed Angus a rather flam 
 boyant card on which was printed a miniature fac 
 simile of the first page of the American News. 
 Across this was stamped in red ink, "Mr. George 
 Wilkinson." 
 
 "I very much want to see Mr. Craig," said the 
 reporter. "You see, our city editor, Mr. Rosen- 
 feld, heard Mr. Landor, the managing editor, ask 
 ing about Mr. Craig s address, and he remembered 
 a story the News printed three years ago about 
 a Craig cottage being hemmed in by mills. He 
 looked it up, arid sure enough it said you had a 
 son named Philip, who was a big capitalist, or con 
 nected with one. He wondered at that, consider 
 ing the tone of the letters the News has been 
 printing, and thought I d better get an interview 
 with Mr. Craig. It s my first real decent assign 
 ment," he added, wistfully, as he saw Angus face 
 harden. "All I ve had so far have been little mis 
 erable fires and meetings of women s clubs. I ve 
 got a good chance to make myself solid now. And 
 besides, I ve a letter from our managing editor 
 for Mr. Craig." 
 
 "Coom upstairs, then, lad," said the old man. 
 "Ye ll find my son an invalid, but I think he ll gi 
 ye whatever ye want." 
 
 Philip was attracted by the youthful enthusiasm 
 246
 
 IN A NEW FIELD 
 
 and honest simplicity of young Mr. Wilkinson, 
 who was still at that stage of newspaper work 
 , where a notebook and pencil are very much in evi 
 dence. He was willing to be "interviewed," and 
 gave the reporter much matter that the latter s 
 instinct, crude as it was, told him would make a 
 good "story." 
 
 "You say you are new at the business, Mr. 
 Wilkinson," said Craig, when the more ceremoni 
 ous part of their talk was over. "How do you 
 like it?" 
 
 "It s glorious," replied the young man, his face 
 telling of his genuine enthusiasm. "It s a great 
 thing to feel that what you write is read by thou 
 sands and thousands of people everywhere." 
 
 "But they do not know you." 
 
 "Not yet," replied the boy, hopefully, "but they 
 will by and by, if my stuff s good enough. And I 
 mean to make it good enough. When I m a star 
 man I shall be allowed to sign my stories. It s 
 bound to come some time." 
 
 "I trust it will," said Philip, earnestly. "You 
 are made of the right stuff." 
 
 Just before leaving, Wilkinson handed Philip 
 the letter. With much wonderment he broke the 
 seal and read : 
 
 Mr. Philip Craig, 
 
 Dear Sir: I am authorized by Mr. Orville W. 
 Price, the editor and proprietor of the American 
 News, to ask if you will furnish his paper with 
 three letters a week on topics similar to those you 
 have been discussing in the "People s Column" of 
 the Mews. For each letter fifteen dollars will be 
 
 247
 
 CW SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 paid. Kindly advise me, through Mr. Wilkinson, 
 whether this proposition meets with your ap 
 proval. 
 
 Very truly, 
 
 John Wesley Landor, 
 
 Managing Editor. 
 
 Philip s heart leaped with joy, as he realized 
 that his days of dependence were over. Not only 
 would he no longer be a burden on his father, but 
 he would at last be a factor in the world for the 
 cause of the people with whom he had sworn to 
 cast his lot. 
 
 "Tell Mr. Landor," he said to the reporter, 
 "that I accept, and will begin work at once." 
 
 "I will do so, sir," replied the young man. 
 "And I want to thank you for your kindness. It 
 may mean much to me, and I shall not forget it." 
 
 It was not long before Philip became a regularly 
 constituted member of the debating society of 
 Angus front room, and he soon grew to be re 
 garded as its leader. Fluency of speech came to 
 him, as facility in writing had done, almost with 
 out effort. His logic often proved too much for 
 the hot generalizations of the others, and of Luke 
 Ford in particular. 
 
 "Tell ye what," observed that lank individual to 
 Langmaid, as they were walking home one night 
 after Philip had succeeded in demolishing a pet 
 theory of his, "it s devilish strange how young 
 Craig comes it over me. If he said I was a darned 
 oyster and talked over the subject ten minutes, I 
 believe I d be lookin round to see what had be 
 come of my shell." 
 
 By nervous intensity of work Philip strove to 
 "248
 
 IN A NEW FIELD 
 
 throw the veil of forgetfulness over the past. One 
 day his father referred to his old life, and was met 
 by a request, almost stern enough to be a com 
 mand, that he consider that topic not to be dis 
 cussed. Yet he could not so order his mind. The 
 face and voice of Helen Norton dominated his 
 dreams and forced themselves into his waking 
 hours. He wondered what had become of her. 
 what friends were now surrounding her, whether 
 but that was torture. He now knew that had 
 fate not struck him clown on that terrible day, he 
 would have given up the fight for nothing short 
 of a personal rejection. Then would come the 
 horrible thought that there might have been some 
 mistake; yet, again, young Bayles was absolutely 
 trustworthy. 
 
 Perhaps the most agonizing fear of a true lover 
 is that his lady shall think him a weakling, and this 
 came to Philip with especial force, and often gave 
 him no peace. Notwithstanding her peremptory 
 dismissal of him, would she not think him a 
 recreant cur to abandon her so easily? Was not 
 that the way of women to freeze, yet expect to 
 be thawed ? Pie had no hope that she could have 
 heard of his misfortune. If she had worse yet, 
 for she had neither been to see him,, nor sent him 
 a single word. Altogether it was a long and a 
 dark path he and memory trod together, and he 
 turned to his new work with all the gratitude of a 
 starving man who is given food. 
 
 For several months after this he \vas compelled 
 to keep within doors, for the doctor had been 
 over-sanguine in his predictions. But at last came 
 a glowing and gracious day in September when he 
 
 249
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 was taken for a long drive into the country. The 
 joy of life came back to him ; the breath of nature 
 was like a magic tonic, in his lungs. Thereafter his 
 recovery was rapid, and by the approach of winter 
 he walked among men once more, as stalwart and 
 as energetic as any. 
 
 250
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 ACROSS A HUMAN SEA. 
 
 THE big policeman who stood at the intersec 
 tion of one. of New York s crowded cross- 
 streets and Broadway raised his hand, palm 
 out, against the chaffeur of a heavy auto-car, and 
 at once the vehicle came to a stop. The chaffeur 
 dismounted and spoke to the occupants of his con 
 veyance. One of them, in turn, alighted and went 
 to the window of a similar car just behind. 
 
 At the aperture appeared the stern face of John 
 Norton, more seamed with lines of care and still 
 more hard and expressionless than in the days 
 when he had fought for and won recognition from 
 the city s greatest. 
 
 "What s the trouble, Neilson?" he asked with 
 an irritated air. "What s the delay about? Has 
 your motor broken down?" 
 
 The handsome young man, still bearing the 
 appearance of the trained athlete, shrugged his 
 broad shoulders. 
 
 "No, but the police say that it will be impossible 
 to cross Broadway for hours on account of the 
 parade." 
 
 "H mph, that s pleasant. What parade?" 
 
 "Labor Day, Mr. Drexel says; I confess I had 
 almost forgotten there was such a thing." 
 
 This remark was not so flippant as it sounded, 
 for Ward Neilson and his wife, who had been Alice 
 
 251
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Drexel of the dark and passionate eyes, had just 
 landed from an ocean liner after two years of 
 European travel. 
 
 "Labor Day, eh?" sneered Norton. "And to 
 declare their own rights it is necessary, I suppose, 
 to interfere with the rights of others, as usual." 
 
 "The only way to get to the station, my chaf- 
 feur says," continued Neilson, "is to go up as far 
 as I25th St." 
 
 "Infernal nuisance," growled Norton. 
 
 "But we can reach the side entrance to the Rot 
 terdam, where my father-in-law has apartments. 
 He and Mrs. Drexel suggest that we go there for 
 luncheon and then see what develops." 
 
 "What do you say, Harriet?" said Norton to his 
 wife, whose sweet face was now framed by gray 
 hair that spoke rather too emphatically of the 
 touch of time. 
 
 "Whatever you please, John," she replied. 
 
 "And you, Helen?" 
 
 "I don t care." 
 
 John Norton was partly annoyed, partly pained 
 at the listless indifference of his daughter s words. 
 But he merely said quietly to Neilson : 
 
 "Very well, Ward, we ll go to the Rotterdam, if 
 these these parading gentlemen will permit." 
 
 But little did this foremost financier of the world 
 reck of the marching hosts of labor, as the auto 
 car slowly made its tortuous way to the great 
 hotel. It was his fair-haired daughter, leaning 
 against the cushioned back of the seat opposite, 
 who filled his mind and heart. So like her old 
 self, and yet so subtly different, he thought with a 
 sigh. Her outward beauty was as fresh, as fra 
 grant, as youthful as ever; but the old animation 
 
 252
 
 ACROSS A HUMAN SEA 
 
 that leaped forward toward whatever was sympa 
 thetic and appealing to her nature was visible no 
 more. 
 
 It had been nearly eighteen months since Nor 
 ton had seen Helen, for she had been abroad with 
 the Neilsons, at whose wedding she had been a 
 bridesmaid. Aiice Drexel had been her only inti 
 mate friend among the young women of her ac 
 quaintance, and some time after that discerning 
 and sympathetic girl had become the wife of Ward 
 Neilson, she had earnestly entreated Helen, some 
 thing of whose story she knew, to cross and join 
 them at their villa on the Riviera. After that they 
 had traveled in Egypt and Palestine, and their 
 liking for one another had developed into warm 
 and lasting affection. 
 
 To-day Norton thought he detected in his 
 daughter that mysterious something that had so 
 alarmed his wife five years before. At that time ill- 
 health had been feared, and Helen was taken to 
 eminent specialists, who assured her parents, at 
 round figures, that the girl was in perfect physical 
 condition. One of them, more skilful or perhaps 
 more honest than the rest, had hinted that some 
 mental burden weighed heavy on her heart, but 
 this Norton scouted as unworthy of credence or 
 of his daughter. 
 
 He knew that the blighting of her first romance 
 was a severe blow, but it was a first romance, and 
 such things were easily forgotten. 
 
 But he wished that Helen had made some pro 
 test, had exhibited her old pretty wilfulness. A 
 revolt he could quell, but dull silence disarmed 
 him. She had not spoken to him of Craig, nor 
 had she mentioned his name even to her mother 
 
 253
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 since that day when her father s decision had been 
 announced. 
 
 He now remembered that he had thought it 
 strange at first, but had attributed it to some 
 vagary of a young girl s heart, for which there was 
 no accounting. When he learned, some time after 
 it occurred, of the accident to Philip, through the 
 Rev. Mr. Bentley, and was told that the young 
 man s life was despaired of, he decided that Helen 
 must be removed from the city. He feared, he 
 knew not what, but chiefly that the girl might, if 
 she learned the truth, perform some quixotic ac 
 tion that would undo the work of months. 
 
 So on the plea of his wife s ill-health, Norton 
 had sent his family to one of his estates on an 
 island off the coast of Florida early in the winter 
 following the break with Craig. Mrs. Norton, 
 fond as she was of her husband, was glad to go on 
 Helen s account. The discerning eyes of a good 
 mother can pierce to the heart of her child, even 
 though confidence be withheld and well meant dis 
 simulation strive to conceal emotion. A good 
 mother s heart pulsates in unison with her child s, 
 and its sympathies are certain because the instincts 
 of motherhood are infallible. 
 
 Harriet Norton was not lulled into confidence 
 by appearances; she knew that Helen s love 
 wound was no surface scratch, self-healing in little 
 time. Had the girl invited confidence she would 
 have sought to console her, and might, even, for 
 the first time in her life, have dared to dispute her 
 husband s will and have tried to ascertain whether, 
 after all, an injustice had not been done. 
 
 Sometimes during their stay in Florida, the 
 mother was tempted to broach the subject, but 
 
 254
 
 ACROSS A HUMAN SEA 
 
 something in Helen s manner awed her into con 
 tinued silence. She felt as if one dear to her 
 daughter had died, leaving sorrow too deep to be 
 even touched by mere human words. 
 
 From Florida they had gone to the great ranch 
 in the Northwest for the summer, where Helen 
 appeared to enjoy the free, out-door life of the 
 plains. The girl had ridden hard and far every 
 day, yet not even the excitement of long gallops 
 had brought back the old exuberance of spirits. 
 Yet she was cheerful and sweet-natured, as always, 
 and at last the mother began to believe that her 
 imagination had deluded her, and that, after all, 
 the loss of animal vivacity was but the outcome of 
 the transformation from youth to womanhood. 
 
 They bad spent little time in New York for 
 several seasons, and then had come the trip to 
 Europe. This journeying through the delights of 
 the old world both Norton and his wife believed 
 to be a perfect cure for Helen, for her letters were 
 filled with animated descriptions of her sight-see 
 ing, without the slightest touch of sadness or any 
 thing akin to regret. 
 
 But to see the girl herself after it all, was to 
 bring back the old perturbation to John Norton, 
 and he was glad when the hotel was reached, and 
 the party was settled in the splendid rooms of the 
 Drexels on the second story, facing Broadway. 
 Surely these people would animate Helen and 
 make her home-coming a festal affair. Old 
 Drexel was a merry little gentleman, a dispenser 
 of bons-mots as well as an expert bon-vivant, while 
 his wife was a motherly soul who radiated cheer 
 fulness wherever she went. The Neilsons were as 
 happy as larks at their return, and Helen must 
 
 255
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 catch something of their infectious gaiety, Norton 
 thought. 
 
 Luncheon was served in a room overlooking 
 the street, and to the pleasant jingle of glass and 
 silver was added the martial strains of many bands, 
 the measured cadence of marching feet and the 
 lusty, deep-throated cheers of thousands of men 
 bent on giving the city a hint of their strength on 
 this their especial holiday. 
 
 "I suppose that s for some particularly Na 
 poleonic hod-carrier," observed Norton with his 
 saturnine smile, as a great shout vibrated against 
 the walls of the building. 
 
 "No," replied Neilson from his seat next the 
 window, "that s for a man who seems to have just 
 reached the reviewing stand. It looks like the 
 governor." 
 
 "Is the stand here?" asked Mr. Drexel, his 
 mouth full of an especially excellent pate. 
 "Really, I apologize; I didn t know it when I 
 asked you here. These estimable fellows make so 
 much noise that I can t taste this course." 
 
 "It s just across the Plaza in the Park," said 
 Neilson, shading his eyes. Another roar went up. 
 "Yes, it is the governor. He s bowing in every 
 direction." 
 
 "It s a great thing to be so popular," observed 
 handsome Mrs. Neilson. 
 
 "Especially on election day," added Norton. 
 "If it weren t for politics, there d be no labor day 
 parades." 
 
 "Nor labor organizations either, I daresay," 
 observed Neilson, with a smile. "The ballot-box 
 gives them their power." 
 
 256
 
 ACROSS A HUMAN SEA 
 
 "Which they don t know how to use, Neilson." 
 
 "But they may learn, and then, what?" 
 
 Norton made no reply, but softly jingled the 
 loose change in his pocket. And those who could 
 read him knew what he meant by that. For him 
 there was no power on earth that could not be 
 quelled and tamed by money. There was nothing 
 to fear so long as gold glittered and men could 
 see it. 
 
 Luncheon over, Alice Neilson beckoned to her 
 husband, who went to her side with the courtly 
 devotion that always marked his treatment of her. 
 He smiled and raised his eyebrows as she whis 
 pered to him. 
 
 "Do you, really?" he asked. 
 
 She nodded, and he laughed aloud. 
 
 "Come now, Ward, what s the joke?" de 
 manded his father-in-law. "It s a crime to make a 
 secret of anything funny, I say/ - 
 
 "What do you suppose this young w T oman, who 
 has traveled all through Europe and hob-nobbed 
 with about all the royalty worth mentioning, wants 
 now?" 
 
 "Don t know, Ward," said Drexel, "but it s safe 
 betting she gets it, whatever it is." 
 
 The others looked and spoke their curiosity. 
 
 "What docs she want?" said the sweet voice of 
 Mrs. Norton. 
 
 "Well, she wants to see the American laboring 
 man on parade." 
 
 "That is simple, Alice," called out Helen from 
 the window, where she had been looking out with 
 a corner of the curtain held back. "There s a wide 
 balcony here, and we can put out chairs and be 
 very comfortable." 
 
 257
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Norton and Drexel excused themselves for their 
 cigars, but Neilson would not quit his wife even 
 for the blandishments of tobacco. 
 
 "I ll stay and make sure that none of the ladies 
 elopes with a knight-errant in tall hat and red 
 sash," he explained. 
 
 From the balcony the part) could see the pro 
 cession far down Broadway, as it rolled up to them 
 in great waves of color like the undulations of 
 gigantic bands of variegated ribbon. At closer 
 range these masses became companies of men 
 dressed in the garb of their respective trades, over 
 whom floated banners of all the hues of the rain 
 bow. Now and then huge drays came lumbering 
 past, bearing the most picturesque features of the 
 procession : the floats on which toil was illustrated 
 by actual example. Here were the blazing forges 
 and clanking anvils of the smiths ; there the whirr 
 of a monster printing press spitting out its thou 
 sands of perfected newspapers in the hour; again, 
 the brick caverns of the bakers, with their attend 
 ant sprites in immaculate white. 
 
 All these things were immensely interesting 
 and novel to the two girls on the balcony, and 
 even Neilson had to admit that labor could pre 
 sent as fascinating a picture to the world, when it 
 chose, as the bedecked men whose business is to 
 kill. 
 
 AJice leaned over the balcony rail, her dark eyes 
 glowing and her red lips parted with excitement. 
 A splendid lot of fellows, steel workers, in red 
 shirts, gray slouch hats and high boots, were pass 
 ing, keeping step to the music of a famous band. 
 The perfection of their physical manhood, some 
 thing akin to that of her husband, appealed 
 
 258
 
 ACROSS A HUMAN SEA 
 
 strongly to Alice s artistic nature; the band music, 
 too, was immensely inspiring, a strong pulsating 
 tune she hud never heard before. She could not 
 refrain from clapping her pretty hands. 
 
 "Why don t you applaud, Ward?" she ex 
 claimed, excitedly. "Why, they re just magnifi 
 cent! And that music what is the air?" 
 
 None knew except Mrs. Norton. 
 
 It s an old song of the great civil war, I be 
 lieve," she said. "I think it was Tramp, Tramp, 
 Tramp, the Boys are Marching. 
 
 "Splendid !" cried Alice Neilson, "and it fits 
 them, too." 
 
 Now the great crowd, packed in dense ranks 
 on every available space, the sidewalks, the square, 
 the park, the doorsteps, surging to and fro with 
 that awful human momentum which arises no one 
 knows how, and ends often in death, claimed the 
 attention of the people in the balcony. Far over 
 toward the reviewing stand they could see a tumul 
 tuous swelling of the mass of bodies, and all at 
 once the feeble rope barrier gave way against the 
 force of those far behind. They saw an angry 
 policeman raise his club and bring it down heavily 
 on the head of a fair-haired youth who had been 
 thrust forward by a power no man living could 
 have withstood. 
 
 "Oh, shame!" cried Alice Neilson, hotly. 
 That boy!" 
 
 The hot-headed officer would have struck again, 
 but that a deep and sullen growl from the crowd, 
 and a sudden crouching backward as of an animal 
 ready to spring, warned him of his danger. More 
 than once of recent years had the smouldering 
 resentment of a crowd burst into furious flame in 
 
 259
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 this very city of New York, and at less provocation 
 than now. The policeman sheathed his stick, 
 friends took care of his victim, and the incident 
 was closed. 
 
 But its effect on the watchers from the Rotter 
 dam was not lost. Neilson, who had noted the 
 episode carefully, stroking his fair mustache 
 thoughtfully the while, was the first to speak. 
 
 "Did you see how the crowd resented that?" he 
 said to Drexel, who had returned from his cigar. 
 "A little knot of them sprang into fury like a mad 
 dened beast. Some day they " But what it was 
 he thought he foresaw he confided only to his 
 mustache. 
 
 On swept the throng of marching men for many 
 minutes more, until at last the men of the great 
 typographical union came into view and the pro 
 cession halted. The printers broke ranks and 
 gathered about the reviewing stand. Cheers arose 
 and swept through the vast multitude. 
 
 Alice Neilson had found a pair of opera glasses, 
 and was leveling them intently at the flag-be 
 decked platform. She saw someone rise and bow. 
 
 Who is it?" asked her husband. 
 
 "A portly man with a big mustache." 
 
 "Do the ends droop?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "It s the governor. He used to wax them until 
 he became a candidate, and some one told him 
 that the wax would beat him." 
 
 More cheers. Evidently the governor is not 
 the only man who is wanted. A short, fat indi 
 vidual with red beard and a redder face arises. 
 
 "That s the lieutenant-governor," said Neilson. 
 
 260
 
 ACROSS A HUMAN SEA 
 
 "I can tell that face from here. They don t want 
 him." 
 
 And now there seemed to be some name on 
 the multiple tongue of the crowd. Rising from 
 scattered shouts, it finally gathered into one great 
 concentrated clamor. 
 
 "Craig, Craig," was the mighty cry. 
 
 Then up rose the portly governor, turned to 
 a man seated behind him, grasped him by the arm 
 and gently dragged him to the front of the stand. 
 
 "Craig, Craig, Craig," burst from ten thousand 
 throats. "Speech, speech. Hurrah!" 
 
 The tall, well-knit figure in black bowed as if 
 with deep respect for the people. Then he began 
 to speak. 
 
 The clear, resonant tones were wafted across 
 the plaza to the hotel in the sudden and complete 
 cessation of all noise. 
 
 "Workingrnen of New York," they said, "this 
 is not the place for words. The army of industry 
 is on the march everywhere to-day throughout 
 the land we love. He is presumptuous who dares 
 raise his voice amid the countless echoes of its 
 tread." 
 
 Then, with a slight inclination of his head, the 
 speaker turned and was lost to view. 
 
 "By Jove !" exclaimed old Drexel, serious for 
 once, "just the right word for an impression. He 
 never overshoots the mark. Some men would 
 have jumped at the chance to talk, but he well, 
 he knows the value of the gift of silence." 
 
 "Who is he?" asked Neilson, greatly interested. 
 
 "Why, don t you oh, I forgot; you went away 
 before he really came to the front. But you must 
 have known him Philip Craig." 
 
 261
 
 (XV SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Philip Craig ?" repeated the young man, puz 
 zled. "What, not ?" Then he looked at Helen 
 Norton, and bit his lip. 
 
 "Yes, sir, the Craig that used to be with John 
 Norton," went on the old gentleman, ignoring 
 a tap from his daughter s fan. "You knew him, 
 Miss Norton?" 
 
 "Yes, I knew him." 
 
 The answer was as calm and emotionless as 
 words could be from woman. Helen had been 
 looking intently at the platform through the 
 glasses she had borrowed from her friend at the 
 first sound of the well-remembered name. Now 
 she lowered them slowly, and looked her ques 
 tioner steadily in the face. 
 
 "Well, he s a big gun among the workingmen," 
 continued Drexel. "Has written for newspapers 
 and magazines for several years on the condition 
 of labor and such subjects, and mighty good 
 stuff it s been, I ll admit. Travels a lot, I believe, 
 and lately has given public addresses. Has tre 
 mendous power with the masses." 
 
 "An agitator, consequently dangerous," broke 
 in the icy voice of John Norton, who had returned 
 in time to catch the drift of what had been going 
 forward. 
 
 "I can t agree with you, Norton. He s rather a 
 peacemaker. You yourself know that but for him 
 the railroad strike might have lasted till now, if, 
 indeed, it had not resulted in anarchy." 
 
 John Norton s disgust at this contretemps was 
 limitless. To think that the first day of his 
 daughter s arrival in New York fate should bring 
 her path across that of this eloquent demagogue, 
 this attractive charlatan. Yet he feared no more 
 
 262
 
 ACROSS A HUMAN SEA 
 
 serious results than the recalling of a girlish fancy, 
 which might throw obstacles in the way of an am 
 bition which he had begun to cherish for himself 
 and for his daughter. 
 
 The gathering dusk of the September evening 
 and a slight chill in the air sent the older members 
 of the party within doors. But Helen, Alice, and 
 Neil son remained until the last strains of music had 
 died away and the last tramping of feet had been 
 swallowed up in the renewal of the city s activities. 
 Then they, too, entered the window and were lost 
 to view. 
 
 But no one of them noticed a black-clad figure 
 that crossed the street, threading the crowd with 
 firm and manly strides, and stood gazing up at the 
 balcony until they had disappeared. 
 
 And thus it was that Philip Craig and Helen 
 Norton saw each other once more across a human 
 sea. 
 
 263
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE POWER OF TRUTH. 
 
 PHILIP CRAIG, when his eyes at length left 
 the balcony, quickened his pace along 
 Broadway to follow the rear-guard of that 
 army that was fast being mustered out into the 
 weakness of individualism. He was amazed and 
 almost self-indignant to find a dull ache at his 
 heart. Had anyone on that morning told him that 
 pain would come from a glimpse of Helen Norton 
 standing proudly among her rich friends, he would 
 have laughed. Now, there was no mirth in his 
 soul. She who had been put away as dead was 
 come back to life, bringing all the bitterness of the 
 knowledge that the resurrection was not for him. 
 
 For three, years Craig had buried self in the 
 whirlpool of that most exacting labor toil for 
 others. He had assumed the burden of those who 
 seemed weak or oppressed, and wherever powerful 
 injustice reared Its head there he went like a true 
 knight-errant. He visited many states where the 
 rights of men and women workers were less prop 
 erly safeguarded than at home, and by what he be 
 lieved to be hard, earnest endeavor, but what 
 others called personal magnetism, he had brought 
 under the bonds of a common aim and sympathy 
 the most diversified elements of humanity. The 
 powerful unit for offence and defence that he had 
 
 264
 
 welded often gave food for thought to the stu 
 dents of American sociology. 
 
 Craig went once to the South in response to the 
 Macedonian call of some of the more far-seeing of 
 that section, and attacked the monster of child- 
 labor on its own ground. The dragon was slain, 
 once and for all, for by his powerful pictures of its 
 evils and his ruthless exposure of its attendant cir 
 cumstances, he had shamed into decency the 
 Northern capitalists who had made it possible. 
 
 Meanwhile he had continued his articles in the 
 American News, always gaining in felicity of ex 
 pression and power of argument. These essay- 
 talks, as he called them, were now printed simul 
 taneously in more than thirty cities of the country, 
 and, even making allowance for Orville W. Price s 
 natural vein of hyperbole, were read by a really 
 enormous constituency, to most of whom the name 
 of Philip Craig became a household word. 
 
 The astute editor rarely permitted a day to pass 
 without congratulating himself upon his own 
 cleverness in engaging this "great card" for the 
 News. He knew that Craig had vastly increased 
 the circulation of his papers, and, therefore, his 
 own revenue. Being no niggard in the dispensing 
 of money for his paper, where results told, he had 
 once offered to double the payment for Philip s 
 contributions. He was astounded to meet with a 
 flat refusal. 
 
 "I don t know what to make of the fellow," he 
 confided to his managing editor still Landor. 
 He said he was entitled to as much as would de 
 fray his needs and no more. You d naturally think 
 that he made a good thing of it on the outside, but 
 I ve the best of reasons for believing that he never 
 
 265
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 accepts a cent from anyone, and that his services 
 to organizations are given free, except his bare ex 
 penses. The man s no fool, that s clear. Then 
 what s his game?" 
 
 For, being a great editor, Price was morally con 
 vinced that every man was playing a game. His 
 only wonder was as to the nature of Philip s stakes. 
 
 But the people knew their special pleader far 
 better than did his employer. They knew that he 
 declined money, honor, titles, and offices. "I help 
 you to help yourselves^" he often told them ; 
 "that s glory enough for me." And they believed 
 him and loved him, for even the basest of those 
 who came within the quickening radiance of his 
 influence knew that he labored for them, not for 
 himself. 
 
 As he walked sturdily along, dreaming dreams 
 and thinking of many things he knew were best 
 buried in oblivion, a fine rain began to fall, and he 
 turned up his coat collar and pulled down the brim 
 of his soft hat. 
 
 Wheeling briskly around a corner he nearly ran 
 into a burly individual who was slouching along 
 with his hands in his pockets and an abbreviated 
 clay pipe between his teeth. Then there occurred 
 one of those little passages at dodging in which 
 every man engages, perforce, now and then. 
 
 "Pardon me," said Philip, as he at last found 
 dear space between the man and the curb-stone, 
 and prepared to pass on. 
 
 "Yer d better ask pardon," growled the other. 
 "You swells haven t so much ter do, I m thinkin , 
 that yer can t look where yer goin ." 
 
 "Why, my dear fellow," began Craig pleasantly, 
 and then nearly laughed outright at the term 
 
 266
 
 THE POWER OF TRUTH 
 
 "swell" as applied to him. Was a man necessarily 
 to be placed in that category if he preferred a black 
 coat, collar and tie to light colors and a bare neck ? 
 
 "I ain t yer feller, and yer needn t laugh," said 
 the burly man stoutly. I m an American citizen, 
 I d have you know, and have got as much right to 
 the streets as you and your gang, as yer ll all find 
 out some day." 
 
 To Craig this species was no stranger : the man 
 who is forever trumpeting his own inferiority by 
 proclaiming his equality. Something in the fel 
 low s voice had a familiar tone. He looked at the 
 rather coarse face more carefully, then he was cer 
 tain. 
 
 "Why, Bruce, is that you?" he exclaimed. 
 
 The pipe carne from the lips that opened in dis 
 tressed wonderment, and the shaggy eyebrows 
 lifted themselves in astonishing fashion. The 
 whole face was an exclamation point, marking em 
 barrassment. 
 
 "Well, if it ain t Mr. Craig," was the gruff ejacu 
 lation. "I axes yer pardon, but I I thought it 
 was one o them swell chaps who think they ve all 
 the right to the sidewalk, an well, I meant ter 
 show him that I was as good as he." The strong 
 shoulders squared and the heavy jaw set in a way 
 that was more significant than his words. Then 
 he bade Philip good evening and went his way. 
 
 Craig sighed as he left his late antagonist, whom 
 he knew to be a good enough fellow at heart. 
 "That s the sort of sentiment that excites enmity 
 and imperils progress now," he thought. "Later 
 it may But he resolutely put the thought from 
 him and pursued his reflections no more; he could 
 not reform the world. 
 
 267
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 As Craig reached the entrance of the hall where 
 he was to dine that night with the marshals and 
 other chief officers oi the parade, he brought to a 
 definite conclusion all the fugitive thoughts that 
 had been his company up Broadway. It took 
 shape in half-spoken words: 
 
 "I have no right to seek to see her, even to think 
 of her. My duty to the cause I have taken up for 
 bids it. And why should I wish it otherwise? If 
 her dismissal had not been final, absolutely, she 
 would have come to me in my misfortune and 
 she never even sent an inquiry. Till to-night I 
 thought the old life dead. I was right; it is dead." 
 
 Thus did Philip Craig pass sentence upon a 
 thought, forgetting that no mortal man has ever 
 lived who could say to the turbulent emotions of 
 the heart "Peace, be still," and be obeyed. 
 
 The large ante-room of the banquet hall where 
 the toilers lieutenants were to eat their dinner, 
 was brilliantly lighted and filled with an animated 
 crowd, when Philip arrived. The etiquette of 
 dress had little influence among these sturdy fel 
 lows, who came to feast in the clothes they had 
 worn during the parade. The air was full of the 
 smoke of volcanic pipes, and the conversation sug 
 gested the idea that every man was trying to shout 
 down every other. 
 
 A chorus of rough and hearty greeting went up 
 at Craig s appearance. Those who knew him 
 crowded about for a grip of the hand, and those 
 who did not clamored for an introduction. To 
 him this spontaneous welcome of earnest men was 
 very touching. We appreciate most the tribute 
 
 268
 
 THE POWER OF TRUTH 
 
 whose sincerity we cannot doubt, no matter from 
 how humble a source; the love of a dog is better 
 than the suspected friendship of a king. So, if 
 Philip found himself a hero, it was not the rank 
 that delighted him, but the spirit that prompted 
 his elevation. 
 
 A little group that stood apart from the centre 
 of interest found him a fruitful topic of discussion. 
 Luke Ford was there, performing the difficult feat 
 of chewing tobacco and talking at the same time; 
 Langmaid, too, his attendant spirit, had come, and 
 so had Bruce, the man who had so nearly been 
 in collision with Craig. There were one or two 
 others in this special knot, some of whom evi 
 dently did not know Philip. 
 
 Is it possible that s the man who s done so much 
 for us?" asked one of these in astonishment, turn 
 ing a thumb toward Philip. "Why, he looks like a 
 minister! 
 
 "Like a minister? Maybe," growled Bruce. 
 "But I ll tell yer one thing: he don t talk like one. 
 Nobody goes to sleep when lie speaks." 
 
 "No, they sit up and listen," said Ford. "If he ll 
 only say the right things now " The rest of the 
 sentence was lost in a prodigious working of the 
 lantern jaw. 
 
 "What things, for instance?" queried another. 
 
 "What things? Well, speech is good his 
 speech is mighty good but I d like a little action. 
 Howsomever, what am I to criticise? I d bet 
 ter " But his self-deprecation was stifled by a 
 fresh piece of tobacco of preternaturally large size, 
 even for him. 
 
 "Will he speak to-night?" persisted the seeker 
 for information. 
 
 269
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "I doubt it," replied a thin man, whose red sash 
 looked as if it might have been blown upon him 
 from a clothes-line. "He doesn t talk much, ex 
 cept when there s something to be gained. Be 
 sides. I believe this feed is to be digested without 
 gab." 
 
 "If I remember rightly and I think I do, 
 observed a fussy little man with the air of one who 
 had made a great discovery, "this same Craig used 
 to be hand and glove with that big plutocrat, Nor 
 ton. How did he get over on our side ?" 
 
 "With the senator, do you mean?" asked Ford. 
 
 "Ye?, the man who bought his election ; he buys 
 everything he wants you know." 
 
 "Oh, well, he simply couldn t stand the atmos 
 phere of that sort of thing, and he got out. Gave 
 up a thundering salary and a lot of other perqui 
 sites. And he s all the better for it now." 
 
 "Blast Norton and all his gang," growled 
 Bruce. "D ye know what that World s Bank of 
 his is goin ter do for us? Make paupers of the 
 whole of us, that s what. When such men get a 
 grip on the money supply of the country well, 
 look out, that s all." 
 
 During this conversation Philip had remained 
 the centre of an admiring and respectful group of 
 the workingmen. Now and again some leader 
 would draw him apart and engage him in a whis 
 pered colloquy. Some left him with faces lighted 
 with hope, others wearing the look of gravity and 
 disappointment. One resolute appearing fellow, 
 with a Germanic countenance as clear-cut as if 
 carved from marble, seemed especially concerned 
 at Philip s reply, which was so emphatic as to 
 reach the ears of the others. 
 
 270
 
 THE POWER OF TRUTH 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Brandt," he was heard to say, 
 "if your union passes that vote, I shall withdraw 
 from any further efforts in behalf of your men. 
 Your employers are wrong in many things, but 
 they are right in this, and the moment you give 
 them the opportunity to prove you absolutely in 
 the wrong, you forfeit public sympathy, and your 
 cause is lost. Such a course as you propose is 
 not only illegal, it is inexcusable by moral law. It 
 is just such things as these that have cast a stigma 
 on trades-unionism. Tell your associates what I 
 have said, if you please. At all events, let them 
 know that I have warned you." 
 
 Henry Brandt frowned with vexation, as Philip 
 turned and walked away. At first he thought 
 Philip unjust, and then he feared that he had not 
 been a good advocate of his own cause. 
 
 "Says just what he thinks," remarked Luke 
 Ford, who had joined Brandt just in time to hear 
 Philip s words clearly. He, himself, had had that 
 sort of thing said to him more than once. 
 
 "Yes, I know," replied the German. "Perhaps 
 he s right, but it s hard not to strike back." 
 
 The dinner, to which the company was now 
 summoned, was a simple, unostentatious affair, 
 embellished by no chef s masterpieces and moist 
 ened by no rare vintages. It was "good American 
 grub," as Ford expressed it, and was heartily en 
 joyed by the sturdy, everyday men who lined the 
 long tables and rapidly stored away what was set 
 before them. Lucullus, who "ate roasted turnips 
 on the Sabine farm," might have been its patron 
 saint, although, truth to tell, few of the feasters 
 would have recognized him, even by name. 
 
 That the dark-clad figure near the centre of the 
 271
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 head-table had magnetism even in silence was 
 made evident at the close of the dinner, when the 
 name of Craig began to assert itself in the general 
 buzz of post-prandial talk. The chief-marshal, who 
 presided, turned to Philip with a smile. 
 
 "It looks very much as if we might have to sus 
 pend our own rule, Mr. Craig," he said. "I imag 
 ine that a demand for a speech from you is brew- 
 ing." 
 
 "I m ready," replied Philip. 
 
 The marshal looked at his neighbor curiously. 
 Evidently something had happened during the 
 evening to change his determination, for it had 
 been agreed earlier in the day that after-dinner 
 oratory was to be strictly tabooed. 
 
 At last some enthusiast who could be restrained 
 no longer started the cry of "Craig; speech." 
 Then it was taken up all around the tables, and the 
 man who had long been used to such compliments, 
 but who never heard them without a renewed sense 
 of gratitude that he had been enabled to make such 
 progress as he had in his work for humanity, rose 
 in his place. 
 
 Philip s remarks were brief. After a few grace 
 ful phrases of congratulation on labor s splendid 
 showing for the day, and a glowing picture of hope 
 for the future, he said : 
 
 "I have but a few words more. Their brevity 
 may make them less difficult to remember. I have 
 been approached to-day by a leader of men, work- 
 ingmen, with the request that I aid him to a certain 
 end. He and his associates are attempting, by re 
 fusing to work, to force the company that em 
 ployed them to rectify abuses of which they were 
 the victims. 
 
 272
 
 "This is their right. No man should work who 
 believes it for his best interests not to do so. In a 
 union in which membership is had only after full 
 knowledge of the conditions and which is entered 
 into with a certain well-defined understanding, it is 
 just that the majority should rule. The majority 
 have voted for this strike. It should continue until 
 its objects are obtained or until the majority give 
 up the struggle. 
 
 "But when the leader of these men proposes to 
 use force disguised under another name, it is 
 true to prevent other men in allied trades, but 
 who are not now members of their union, from 
 earning their living, I tell you, workingmen, he 
 transcends his rights, and goes where the Ameri 
 can people will not endorse him. 
 
 "I will uphold any workingman s cause as long 
 as I have the strength to do so, if he fights fair, but 
 when he begins to apply to his fellow laboring man 
 the same methods of coercion and oppression that 
 he protests against in his own employers, I cannot 
 and will not support him." 
 
 For a moment blank silence reigned over the 
 tables as Craig sat down and drank some water. 
 Hundreds of eyes, some with the glint of unfriend 
 liness appearing in them, were leveled at this 
 strange man who could bring capitalists to their 
 knees and yet stand here in his chosen camp and 
 denounce his own. 
 
 Then, from a seat far down toward the rear, 
 came a resonant, earnest voice, relieving the op 
 pressive stillness. 
 
 "He s right," it said. 
 
 A sturdy figure arose to its full height and they 
 saw that Henry Brandt had spoken. 
 
 273
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "He s right," exclaimed the German once more, 
 "and I m wrong. Three cheers for the man who is 
 never afraid to make enemies with the truth. ^Three 
 cheers for Philip Craig!" 
 
 The prolonged shouts of approval that followed 
 this manly outburst were sweeter to Philip s ears 
 than any he had ever heard. He had won a battle 
 for a principle.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 A BOND IN HONOR. 
 
 HON. JOHN P. NORTON, junior senator 
 from the state of New York, had arrived at 
 his present political distinction by a chain of 
 circumstances that men described with their most 
 sarcastic smiles. A vacancy had been providentially 
 made by the ill-health, the papers stated, of Hon. 
 Cyrus Fowler, who immediately undertook a Eu 
 ropean trip to restore his shattered constitution. 
 It was noted, however, by travelers from America, 
 that Mr. Fowler had become anchored in Paris, 
 where he lived a life of pleasurable activity, and 
 spent money like one who is not often compelled 
 to balance his bank books to find where he stands. 
 
 The Hon. Mr. Fowler had been one of the few 
 comparatively poor senators of his time. He was 
 the relic of a legislative session several years before 
 in which respect for brains had somehow managed 
 to come to the fore, and which resulted in his selec 
 tion out of a three-cornered fight in which the 
 other two contestants had spent money so brazenly 
 as to bring scandal and ruin upon their cause. 
 
 So, when the senatorial toga was thus thrown off 
 by the stricken Mr. Fowler, it happened, the legis 
 lature being in session, that the claims of John P. 
 Norton as a foremost adopted son of the state were 
 advanced with great vigor by a large number of 
 eloquent men and almost as many influential news- 
 
 275
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 papers. His great services to the ruling party, 
 quiet, though no less effective, were adduced and 
 the argument was enforced everywhere that a 
 giant of affairs, such as Norton had proved himself 
 to be. would furnish just the sort of stimulus 
 needed by the upper house at Washington. He 
 was practically the only candidate of his party, and 
 was elected by a very comfortable plurality. 
 
 Of course the gentlemen on the farther side of 
 the political ditch, made very noisy charges of 
 bribery in the elevation of Norton, but as their 
 powers in the same direction were limited merely 
 by lack of contributions, their fulminations were 
 very generally regarded as the outpourings of ma 
 licious envy. 
 
 To Andrew Haven the senatorial campaign was 
 a veritable delight. This malodorous Fidus Ach 
 ates of the great financier had been the executive 
 officer in certain transactions where a keen brain 
 and an unerring instinct for the limit of safety were 
 absolutely essential. He it was who suggested to 
 the state committee that Norton might be induced 
 to accept the senatorship, and he divined in some 
 mysterious way the Hon. Cyrus Fowler s intention 
 to resign several weeks before the fact became 
 public. 
 
 At Norton s request, Haven came to the office 
 one day in early December, just before the session 
 of Congress at which the new senator was to take 
 his seat. The note of summons had requested him 
 to bring a full statement of the expenses of the 
 campaign in order that everything might be put 
 straight before Norton s departure for Washing 
 ton. 
 
 Haven came into the presence of his chief in 
 276
 
 A BOND IN HONOR 
 
 rather a disturbed frame of mind. For months no 
 accounting of the large sums of money entrusted 
 to him had been asked, and he had begun to hope 
 that none would be. There was a rather comfort 
 able balance in his hands, and he knew he would 
 have to give it up or expand some of the items of 
 payment; he wondered if it were safe to do the 
 latter. 
 
 "You have brought those vouchers, I suppose, 
 Andrew? Yes, I see you have. I ll just run them 
 over." 
 
 Haven handed him a bulging linen envelope, 
 and Norton took the contents and shuffled them 
 rapidly in his hands, his thin brows contracting the 
 while. 
 
 "There is an itemized sheet, I presume?" 
 
 Haven inclined his head deferentially. 
 
 "Ah, yes, here it is." He ran his eye down sev 
 eral long sheets held together by a brass pin. 
 At length he whistled softly, in half-amused fash 
 ion. 
 
 "Expensive, isn t it?" he observed. "But I see 
 you still have a few thousands left of the last sum 
 that was transferred to your account." 
 
 Haven breathed easier, Norton s tone was so 
 good-natured that it augured well for his continued 
 possession of the money, or a considerable part of 
 it. 
 
 "Yes," he said timidly, "but I beg pardon 
 you know that Price is not yet settled with." 
 
 "Oh, yes, the American News man. What s his 
 figure?" 
 
 Haven coughed deprecatingly. 
 
 "He has none. At least it won t do to offer him 
 money." 
 
 277
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Ah, one of the different kind, eh? Well what 
 does he expect ?" 
 
 "He hinted to Stockwell that he was sorry he 
 hadn t been clever enough to buy Onometer stock 
 when it was at par." 
 
 Norton laughed aloud. 
 
 "Ah, that s it, is it? Did he say how many 
 shares he would have bought if he had been 
 clever?" 
 
 "He told Stockwell he was sorry he hadn t 
 bought five hundred shares." 
 
 Again Norton whistled, this time with real 
 wonderment. 
 
 "Let s see," he said. "Onometer is now 310. 
 If you transfer to him five hundred of your shares 
 at par, assuming, of course, that you cannot carry 
 the stock and do not care to make public your 
 disposal of it, he will make $105,000. Rather a 
 big price for his support." 
 
 "But without it ?" 
 
 "I would have been defeated? Perhaps. Well, 
 transfer the stock." 
 
 The little man paled visibly. This transaction, 
 allowing for the money he had in his possession, 
 would make him a gainer by only a few thousands. 
 
 "But I" 
 
 "Oh, I ll see that you lose nothing," said Norton 
 sharply. "Adding the Onometer stock, the bill is 
 pretty heavy but it will be worth it. Apropos, 
 Haven, T suppose the opposition might call this 
 pretty close to bribery." 
 
 "Well, I I don t know." 
 
 "But you do know," returned his chief sternly. 
 "And you know, too, that they have already said 
 it." 
 
 278
 
 A BOND IN HONOR 
 
 Haven shrugged his shoulders deprecatingly. 
 He was too deferential to admit the impeachment, 
 and too shrewd to deny a self-evident fact. 
 
 "But I m in," continued Norton, "and you must 
 find a way to silence the usual way the most 
 violent of our critics." He wrote something on a 
 little slip of yellow paper. "Will this suffice for all 
 and make you whole ?" 
 
 Andrew Haven s greedy little eyes sparkled be 
 hind his large spectacles as he saw the figures. 
 His world, which was bounded equally by self and 
 the potent sign of the dollar, once more became 
 bright. 
 
 "It is generous, very generous," he replied. 
 "I T " 
 
 "Men who do dirty work should at least have 
 the excuse of being well paid for it," said Norton 
 coldly. He had less consideration for his tools 
 than the stone-mason for his chisel, except that 
 similarly he demanded that they be kept sharp. 
 Haven winced at the cruelty of the remark, but was 
 silent under the sting, as always. 
 
 "Of course," continued the other, "there must 
 be no checks and no apparent gifts. You d better 
 make transfer papers for all in blocks of Neilson- 
 Davies Co. stock, and I ll pay you in currency 
 from the World s Bank. That will do for this 
 morning, Andrew." 
 
 Haven retired in his usual blundering, toppling 
 fashion, nnd hastened away to begin to put his 
 chief s orders into execution. He knew the value 
 of promptitude in dealing with such a man. 
 
 Norton, left alone for a few moments, began to 
 turn over the personal mail on his desk. The first 
 missive to catch his eye was a delicate, cream-col- 
 279
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 ored envelope that bore a dark-blue crest on the 
 wax seal. 
 
 "The tone of his note is certainly more cordial 
 than usual," he said half-aloud, as he read the en 
 closure. "It may be that at last but to-night will 
 tell." And he returned Count Sandstrom s letter 
 to its envelope and filed it away carefully. 
 
 That evening, punctual to the minute, Sand- 
 strom made his appearance at the Norton mansion. 
 His dress was a marvel of taste and fashion, and 
 his bearing that of a diplomat rather than of a 
 financier. Always having the "grand air," despite 
 his lack of height, he could not but impress the 
 gentle Mrs. Norton, whom he took into dinner 
 with the courtly grace of one escorting a princess. 
 
 To Helen he was polite almost to the point of ex 
 treme reserve, which made the young woman mar 
 vel in an undefinable way. At their last meeting 
 at Baden-Baden, where the Count had sojourned 
 during the entire stay of the Neilson party his 
 courtesies had been marked by a spirit of camara 
 derie that had been very pleasant to Helen. He 
 had been a delightful cavalier, frank, free, and ut 
 terly unpretentious, and the American girl s spirit 
 had met his with admiration and genuine liking. 
 Now, to her quick sensibilities, he seemed cold, 
 and she found herself speculating as to the change 
 brought about by environment. 
 
 Still he was a very pleasant dinner-guest she 
 had to admit that and he made the elaborate 
 meal a merry one by the brilliancy of his anec 
 dote and the facility of his wit. Even Mrs. Norton 
 warmed to his infectious gaiety, and talked far 
 more freely than was her habit. 
 
 "By the way, Count," she remarked, on his as- 
 280
 
 A BOND IN HONOR 
 
 suring his host that he was glad to be in America 
 again, "may we trust that your business on this 
 occasion will be more successful than when we first 
 saw you here?" 
 
 "Ah, madame," he exclaimed in mock indigna 
 tion, "your cruel words belie your kind heart. I 
 did, indeed, lose on that memorable day, but to 
 such a winner! What became of the horse? Won 
 many stakes, I presume?" 
 
 "No, indeed. That was his last race. King 
 Capital was Helen s horse, you know, in the days 
 when he was plain Dandy." 
 
 "And he s been Dandy ever since," interposed 
 Helen. "I suppose he is getting old, but he 
 doesn t seem to know it." 
 
 "So King I mean Dandy was your horse, 
 Miss Norton. That explains his victory. Barba- 
 rossa was too gallant to defeat a lady, even 
 through her proxy." 
 
 Through all the exaggerated punctilio of his 
 bow to the pretty daughter of the house, one could 
 have seen that he was fascinated by the girl, per 
 haps despite himself. It had not been a mere holi 
 day fancy on his part when at Baden-Baden he had 
 found himself in the role of comrade to the grave 
 and sweet-faced American. Nor was he less sen 
 sible of her charm now that the more prosaic do 
 main of home was round about her. 
 
 The mother s quick perception noted what the 
 Count undoubtedly believed to be admirably con 
 cealed, and she wondered a bit, for in other days 
 she did not remember to have seen any special evi 
 dence of captured fancy on Sandstrom s part. She 
 even remembered a report that he was likely to be 
 affianced to a German princess of royal blood. Yet 
 
 281
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 here was the perceptible evidence of a man s attrac 
 tion toward a woman, and she was not unpleased 
 to see it, for no mother of an attractive girl ever 
 yet failed to resent any lack of appreciation on the 
 part of an "eligible man. As far as possible from 
 the professional or even amateur matchmaker, 
 Mrs. Norton realized the compliment and its 
 possibilities with gratification. 
 
 The after-dinner tobacco was consumed in the 
 library, where, on opposite sides of a ponderous, 
 elaborately carved table, the men sat down in huge 
 leather chairs. The Count gently waved back the 
 proffer of Norton s slender panatellas, and took 
 out his golden, ruby-studded cigarette case. 
 
 "Your cigars are excellent, I know," and he 
 looked about significantly at the magnificent ap 
 pointments of the room, "they must be to be John 
 Norton s. But you will pardon me if I remain true 
 to my especial cigarettes made for me in the 
 Khedive s private shops; will you not try them? 
 No? As for me, I believe that I am of keener 
 brain when their smoke is inhaled. A little super 
 stition of mine, that is all." 
 
 For a few moments they blew out the smoke of 
 their respective tobacco in silence. The union of 
 the soft, balmy fragrance of the choicest of Havana 
 with the more pungent, orientally suggestive odor 
 of the Egyptian leaf, formed an atmosphere that 
 an enthusiast would have called particularly 
 adapted to the satisfactory arrangement of any 
 sort of plans. Norton, himself, felt something of 
 this. 
 
 "I am gratified, Count," he said at last, "that 
 you have consented to unite business and social 
 pleasures. It is not my practice to bring commer- 
 282
 
 cialism into my house, but this is exceptional busi 
 ness, I take it business that must be done under 
 unusual surroundings, and quietly." 
 
 "It is, as you say, exceptional," agreed Sand- 
 strom, with strong inflection on the final word. 
 "That makes any breach of etiquette quite pardon 
 able. Let us proceed." 
 
 Then, for more than an hour, the two men talked 
 in low tones across the table, Norton, perhaps, 
 having the larger share of the conversation. Sand- 
 strorn s keen blue eyes rarely left the face of the 
 American, and now and again he caressed his 
 sweeping moustachios as if imparting some great 
 secret to them. 
 
 "That is the situation," said Norton as a sum 
 ming-up. "I have been frank with you. What do 
 you say to the proposition?" 
 
 "I should insult your intelligence, Mr. Norton," 
 replied the Count very slowly, "if I did not say that 
 you evidently feel that I realize clearly your object 
 in all this." 
 
 Now as Norton had not meant that he should 
 reveal his intentions in the slightest, he wondered 
 if he had underrated the ability of this suave and 
 indolent looking Teuton, or whether the other was 
 merely putting forward a "feeler" for his own en 
 lightenment. He brought his every power of con 
 centration to bear on the Count s next words. 
 
 "You have found," said Sandstrom, "that in such 
 an arrangement as that between the houses of 
 Norton and of Sandstrom, which figures in the vo 
 cabulary of finance as the World s Bank, with two 
 co-ordinate branches, one in New York, the other 
 in Berlin, one must be subsidiary." 
 
 Ah ! The blond man had guessed the true in- 
 283
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 wardness of the situation. "What will he do?" 
 flashed through Norton s mind. He listened more 
 intently than ever. 
 
 "With both equal in authority, and an ocean be 
 tween them," went on the suave, measured voice, 
 "they are practically two banks, having branches 
 in the old and new worlds respectively. To ac 
 complish what you desire the practical dictation 
 of the financial situation one must be subservient 
 to the other, in fact, if not in name. That is the sit 
 uation?" he asked with a well-bred insistence of in 
 terrogation. 
 
 Norton bowed in grave assent. In the fraction 
 of a second and that inclination of the head he had 
 decided that there could be no temporizing, no 
 splitting of hairs with such a man. In the finesse 
 of finance he knew that he had met a peer. 
 
 "The only question, then, is," continued the 
 Count, "which shall rule absolutely and which shall 
 obey blindly?" 
 
 Again the affirmative bow. 
 
 "The question is, which shall play the respective 
 roles? Your figures, whose accuracy of prediction 
 I do not question, hold out great inducements." 
 
 Norton for a moment believed that Sandstrom 
 might be more impressed than he had feared, but 
 his hope was short-lived. 
 
 "For mere money, per se," exclaimed his noble 
 guest with a new ring of earnestness in his voice, 
 "the house of Sandstrom has cared little. I am 
 even less, perhaps, a victim to its allurements. 
 With us it has ever been power, prestige, the right 
 to command ! You ask that I abandon this time- 
 honored policy and place the house of Sandstrom, 
 
 284
 
 A BOND IN HONOR 
 
 the growth of more than a century, at your dis 
 posal." 
 
 "No not quite that," objected Norton, brush 
 ing- at his cuff as if removing a speck of dust there 
 from. But the Count went steadily on. 
 
 "Possibly it was harshly put, but that is the 
 practical import of your proposition." 
 
 All this had been said in a tone so utterly devoid 
 of sympathy, so suavely grave, that Norton be 
 lieved the dissolution of their business arrange 
 ment to be near its end. It seemed impossible 
 that their relations could remain unchanged after 
 what had passed. He remembered that he had 
 told himself long ago that Sandstrom was a man 
 who either must be crushed or bought. Since buy 
 ing was proven to be impossible, there was but the 
 one alternative. 
 
 "At another time, with another man," said his 
 guest, "I should either laugh at such a proposal or 
 scorn it. But I have come from Europe with dif 
 ferent thoughts in my mind than ambition for 
 financial supremacy. If I yield myself and my 
 house to your guidance, which I am confident 
 would be a great financial stroke, it will not be be 
 cause of material gain of a personal nature." 
 
 If! There was something in that word that 
 made Norton s wavering hope take on new life. 
 Yet he dared not push the thought to its limit. 
 
 "If I do this thing, Mr. Norton, it will be be 
 cause of love." 
 
 At the words the black clouds of doubt suddenly 
 parted, and the sun shone radiantly beyond. Love ! 
 Helen ! but it was still only a time to listen. 
 
 "Love brought me from Germany," continued 
 Sandstrom with a gentler inflection than Norton 
 
 285
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 had ever heard from his lips, "love brings me here 
 to-night. But for it and you will pardon me, I 
 know I should not have listened to you a half 
 hour. Germany demands the first duty of her chil 
 dren, and it is for her sake that I shall accept your 
 proposition if" his voice sank to a tense and 
 thrilling whisper "if you will bind yourself to me 
 to aid her." 
 
 Again Norton was baffled, confounded, thrown 
 into the vortex of uncertainty and speculation. 
 Then it was not for Helen, not for the attraction of 
 woman for man that this astonishing individual 
 was willing to yield his financial sceptre. A mere 
 sentimental devotion to the fatherland a feeling 
 Norton could but vaguely comprehend was the 
 mainspring of his extraordinary course. It was 
 enough to stagger judgment and confound the in 
 tellect. Thinking of no fit thing to say, he said 
 nothing. 
 
 "Draw closer," said the Count. Norton obeyed, 
 anathematizing himself for a puppet in the hands 
 of this masterful German. "Pledge me your busi 
 ness honor that no breath or hint of \vhat I shall 
 tell you shall pass to another." 
 
 Norton inclined his head silently, awed by the 
 tremendous earnestness of the man. 
 
 "Germany is on the verge of a great war. Hos 
 tilities may not come within a year, but come they 
 must Russia, England and France will join com 
 mon cause against the old-world supremacy of the 
 Fatherland. Without America, Germany, although 
 she must win in the end, will fight the fight in 
 which victory is only less destructive than defeat." 
 
 Did this strange person believe that he could 
 control the policy of a nation, dictate alliances, 
 
 286
 
 A BOND IN HONOR 
 
 thought Norton. It was, perhaps, an honor to be 
 so considered, yet chimerical to the last degree. 
 
 "America will he, for her own sake must be, neu 
 tral," continued Sandstrom. "All Germany hopes 
 for is that in some way she can rely upon it that 
 the product of your granaries will be open to her. 
 In other words, I am empowered to ask your co 
 operation in a plan by which we may have absolute 
 dependence upon all the wheat and grain that we 
 shall need. The crops of India and Russia will be 
 forbidden us. Those of America will be ample. 
 Money is of no value, but we have reason to be 
 lieve that, once war has begun, our enemies will 
 leave no means untried to prevent our securing 
 what we want. Will you, in exchange for my 
 acquiescence in the plans for the future of the 
 World s Bank, bind yourself to such control of the 
 American crops as will insure Germany whatever 
 she asks?" 
 
 Norton was amazed, yet once more on his own 
 ground. Since it was to be a great contest in the 
 markets, a business campaign he knew so well how 
 to wage, he could accept the commission with the 
 dogged determination of a veteran soldier. But 
 being an American, he answered the question by 
 asking another: "Why do you think I can do 
 this?" 
 
 "Because," was the reply, "ever since the night 
 of that banquet when we first met as friends, I have 
 remembered. A man who could begin as you be 
 gan, in the arid deserts of the West, and who can 
 achieve what you have achieved, is the man upon 
 whom Germany can depend." 
 
 John Norton rose to his full, impressive height, 
 and extended his right arm to the Count. 
 
 287
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "It shall be a bond in honor," he said solemnly, 
 and the men s hands met in a long and firm clasp. 
 
 "I thank you," exclaimed Sandstrom. "Ger 
 many will add her thanks to mine at the proper 
 time. And now there is a personal matter of which 
 I wish to speak, if I may." 
 
 "Speak freely," was the cordial reply, "and com 
 mand me to the utmost." 
 
 "I love your daughter, sir, and I beg your sanc 
 tion to ask her to become my wife." 
 
 Pride in the prospective alliance with a man who 
 was little less than a prince filled John Norton s 
 soul, but his sturdy nature forbade any revelation 
 of his pleasure even to one to whom he owed a 
 glorious future for his most cherished ambitions. 
 Nor would he barter away his child s freedom 
 without making her a knowing party to the trans 
 action. 
 
 "I am sensible of the honor of your declaration, 
 Count Sandstrom," he replied, "but my daughter s 
 heart is her castle. It must be won." 
 
 As he spoke they heard the faint sound of a 
 pianoforte from the music room in another part of 
 the great house. The plaintive air of a German 
 lied, instinct with delicate tenderness, seemed to 
 the Count an omen of good cheer. 
 
 "I shall be a doughty knight," he said, with a 
 radiant smile. 
 
 288
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 PLACING THE BLAME. 
 
 WINTER opened with more than its usual 
 menace to the poor. Its autumnal fore 
 runner had, with its early frost and dismal 
 sky, made gloomy prophecies of what was to come, 
 and these had been amply verified. For weeks 
 there had been practically no sun, and the high 
 winds, laden with dust, had brought disease and 
 consequent suffering to those least able to endure. 
 All over the country conditions had grown steadily 
 worse, and Philip Craig had found himself encom 
 passed with such pressing demands for his service 
 that he scarcely knew which way to turn. 
 
 For workingmen the times were violently askew. 
 A season of great prosperity had suddenly felt the 
 enormous, if legitimate, reaction from lavish ex 
 penditure, over-capitalization, and the too-san 
 guine investment of money in any sort of enter 
 prise that could purchase a hearing. Capital now 
 became as timid as it had before been bold, and 
 countless thousands who had been employed under 
 inflation, found themselves either terribly crippled 
 in their earning capacity or thrown out of work al 
 together. The western crops had been greatly re 
 duced, adding a dangerous element to the situa 
 tion. Prices of all necessities rose, but not the 
 price of labor. 
 
 The great working forces found themselves har- 
 289
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 assed and torn by anxiety, and the radical element 
 in the labor organizations cast their seed upon 
 fruitful ground. Craig battled long and hard to 
 keep men in check from the almost suicidal meas 
 ures which they would have adopted under the be 
 lief that they were stronger than they were. He 
 knew too well the direful effect of hopeless strikes 
 upon women and children, and whenever he could 
 patch up some sort of truce between the contend 
 ing elements he rejoiced as having done a service 
 to humanity. 
 
 But strong and masterful as he was, respected 
 though he continued to be, impressive and adroit 
 in argument as he had come to be regarded, he 
 could not always succeed. Men smarting under a 
 sense of injustice are rarely far-seeing; the question 
 of bread is more potent than that of logic. 
 
 As Philip descended the steps of Harmony Hall 
 one winter evening, thinking with grim mirth of 
 the misnomer, he realized that he had failed dis 
 mally in this instance, and that failure meant suffer 
 ing to those who had no voice in the decision. All 
 the afternoon he had been seeking to dissuade 
 from an industrial war the delegates to a conven 
 tion of the allied organization of shoe-workers. 
 Their employers, under stress of bitter competition 
 from a great New England association of manufac 
 turers, had entered into an agreement to reduce 
 the price for piece work in such a way that the ag 
 gregate saving was considerable. The individual 
 loss to the workmen was small and could have been 
 practically made up day by day by increased speed 
 in labor. Rut, for the sake of principle, the men 
 had decided to fight with the one weapon that 
 
 290
 
 PLACING THE BLAME 
 
 seemed to be nearest at hand and most effective 
 a strike. 
 
 On the sidewalk he found Joseph Langmaid, 
 who had stood shoulder to shoulder with him in 
 the contest. The fact that both of them together 
 had not been able to stem the tide for Langmaid 
 was high in the committee of the organization 
 sho\ved to what extent the temper of the delegates 
 had led them. 
 
 "Well, Philip," he said, darting his little eyes 
 about and blinking hard at the violent lights in the 
 windows of the mean shops adjacent, "we ve lost 
 for sure. The ballot will be three to one to quit 
 work. God pity the women and the children in 
 these awful times." 
 
 "Strange they should be so blind," replied Craig. 
 "I thought that my statement that I had the best 
 of reasons for believing that a strike now meant a 
 shut-down till next fall, at least, would have 
 weight." 
 
 "They didn t believe it. Not that they doubt 
 you, of course, but they think you ve been misin 
 formed. Jacques and French and their crowd have 
 made themselves and the rest believe that the 
 manufacturers must go on or be ruined. You and 
 I know they have an over-production that will sup 
 ply the trade for months." 
 
 "It s the old, old error, Langmaid," said Philip 
 sadly. "A man believes himself indispensable to 
 society until he has withdrawn from the sea of life. 
 Then he finds that his going is like the taking of a 
 bucket of water from the ocean. But I m sorry for 
 this day s work." 
 
 He looked at the little knots of women, who, too 
 anxious to remain at home, had come to the en- 
 
 291
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 trance of the hall to learn what decision had been 
 made in a matter that so vitally affected their lives. 
 Many already bore the melancholy imprint of 
 poverty, and all talked with subdued excitement. 
 The squalid street, with its blank and dismal rows 
 of tenement buildings; its long line of seedy loaf 
 ers, and its poor little gutter-snipes of children, 
 still out at play because it was warmer to play 
 than to sit chilled at home, heightened the feeling 
 of depression on Philip s soul. 
 
 "As you say, Langmaid," he exclaimed, includ 
 ing the whole scene with a broad sweep of his 
 hand, "God help those in the homes. If I " 
 
 His sentence was never finished, for just be 
 yond them and from the middle of the street sud 
 denly burst a piercing shriek, the death cry of 
 some young thing in agony, followed by an appal 
 ling, crooning wail still more awful to hear. 
 
 The two men saw a heavy automobile carriage 
 come to a stop with a sudden jolt which caused the 
 man on the box almost to lurch into the street, 
 while behind it was clustered a crowd that looked 
 down at something in its centre. Then a frantic 
 woman picked up the body of her child and folded 
 it to her meagre breast with a weird swaying of the 
 body. Cries of pity from the lips around her 
 swiftly changed to oaths and a dull, vindictive roar 
 of wrath and threats of vengeance. A wild charge 
 was made on the automobile, whose occupants 
 were looking out of the windows in surprise and 
 alarm. 
 
 "Curse them and their damned machines," 
 shouted a shock-headed, red-faced man. "Down 
 with the aristocrats ! Mob the rich murderers !" 
 
 "Curses? What good are they?" jeered a slat- 
 292
 
 PLACING THE BLAME 
 
 tern woman with a shawl over her frowzy hair. 
 "If you are men you ll do more than curse." 
 
 "Drag em out !" yelled a pale boy. 
 
 "Drive em out !" shrieked a buxom girl in cheap 
 finery. "Don t ye dare do anything?" 
 
 This appeal was not in vain, for a stone went 
 crashing against the panels of the carriage, just 
 missing a window. 
 
 Philip, closely followed by Langmaid, pushed 
 his way through the mob and reached the vehicle 
 just as a man had opened the door and was about 
 to descend. 
 
 "Back," he said with quiet authority. "Close 
 the door, and remain quiet." Something in his 
 manner impressed the man, and he was obeyed. 
 
 Although his appearance had created a diver 
 sion. Philip knew that he could not hope to keep in 
 check these people, whose only known form of jus 
 tice was physical retaliation. If something could 
 only be done until the arrival of the police. In 
 desperation he turned to speak to the chaffeur, 
 whose hat had just been knocked off by a well- 
 directed missile. 
 
 "How did this happen, driver?" he asked, 
 sternly. 
 
 The man s reply was a senseless leer and a lurch 
 that brought his face nearly to Philip s own. Then 
 was the truth revealed in the strong fumes of 
 liquor and the glassy, stupid rolling of the eye 
 balls. 
 
 Craig sprang upon the steps and shouted to the 
 crowd that was just making ready to overturn the 
 automobile by the combined strength of many 
 arms. 
 
 293
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "You are right in resenting this crime," he said, 
 "but wrong in placing the blame. The people 
 who are inside, whom you call rich murderers, 
 are not at fault. It is one of your own people who 
 has done this thing. See," and he dragged the 
 now cowering wretch to his unsteady feet, whim 
 pering like a beaten cur "this man is drunk. I 
 will be responsible for him. He will receive his 
 deserts. Here are the police." 
 
 The crowd melted sullenly away at the potent 
 word and the clattering of patrol-wagon horses on 
 a gallop. Craig gave Langmaid a hurried instruc 
 tion, and the latter went to the window of the car 
 riage and presently spoke to the occupants. 
 
 "Mr. Craig!" exclaimed the sergeant of police 
 in astonishment, as he reached the scene. "What 
 has happened, sir?" 
 
 Philip told the story with a few vivid words, and 
 the officer seized the drunken chaffeur and bun 
 dled him into the patrol-wagon with about the 
 same consideration he would have had for a log. 
 He ordered a policeman, who had been an auto- 
 driver before donning brass buttons, to convey the 
 party to its destination, one of the Broadway thea 
 tres. 
 
 As Philip stepped to the sidewalk, Langmaid. 
 who had spoken to the sergeant, joined him, and 
 they started homeward. 
 
 "You gave the sergeant the names?" Craig 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes, and here is a card a young woman in the 
 party wished me to give to you." 
 
 "tome?" 
 
 <: Yes. She told me to ask you to send her the 
 
 294
 
 PLACING THE BLAME 
 
 address of the poor mother, and she would see 
 that everything possible was done for her in her 
 affliction." 
 
 Philip put the bit of pasteboard in his pocket, 
 and then, obeying a sudden impulse, drew it out 
 again. In the light of a shop-window he read: 
 
 Miss HELEN NORTON. 
 
 For a moment the name seemed to burn in let 
 ters of flame, and Craig saw it shake in his own 
 hand. What was its import? She must have seen, 
 have recognized him, and perhaps sent this as an 
 envoy of better things. It were easy for her to get 
 the woman s address from others, he reasoned, so 
 here was a token. Then he laughed aloud. Was 
 the meeting of an instant, during which he had not 
 even seen her face, to shake the belief of years? 
 Hope, he realized, was the imagination of the un 
 happy, but he was not unhappy. 
 
 Still, thought and memory would not down, no 
 matter what conviction might be, and as he walked 
 along in the sharp air to another meeting where 
 he was to make a speech, the vision of a fair face 
 and a June day long past rose between him and the 
 crowded city, and even as he spoke, clearly, con 
 cisely, eloquently as ever, he could have sworn 
 that somewhere in the intangible atmosphere about 
 him hovered the fragrance of new-mown hay. 
 
 As he was leaving the hall after his address, he 
 heard his name called, and, turning, beheld 
 "Muggsy" Bayles, as youthful in appearance as on 
 the day he won the American Handicap for John 
 Peter Norton. Under his arm was a big bundle of 
 
 295
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 books that seemed to threaten his loss of equilib 
 rium at every step. 
 
 "Muggsy, how are you?" said Philip cordially to 
 his old-time faithful messenger. "And your father, 
 how is he these days?" 
 
 "Me an Doc s we" began the ex-jockey in 
 obedience to the habit of years, "that is, I m all 
 right, but father s powerful bad with rheumatiz 
 just now, an does nothin but read. I ve just been 
 to the library to get these books for him. An how 
 are you, sir? We reads a good deal about you in 
 the papers, Doc an me, an is mighty glad to know 
 you ve got on." 
 
 After this preternaturally long speech, 
 "Muggsy" trotted along in silence, doing his best 
 to keep pace with Philip s strides. 
 
 Finally Philip asked him something about his 
 duties. 
 
 "Pretty much the same, sir," he replied, "only 
 p raps not quite so much to do since the ladies kind 
 er took to automobiles. They was out in one to 
 night op ry, I guess." 
 
 Then Philip briefly narrated the episode of the 
 drunken chaffeur and the mob. Young Bayles 
 shook his head sagely, apparently unwilling to cast 
 the whole responsibility on the driver. 
 
 "The worst o them automobiles is," he re 
 marked, "that they nin t got no hoss sense. Count 
 Sandstrom prefers em, though." 
 
 "Sandstrom? Was he one of the party?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. Him and Mrs, and Miss Norton. He 
 goes with em everywhere now that he and Miss 
 Helen s engaged. Well, good-night, sir; I ll have 
 to turn this corner. Good-night." 
 
 "Good-night, Bayles." 
 
 296
 
 PLACING THE BLAME 
 
 Walking homeward, Philip turned the news 
 over and over in his mind, surveying it from all 
 points and with what he believed to be calm con 
 sideration. He decided at last that there was no 
 reason for surprise, that the outcome of events was 
 but natural, and that his dead past must bury its 
 dead. 
 
 As he went to sleep that night, he was conscious 
 of a dull, disordered pain that seemed ever on the 
 point of surrounding his heart. He was working 
 too hard, he told himself. 
 
 Count Sandstrom and Helen Norton rode home 
 together after the opera, owing to the party s in 
 ability to replace their discarded vehicle except by 
 two smaller ones. All things had conspired to 
 rouse the nobleman from the delightful lethargy 
 in which he had been steeped during the past 
 weeks. The excitement of the accident, the in 
 toxication of sensuous music, the nearness of a 
 beautiful woman, the semi-obscurity and the 
 smooth, exhilarating motion of the carriage, fired 
 his heart and put a declaration of love upon his 
 tongue. 
 
 In the courtly way of polished men of his rank 
 he made his avowal, with gentle and respectful 
 ardor and an evident sincerity that touched Helen 
 deeply. She listened in silence until his declaration 
 ended in the direct question : 
 
 "What is your answer? Will you be my wife?" 
 
 "I cannot," she replied, as gently, as consider 
 ately, as kindly as could any woman in the utter 
 ance of that negative which man dreads most. 
 The Count was dismayed, but not crushed. 
 297
 
 O.V SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "But may I not continue to pay my addresses, 
 my dear Miss Norton, in the hope that some 
 day" 
 
 "That would be useless, Count Sandstrom," she 
 said firmly, "and an injustice to you. I shall never 
 marry," 
 
 298
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST. 
 
 HELEN S thoughts as her maid arranged her 
 hair for the night were complex, almost tu 
 multuous. The sight of Philip and the pro 
 posal of Count Sandstrom, coming in such start 
 ling proximity, thrilled her with the feeling that 
 Fate was standing somewhere near, silent, uncom 
 municative, but none the less strong and over 
 mastering. 
 
 It was as yet too early to put the incidents in 
 their proper relation. The German s offer had 
 surprised her; men there had been fluttering 
 about her wealth and beauty like the traditional 
 moths, but before their wings had been badly 
 singed they had all been warned away by prudence 
 or driven off by circumstances. 
 
 That the Count had really fallen into the flame 
 gave her a curious feeling of resentment, though 
 she admitted the injustice of it; he was certainly 
 all that a woman might ask of a man, and he had 
 been kind to her. Why, then, did she regard his 
 proposal as almost an affront, she asked herself, 
 and she saw a flush on her cheeks as she looked 
 into the mirror of her dressing-table. She 
 frowned at the self-revelation, and the lovely 
 counterpart frowned back at her, which seemed 
 right and proper and well-deserved. 
 
 Was it could it be that her annoyance at Sand- 
 299
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 strom had been the outcome of her remembrance 
 of the strong man who had dared the anger of a 
 rnob, not for her sake, but for people unknown? 
 What right had she to lift the veil for even one 
 brief moment on the ignominy of the past? This 
 man, who not only had degraded himself in his 
 quarrel with her father, but had shown the abso 
 lute pretense of his love by his tame and silent 
 acceptance of the destruction of his hopes was he 
 worth a single regret? 
 
 But hearts have a habit of rendering their own 
 judgments quite independently of intellects, and 
 so if Helen s pillow was moistened that night with 
 girlish tears, it was not strange ; nor was it remark 
 able that in her hours of wakeful unhappiness she 
 almost wished that she might be content to give 
 herself to Count Sanclstrom without her love. 
 
 Next morning Helen arose unrefreshed and dis- 
 spirited. She was so distraite at breakfast that 
 Mrs. Norton rejoiced when she announced her in 
 tention of paying a visit to Bentley-on-Hudson. 
 She went early, armed with a carriage load of 
 flowers, and filled with a desire to forget self and 
 its burdens in the soothing of the physical dis 
 tresses of little children. Vain hope. Everything 
 reminded her of Philip Craig in this place upon 
 which his personality had been so strongly 
 stamped. She could scarcely walk through the 
 corridors without seeing some new convenience, 
 some scheme of architecture that owed its inspira 
 tion to him. 
 
 All day long Helen stayed at the hospital, a ver 
 itable angel of beauty and light to the hundreds of 
 small sufferers whose cots she visited. With 
 flowers and books for the better cases, and sw y eet 
 
 300
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST 
 
 sympathy for the desperately ill, she passed from 
 ward to ward, and for a time forgot her own de 
 pression in the joy of doing good. It had been 
 her pleasure from the first to remain unknown, 
 as far as being the donor of the hospital was con 
 cerned. She felt that it would hurt her to have 
 the children regard her as other than a visitor who 
 was kind to them. 
 
 One pathetic mite of a girl, long afflicted with 
 spinal disease, died before Helen s eyes, her feeble 
 arms encircling a doll that had been a gift of the 
 "lady," and a happy smile on her lips because the 
 fair vision, somehow suggesting heaven, had been 
 before her glimmering gaze until the last. When 
 the pure little spirit had gone home, Helen knelt 
 by the tiny bed and prayed for a life as blameless. 
 
 There the Rev. Adoniram Bentley found her, 
 and his gentle eyes grew moist at the sight. But 
 she, much as she loved the great-hearted clergy 
 man, could not look at him without wretchedness, 
 for he was the most potent factor of any in arous 
 ing memory pictures of the days when Philip was 
 her all in all. She went home soon after, chas 
 tened somewhat by the experiences of the day, but 
 no less under the haunting spell of remembrance. 
 
 As she entered the house, dusk had shadowed 
 everything, but she saw dimly her father s form 
 sitting in the library. At that moment a light 
 sprang into his study lamp, and she thought she 
 noted a look of anxiety upon his illumined face. 
 She stepped softly to his side. 
 
 "Ah, my dearest/ he said, with a smile, "what 
 a day of it you have had ! And how goes it with 
 Bentley-on-Hudson ?" 
 
 301
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "All is well there, father. At least, as well as 
 can be with such a place." 
 
 "But are you not tired with such a long visit, 
 seeing so much suffering?" 
 
 "No, indeed, not so tired as " 
 
 He divined her thought, and laughed gently. 
 
 "As I seem to be, you mean. Why, do you 
 think?" 
 
 "Yes, father ; there was something in your face 
 a moment ago that looked as if you were troubled. 
 Is it so?" 
 
 "What a wonderful little sooth-sayer you are, 
 dear," he replied. Then gravely: "Well, yes, 
 Helen, I am troubled. I have just heard of your 
 refusal of Count Sandstrom." 
 
 "And you regret it?" 
 
 He bowed silently. 
 
 "But, father, I do not love him." 
 
 "Yet you love no one else?" 
 
 It was a bold stroke, Norton knew, yet such was 
 his way in business, and why not in matters of the 
 heart? 
 
 "No," she replied decisively, and he felt that his 
 bolt had reached its mark. 
 
 "Then why reject him, a gallant and worthy 
 gentleman, of whose love and name any woman 
 might be proud?" 
 
 "But marriage without love!" There was a 
 ring of indignation in her words. "Would you 
 counsel that?" 
 
 "It is frequent," he answered calmly. "Respect 
 is often the unrecognized preface to love, and mar 
 riage may turn the pages to the beginning of ro 
 mance." 
 
 There was no answer, and the father resumed 
 302
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST 
 
 still more gently : Perhaps I am wrong in telling 
 you, but I had set my heart on seeing you his 
 wife. I love you dearly, and much of my ambition 
 has centred around your future. You are no 
 longer a child, and you are affectionate and de 
 mand affectionate care. Your mother and I are 
 growing old " this with solemn emphasis "and 
 my life has been laborious. I may not be spared 
 for long to shield you." 
 
 "Oh, father!" 
 
 "With you the wife of this man, who has de 
 clined an alliance almost royal for your sake, I 
 should feel that I hnd fulfilled my duty to you." 
 
 He paused to let his words sink deeply home. 
 In a faint whisper, almost inaudible to his atten 
 tive ears, Helen replied : 
 
 "Would it make you so very happy if I should 
 consent; if if he would take me without love?" 
 
 "Very happy, Helen." The unprejudiced ob 
 server might have detected a note of triumph min 
 gled with the gratitude in his voice, but the girl 
 felt only that she was to repay the debt of years 
 of indulgence and generosity. 
 
 "Then I will try and do as you wish." she said 
 slowly. "Give me a few days to to accustom my 
 self to this, and you may tell Count Sandstrom." 
 
 She kissed her father on the forehead and then 
 left him, closing the door as gently as if shutting 
 up forever something fragrant and precious in her 
 past. 
 
 For some moments Norton sat as motionless as 
 a statue in his great leathern chair. Then he 
 sighed deeply, and, raising his left hand, observed 
 with seeming surprise the livid welt upon his 
 thumb. 
 
 303
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "After all," he said aloud, "it will be for her 
 good, and love will come. With Sandstrom as my 
 son-in-law, anything is possible." 
 
 No sooner had Helen pledged her word to her 
 father than a certain relief came soothingly to her 
 troubled mind. Gone was the harrowing tension 
 of uncertainty, the feeling that she was dividing 
 her household against itself. She accepted the sit 
 uation calmly, and even fell to wondering what 
 the responsibilities and privileges of her new life 
 would be. 
 
 A great tenderness for all that had been near 
 and dear to her girlhood days came upon her, and 
 made her heart warm toward all the world. Her 
 mother noted a new depth of affection, and re 
 joiced at what her husband told her that night. 
 Surely a yielding that had worked this subtle 
 transformation must be right, she thought. 
 
 Helen went to her favorite nooks in the garden 
 next morning with the feeling that she was to bid 
 farewell to old friends. The grave of her Angora, 
 which she had reared from kittenhood to fiercely 
 solicitous maternity, the grape-arbor, the little 
 tennis-court, the great shade tree under which she 
 had loved to lie prone upon the grass with a book 
 all these unsentient things seemed to say good- 
 by and wish her well. 
 
 The stables, nearest to her heart, as ever, stirred 
 her emotions the most. There was Dandy, sedate 
 now in his great box-stall, but putting on the 
 counterfeit of youth at the sight of his gift-bearing 
 mistress. She stroked his nose gently, pressed her 
 face against his warm muzzle, and talked to him in 
 
 304
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST 
 
 whispers, knowing well that the brutes who love 
 us would never betray our confidences if they 
 could. 
 
 She had just rewarded the noble animal with a 
 final pat and an extra lump of sugar, and was 
 leaving the stall, when the elder Bayles appeared 
 upon the scene, leaning heavily on two canes. 
 
 "Lord love ye , Miss Helen," he exclaimed 
 heartily, "it s like a breath from the verdure-clad 
 hills, as the poet says, to see ye in the stable 
 again." 
 
 "What s the. matter, Doc?" she asked solicit 
 ously, noting the crippled condition of the old 
 man. 
 
 "Oh, these canes? Rheumatiz. It s mighty bad 
 this morning." 
 
 "And yet you smile." 
 
 "Why, yes, of course; it might be worse. Be 
 sides, I think I caught it from poor old Cowboy 
 just before he died, an it sorter consoles me to 
 think you ll laugh at it. Miss Helen that my 
 takin it eased the hoss s pain a bit." 
 
 Helen did not laugh, for the old trainer s fancy 
 appealed to her nature strongly. She lent him the 
 assistance of her strong arms, and together they 
 went into the little den near the feed boxes, which 
 the house servants had long ago nicknamed "Doc 
 Bayles surgery." There they found "Muggsy," 
 astride of a saddle on the floor and performing 
 some queer evolutions with an enormous curved 
 needle and a trail of waxed thread. He jumped up 
 quickly and dusted a chair with his cap. 
 
 "Sit down, Miss Helen," he said gruffly, "me an 
 Doc s glad ter see yer. This here library smells 
 kinder horsey, but we knows yer like s the flavor, 
 
 35
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Sence Doc s took with rheumatiz all he does is ter 
 come in here and wrastle around with the books. 
 I ll bet he s arter one of em now." 
 
 "My memory ain t what it used ter be, Miss 
 Helen," said the senior Bayles, ignoring his hope 
 ful s remarks, as usual, and fumbling about the 
 shelves that occupied one side of the room. "Ah, 
 yes, this is it." 
 
 With somewhat uncertain grip he drew down a 
 volume, and began opening it at one place and 
 another where wisps of hay indicated something 
 especially interesting. 
 
 "But I think I quoted right. Yes, here s the 
 place. Where are my glasses? You read it, Miss 
 Helen, where the mark is." 
 
 " I never could believe, " began the girl. 
 
 "Yes, that s it," interposed the old man, chew 
 ing gently at the erstwhile bookmark, and gazing 
 placidly at the ceiling. 
 
 " I never could believe that providence had 
 sent a few men into the world, ready booted and 
 spurred to ride, and millions ready saddled and 
 bridled to be ridden. 
 
 "That s it," repeated Doc. "Your father gave 
 me that book, Miss, an them s my sentiments." 
 With which vigorous expression of opinion he 
 hobbled off to the stable yard, giving a parting 
 smile to the woman he could think of only as the 
 flaxen-haired little girl he had taught to ride. 
 Helen noted idly that the book was a volume of 
 Macaulay s History of England, and let it drop 
 into her lap. 
 
 Left alone with Helen, "Muggsy" seemed pecul 
 iarly ill at ease. He fidgeted on his saddle-seat, 
 and several times opened his mouth as if to speak, 
 
 306
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST 
 
 but put cracked corn into it instead. The girl 
 noted his embarrassment. 
 
 "What is it, Muggsy?" she asked in amusement. 
 
 "Well, you see, Miss," the young man blurted 
 out, as if greatly relieved, "I had a kind of a mes 
 sage for yer." 
 
 "A message ? What is it ?" 
 
 "It s here." And he drew from his pocket a 
 soiled bit of paper, yellow with the dust of cracked 
 corn, which he proceeded to unfold. It was a little 
 card which he handed to Helen. 
 
 "It s the address of the mother of the child who 
 was who was " 
 
 "Yes, I know," interrupted Helen, softly. She 
 saw that the card was her own, changed only by 
 a penciled street direction. 
 
 "How did you come by it?" she queried curi 
 ously. 
 
 "Mr. Craig gave it to me when I met him the 
 
 other night after one of his meetings, an I well, 
 I " 
 
 "Forgot it. I suppose," she prompted kindly. 
 
 "No. Miss, not that; but I didn t see you and I 
 didn t like to send it to you." 
 
 "Indeed? And why not?" she asked coldly, 
 though she repented at the next moment, for she 
 knew that the faithful little man did not merit it. 
 But at first blush the return of the card in that 
 fashion seemed like a studied insult on Philip s 
 part, although she laughed at the idea as soon as 
 it was born. However, something was necessary 
 to remove the impression she saw she had created 
 on the wondering little face before her. 
 
 "And Mr. Craig, is he well?" she asked casually. 
 
 "Well? Yes, I s pose so. He s allus workin , 
 307
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 and must be well to stand it. But sometimes I 
 wonder if he has all recovered." 
 
 "He has been ill, then?" Her voice sounded 
 like that of another to her own consciousness. 
 
 "Well, not lately. I meant his long spell after 
 the accident." 
 
 "Accident? What accident?" It was the real 
 Helen who was speaking now. 
 
 "Muggsy" gazed at her with wide-mouthed as 
 tonishment, even forgetting the corn, that came 
 near choking him as he drew a deep breath of sur 
 prise. 
 
 "Why, don t you know?" he exclaimed. He 
 saw on the instant the futility of the question, and 
 proceeded to tell, in his odd way, the whole story 
 as he knew it. Helen listened with dilated eyes. 
 No romance, no history had ever gripped her 
 heart like this simple, pathetic recital. 
 
 "When was this, you say?" she asked, with a 
 tightening at her throat and a dread lest she 
 should hear what she longed to hear. 
 
 "Lemme see," replied "Muggsy" judicially. 
 "Yes, it was the very day I saw him about the note 
 I brought to you from him. P raps you remember 
 What s the matter, Miss Helen ? Shall I call 
 
 "It s nothing, Muggsy. A little faintness. It 
 it is close here." 
 
 She had grown as pale as death, and leaned 
 trembling against a harness case. The book of 
 "Doc" Bayles had fallen from her lap, and she 
 stooped to pick it up. 
 
 "You were saying the note," she continued 
 mechanically. 
 
 "Yes, the note," repeated the small man, help 
 lessly, pondering over his next speech. He idly 
 
 308
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST 
 
 watched the book in Helen s hands, and saw some 
 thing white slip from its place and flutter to the 
 floor. Bending from his seat on the saddle, he 
 picked it up. 
 
 "Bless my eyes, if that ain t it now !" he ejac- 
 lated. "I remember he gave it back and I put it 
 in one of Doc s books. Give it to her when she 
 will take it, he said to me." 
 
 Helen stretched forth her hand, as it were, 
 across the chasm of years, and received the mis 
 sive, that seemed to burn in her fingers. A great 
 desire to be alone, to get beyond any human eyes, 
 however kindly, came over her, and she turned to 
 go- 
 
 "I think / will dispose of this," she said, with a 
 laugh that haunted "Muggsy" for some time after 
 she had passed into the open air. 
 
 In the grape arbor Helen sat down and read the 
 words she had long ago refused even to see. The 
 letter was brief, earnest, manly, eloquent, appeal 
 ing in its tenderness and thrilling in its denuncia 
 tion of the injustice that had condemned him to a 
 life alone. She could not doubt the words that 
 came so strangely from the past to accuse her. 
 
 "I have been forced to leave your father s em 
 ploy." she read, "because my ideas of business 
 rights and wrongs, of the limits that should be set 
 upon individual oppression by the power of com 
 bined capital do not agree with his. Whether I 
 am right or wrong, you shall be the judge. My 
 love for you, Helen, is deeper and truer to-day 
 than it ever was, for I feel that I am more than 
 ever worthy of you." 
 
 Tears b 1 inded her eyes, and a great wave of piti 
 ful reproach engulfed her soul. She knew that she 
 
 309
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 had read the truth and she had been the first to 
 judge him unheard. Even her father, stern and 
 relentless as he was in business, had not done 
 that! 
 
 But what had her father done? It was horrible 
 for a daughter to think of, but she relentlessly pur 
 sued the logic of the situation. He had known 
 the truth, and had given her no hint of it. An 
 drew Haven had lied. And she, childish dupe that 
 she had been, had believed the worst, had been a 
 traitor to the loyalty of love. How she must be 
 despised, and how justly ! 
 
 But there should be no more mistakes, no more 
 groping in the dark. Thrusting the note into the 
 bosom of her dress, she hurried into the house, put 
 on her furs, and started for her father s office by 
 train. Half an hour later she was admitted to his 
 private room. 
 
 "Why, Helen, what brings you here?" asked 
 Norton with surprise, as he looked up from a bal 
 ance-sheet on his desk. 
 
 His daughter walked proudly to his side and 
 held out Philip Craig s letter. 
 
 "Read it," she commanded, answering the ques 
 tion in his eyes. 
 
 Norton opened the envelope carelessly, but as 
 the handwriting met his eye he started in amaze 
 ment. As he read on slowly he felt that his daugh 
 ter s gaze never left his face, and when he had 
 finished he handed the letter back to her without 
 meeting her glance. 
 
 "Is that the truth ?" she asked, with an icy con 
 tempt that froze his nerves. This man, who could 
 face a world of men in bitterest enmity without a 
 tremor, was helpless before the outraged dignity 
 
 310
 
 THE TRUTH AT LAST 
 
 of a woman. But even in his humiliation he felt a 
 pride in the fact that she was his daughter. 
 
 "Is it true?" she said again. 
 
 He could not lie, he could not even temporize 
 with this girl who seemed suddenly to have be 
 come a young goddess of justice. 
 
 "Yes, " he answered, "it is." 
 
 A moment more, and he found himself alone. A 
 head clerk who entered long afterwards found his 
 chief staring rigidly out of the window, and was 
 obliged to speak several times before the great 
 man seemed aware of his presence. 
 
 On that same afternoon, Helen went to her 
 mothers room, and remained there for half an 
 hour. At the close of their interview the mother 
 was in tears. The girl soon after left the house, 
 clad in the simple skirt and jacket she had worn on 
 shipboard. 
 
 John Norton returned to his home in moody 
 silence, and sought his wife at once. The ser 
 vants noted with wonderment that dinner that day 
 was not served, although neither of their em 
 ployers went from the mansion. 
 
 Early in the evening the well-ordered routine 
 of the Rev. Adoniram Bentley s life was broken 
 into by a visit from the daughter of the man he re 
 garded as a philanthropist. Her story was quickly 
 told, and his protection implored. The good man 
 could see no other way than to grant Helen s plea, 
 for he knew that her strength of character would 
 keep her to her avowed course, even should he re 
 fuse to be a party to it. And foremost in the plan 
 of assistance was his solemn promise that, come 
 what might, he would admit Philip Craig to ng 
 confidence, 
 
 3"
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A LUNCHEON BEARS FRUIT. 
 
 IN a private room of the Metropole Club, styled 
 "The Billionaires" by the envious outside its 
 portals, two men sat at table. The bright 
 April sunlight glistened on polished crystal, and 
 set in relief the strong faces of the twain. It was 
 whispered about the club that John Norton and 
 Orville W. Price were taking luncheon together. 
 
 The financier-senator was rarely seen about the 
 Metropole of late, and never, within the memory 
 of the oldest servant, had he been known to eat his 
 mid-day meal there before. His usual luncheon 
 was severity itself, but to-day he had ordered an 
 elaborate repast, which he barely tasted. His 
 presence at the club at this hour, when he was in 
 variably at his office indeed his appearance in 
 town at all, for Congress was still in session was 
 enough to set the wiseacres in a flurry of excite 
 ment, and to start the portentous rumor that he 
 had an object in view. And so, indeed, he had. 
 
 He had come to New York for the express pur 
 pose of having an hour s talk with the heavy- 
 jawed man who now sat opposite, and who did his 
 full duty as a trencherman. It was not a part of 
 Norton s plan to let the editor know this, and 
 when they rnet quite casually at Price s customary 
 hour for lunching, and the Senator invited him to 
 be his guest, the thing seemed so spontaneous that 
 
 312
 
 A LUNCHEON BEARS FRUIT 
 
 the journalist was quite charmed, and responded in 
 most amiable mood. Thus it happened that they 
 sat vis-a-vis in the finest small room in the club, 
 and chatted pleasantly of everything except the 
 business that brought John Norton to New York. 
 
 For his part, Price was preparing to turn the 
 conversation into channels that might prove useful 
 to himself. He knew, as did all who were conver 
 sant of affairs below their surface, that Senator 
 Norton had become the real leader of his section 
 of the dominant party. The days when senators 
 were expected to serve an apprenticeship of silence 
 in the upper branch, and to aspire at once to no 
 methods of actual influence, had long since passed 
 away, and Norton found that his gigantic wealth, 
 his imperious force and his great acumen had pre 
 vailed with senators most of whom were only 
 less rich than himself as with other men, and that 
 he ruled because he was able. His political life 
 was undertaken purely as a means to an end, and 
 that end was to direct and control certain matters 
 in legislation that concerned the business inter 
 ests of himself and his business associates. For 
 statecraft, per se. he cared nothing. That sort of 
 thing, he believed, might have been necessary in 
 the early days of the republic, but not now. Even 
 his absolute control of state politics gave him 
 merely the satisfaction of know-ing that he thereby 
 held the business and financial policies of the com 
 monwealth in the hollow of his hand. 
 
 The meal was now approaching that state where 
 Norton felt that generalities must cease to figure 
 in the conversation. He saw that the choice 
 wines, which he never tasted, were manifesting 
 themselves in Price s flushed face, and he deter- 
 
 313
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 mined to proceed to the matter in his mind. The 
 editor had mentioned the severity of the past 
 winter, and had expressed curiosity as to the 
 probability of less straitened times. 
 
 "This European war," he said, "seems to be in 
 juring us, instead of bringing us prosperity." 
 
 "Yet I remember that the News told us in big 
 type last winter," rejoined Norton drily, "that 
 when Europeans went to war, Americans would 
 have the prosperity the foreigners lost." 
 
 "That s the strangest part of it. And the only 
 result has been to raise the prices of food stuffs, 
 and shake public confidence." 
 
 "That s just it," interrupted Norton quickly. 
 "It s all a matter of confidence, and I think it is 
 due you, Price, to tell you that the administration 
 and its advisers attribute no little of this lack of 
 confidence to the press." 
 
 "To the press?" echoed the editor in astonish 
 ment. 
 
 "Yes, sir, to its eternal policy of croaking, in 
 season and out. I know what you would say," he 
 continued, noting a wave of deprecation on Price s 
 part. "Of course it is business with you fellows of 
 the opposition. In these days, when great news 
 papers must be supported by the masses, it has 
 become essential to chief eminence in circulation 
 that the so-called popular journal should pose as 
 a type-and-ink Moses to lead the people out of 
 bondage." 
 
 Price smiled in spite of himself, but said nothing. 
 He would not argue self-evident facts with so as 
 tute a man as Norton. 
 
 "Now it seems," continued the senator, "to of 
 ficial Washington, at least, that it is time that a
 
 A LUNCHEON BEARS FRUIT 
 
 halt be called in this well, this calamity cam 
 paign." 
 
 "But," objected Price, toying with a glass of 
 rare Tokay, his especial delight, as Norton knew, 
 is there not more reason now than ever for the 
 insistence of the press that more respect be paid 
 to the rights of the common people? Provisions 
 go up, wages go down, or cease altogether, strikes 
 and lockouts multiply; in fact, the future looks 
 blacker every day. Why do the facts not warrant 
 the newspaper warnings and the demands for a 
 change?" 
 
 "Argument is fruitless," rejoined Norton, with 
 more decision than he had yet shown. "It is cer 
 tain that agitation will only shake confidence still 
 more. With confidence restored, conditions would 
 soon adjust themselves. A.t all events, it is felt in 
 Washington that unless something is done to 
 check this firing of public sentiment, we shall be 
 forced by the lower, or, if you please, the poorer 
 classes at all events by those who, having 
 nothing to lose, feel that any change would be a 
 gain into a condition very like anarchy. But 
 you should know this as well as I. 
 
 "I had not meant to mention this," he con 
 tinued after a pause, "but you re a good fellow, 
 Price, and I ll be frank with you. The American 
 News is held chiefly responsible for the socialistic 
 spirit in the people that bids fair to undermine our 
 institutions." 
 
 "The News? Why? Many other papers do 
 the same." 
 
 "Exactly. The small fry swim in your wake. 
 Reforms will come, but they must come slowly. 
 Harsh dealings with investments by capital will 
 
 315
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 inevitably result in a panic that will tumble our 
 commercial structure about our ears. Neither you 
 nor I, Price, can afford this," he added signifi 
 cantly. 
 
 The editor thought of his many investments and 
 wondered how much truth there was in the predic 
 tion. Yet he was not prepared to surrender in 
 tame fashion. 
 
 "The people," he said blusteringly, "are my 
 chief investments, Mr. Norton." 
 
 "True," returned the other calmly, "but tell me 
 who feed the life-blood to your paper, the people 
 with pennies, or those with thousands; the men 
 who buy your product on the street corners, or 
 the business houses that make it possible for your 
 presses to run; the individual with the penny, or 
 the man with the advertising contract?" 
 
 "Well, of course, advertising ," Price began 
 feebly. Norton took out his watch. 
 
 "It is later than I thought," he exclaimed. "I 
 have said more than I should, perhaps, but I will, 
 for personal friendship, go a little further. I tell 
 you. Price, that if there is not a radical departure 
 from your present methods, Washington is deter 
 mined to find a way to end your newspaper 
 career." 
 
 "End my newspaper career," said the editor 
 hotly. "Why the damned " he was about to add 
 "presumption," but something in Norton s face 
 checked him. 
 
 "Did you ever know me to lie?" asked Norton 
 sternly. "Well, I pledge you my word of honor 
 that unless you use your newspapers for the res 
 toration of confidence, they will be crushed, 
 crushed completely and forever." 
 
 316
 
 A LUNCHEON BEARS FRUIT 
 
 The hidden suggestion, the sublime confidence 
 of power tmrevealed, was more potent than any 
 specific threat could have been. Price stammered, 
 hesitated, and then said helplessly : "What what 
 am I to do?" 
 
 "As a friend I should advise, as the first step, 
 that the tone of the writings of your man Craig 
 be modified materially." 
 
 "Impossible. He writes what he thinks. The 
 American News is not responsible." 
 
 "Ah, there is your error," returned Norton with 
 his thin-lipped smile. "It is the power and pres 
 tige of your papers that give him his hold upon 
 the people." 
 
 "But he will not submit to dictation. I tried it 
 once a mere suggestion ." 
 
 "And he refused, and said he would go else 
 where?" 
 
 "Not exactly. But he did say he must write 
 what he thought, or not at all." 
 
 "Then let him go, Price." 
 
 "But my papers?" pleaded the editor. "He does 
 so much for them." 
 
 "With the rabble," returned Norton contemptu 
 ously. "Will they, or your advertisers, pay your 
 paper bill and your employees? You can control 
 the one, for no other paper of any power would 
 print Craig s stuff. As for the advertisers, Wash 
 ington knows how they are to be reached. And 
 now I must bid you good day, Price, for I have 
 to catch the Capital Limited at three. I trust 
 you will carefully consider what I have told you." 
 
 Price did consider carefully almost prayerfully 
 for a man whose religion was of his own forming 
 
 317
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 and he could see no hope of escape from his 
 manifest duty. 
 
 He hurried to the office of the News and sum 
 moned Mr. Wilkinson, the new managing editor, 
 who, after a few years service on the paper, had 
 been elevated to the seat occupied by John Wesley 
 Landor, owing to the latter s unfortunate error in 
 printing the details of a scandal in high life. It 
 was not that Price did not like a spice of naughti 
 ness in the News, but the odor of this especial 
 exposure happened to be very offensive to the 
 senses of Herbert Fish Winslow, whose dry goods 
 houses, as everybody knew, fattened Price s bank 
 account more than any other ten interests com 
 bined. 
 
 "What s on for to-morrow, Mr. Wilkinson?" 
 asked the chief, when the young, chubby-faced 
 man was in the great presence. 
 
 "Big story, sir," said the managing editor con 
 fidentially. "Flemming he s a great digger-out 
 of queer yarns has a crippled nephew up in a 
 hospital on the Hudson. He went to see him the 
 other day, and saw there a nurse, the daughter of 
 one of the city s richest men." 
 
 "Indeed! A very sympathetic story should 
 be made." 
 
 "Oh. there s more to it. It seems the girl is 
 there under an assumed name, and that she left 
 her home after some sort of a quarrel six months 
 ago." 
 
 "That is a story ," exclaimed Price, rubbing his 
 plump hands. "What did you say her name was?" 
 
 "Helen Norton, daughter of the 
 
 "Daughter of the senator?" He sprang to his 
 feet in great excitement and faced the astounded
 
 A LUNCHEON BEARS FRUIT 
 
 Wilkinson in a blaze of wrath. "Kill the story 
 and and the man who wrote it. Is it in type?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Who knows it besides you and Flemming?" 
 
 "No one." 
 
 "If it gets around, you ll go the next minute. 
 Flemming can t keep his mouth shut. Pack him 
 off to to South Africa anywhere on any pre 
 text, but get him out of the way." 
 
 The speechless Wilkinson needed no further im 
 petus to speedy action. Two hours later he him 
 self saw Flemming board a western express and 
 reiterated his instructions to him not to appear 
 in New York again until he had received orders to 
 do so, or had discovered in the coast cities of 
 Japan a certain mysterious new sort of warship 
 said to be building in that country. He added 
 such imaginative details as he knew would make 
 the quest practically impossible. 
 
 Flemming, after the manner of the trained 
 journalist, to whom space and time are merely 
 relative terms, took his abrupt trip calmly enough. 
 He knew that it meant leisure, pleasant experi 
 ences and a liberal allowance of money. He did 
 not quite like the "killing" of his "story" of the 
 millionaire s daughter who was a nurse, and on 
 his way over he wrote an entertaining narrative 
 by deftly weaving fact and fiction together, and 
 sent it, with photographs he had secured, to a 
 certain monthly magazine that made a specialty 
 of personal sketches of the great, more or less 
 highly colored. That done he proceeded towards 
 Japan with a light heart and an approving con 
 science. 
 
 Price s interview with Wilkinson had been for
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 the purpose of ascertaining if Philip Craig s "copy" 
 for the morrow had been received, or if he was 
 likely to come to the office that day, but his excite 
 ment attending the discovery that he had been on 
 the very verge of arousing the bitter enmity of 
 John Peter Norton with the ill-fated Flemming 
 story, had driven all else from his mind. Now he 
 remembered that something had to be done along 
 the lines of the senator s direction, and, learning 
 that Craig was in the building, he summoned him 
 to the private room in the steel tower. He greeted 
 his contributor with exaggerated deference. 
 
 "How are you, Craig? Sit down, pray," he said. 
 "Wilkinson tells me you are not looking well, and, 
 indeed, I fear he is right. It may be that this 
 daily grind of copy is too much for you, added to 
 your other work. Hadn t you better take a vaca 
 tion?" 
 
 Craig s eyes opened wide for an instant. He 
 was not conscious of any special reason for solici 
 tude on the editor s part. He must look more 
 wearied than he felt, he reflected. But he repelled 
 the suggestion earnestly. 
 
 "I cannot, Mr. Price," he exclaimed. "Now, if 
 ever, my work is needed." 
 
 "Yes, I know; but you must give up some 
 thing." 
 
 "You are kind, but really there is no need. My 
 thinness and pallor are partly constitutional, 
 though, I admit, the strain is great." 
 
 Price saw that he must take another tack, or 
 port would never be reached. 
 
 "I thought you might not be averse to a rest," 
 he said gravely, "but since you are. I must speak 
 frankly. Your articles have aroused criticism as 
 
 320
 
 A LUNCHEON BEARS FRUIT 
 
 tending to excite lawlessness and shake public con 
 fidence/* 
 
 Indignation leaped to Philip s face and voice. 
 That he, the pleader for sobriety in all things, 
 should be accused of fomenting the very things 
 he wished to avoid ! 
 
 "Indeed," he replied. "What have I ever done 
 except to counsel moderation and respect for the 
 law?" 
 
 "1 know, I know," said Price with more suavity, 
 "but unfortunately all men are not alike. Others 
 interpret to their own ends. You know yourself 
 that violence often springs from movements under 
 taken with the most righteous motives by law- 
 abiding men." 
 
 "Yes, I am sorry to say I do," was the regretful 
 answer. "But the evil would come, anyway. No 
 article of mine can be pointed to that should not 
 make for patriotic action that is creditable to any 
 American." 
 
 "Yes, yes. But well, the fact is that I must 
 ask you to aid me in restoring public confidence." 
 
 Craig looked the heavy, flushed man straight in 
 the eye. There was no doubt, no mystery about 
 it now. This poseur, this fictitious "friend of the 
 people" was asking him to drug his convictions 
 and give the lie to every manly impulse of his 
 soul. 
 
 "By lying?" he asked, sternly. 
 
 "Well, yes, if you call it that to aid the nation in 
 time of need." 
 
 "It is the people who are in need, Mr. Price. 
 If the nation requires aid, it is aid from the people 
 against the politicians who twist and turn the laws 
 to their own advantage. Your meaning, how- 
 
 321
 
 OiV SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 ever, is plain. You wish to dictate my writings. 
 Such writings would be useless to us both. The 
 only alternative is that they cease altogether." 
 
 "Let them cease, then !" cried Price, in a crim 
 son rage, his anger at the coolness with which his 
 arguments were met putting to flight his desire 
 to compromise with the man who had such influ 
 ence over the readers of his papers. 
 
 "As you please," returned Craig calmly, and 
 with a bow he turned and left the room.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 A NEW PORTFOLIO. 
 
 THE summer had not advanced Philip Craig 
 very far from the sudden severance of his 
 relations with the American News before 
 he discovered that the event was of greater 
 moment than he had realized when he kicked 
 over the traces," as Price expressed it in a letter 
 to John Norton. Several papers to which he of 
 fered his services, among them some that had 
 tried to win him away from the News in the old 
 days, politely refused his tenders with various ex 
 cuses. "Our payroll is full" ; "we are already sup 
 plied with an abundance of similar material" were 
 some of the reasons advanced by the editors to 
 whom he wrote. 
 
 Only one of them was honest in the expression 
 of his views. This was Maurice Rosenfeld, form 
 erly the city editor of the American News, and 
 now editor and publisher for the new syndicate 
 that had purchased the Argus and its branches, 
 already a serious rival to the News. 
 
 "To be frank with you, Craig," he had said. 
 "I d like to print your stuff. It would win the 
 Argus much of the following Price lost when he 
 dropped you. But I simply can t do it. No news 
 paper is so great as to be able to scorn conserva 
 tive sentiment as reflected by its advertisers. The 
 community is scared, and it is not possible for a 
 
 323
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 paper to continue banging away at public confi 
 dence at such a time and not practically close its 
 counting room doors. It was all well enough to 
 cry wolf, wolf when the animal w r as only problem 
 atical, but now that he is actually in sight it is 
 necessary to tell people to look the other way or 
 try and persuade them that it is not a wolf at all, 
 but a lamb with an unfortunate habit of yelping." 
 
 "Then you admit the desperate straits of the 
 poor and middle classes?" Philip had asked earn 
 estly. 
 
 "Admit it? It s not necessary." 
 
 "Then why wouldn t it be the best policy for 
 at least one paper to tell the truth?" 
 
 "Truth, my dear Air. Craig," Rosenfeld had re 
 plied, his thin, dark little face lighting with the 
 pleasure of a valuable discovery, "is a beautiful 
 thing in the abstract, or at the bottom of a well, 
 but in a newspaper office it is often about the 
 worst possible asset. I venture to say that the 
 paper that tried to tell the truth, the whole truth 
 and nothing but the truth for ten days would find 
 its editor in jail or an insane asylum within a week. 
 Newspapers control and direct popular sentiment 
 to a degree; when the limit is reached, then they 
 yield to public opinion, and, with a wry face, must 
 beat an ignominious retreat, perhaps before the 
 advance of the very monster of excitement they 
 themselves have created." 
 
 So Philip had gone away, with an added respect 
 for Rosenfeld s acumen and a more comprehen 
 sive view of the ethics of journalism. 
 
 "Whatever the reason," he said to his father 
 one night, "no editor of all who were once so 
 anxious to get me away from the News will give 
 
 324
 
 A NEW PORTFOLIO 
 
 me an opportunity for a hearing not even as a 
 gratuitous contributor." 
 
 "Ah, weel, Philip," returned the old man, rock 
 ing slowly in his beloved chair the while, it s the 
 way o the warrld. The mair a body does for 
 some people the greater the contempt he is like tae 
 incur sometimes. It s a verra human failin not tae 
 like the rnon who shows us our fau ts." 
 
 "But they shall not gag me," exclaimed the 
 younger man, w r ith the air of one who had not 
 been listening. "Now, more than ever, my 
 message must go to the people." 
 
 "But how, Philip, how? Ye canna " 
 
 "Langmaid, Fairbrother, Ford and Brandt and 
 several other prominent leaders are coming here 
 tonight, aren t thev?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I will meet them." 
 
 "But I thought ye" 
 
 "That must rest for the present. We must move 
 at once. I will go to my room and get my plan 
 into practical working shape before they arrive. 
 Call me when they are all here." 
 
 Angus pondered long as to what his son was 
 intending. With closed eyes, he thought of that 
 and many other things as he gently swayed back 
 and forth, until the noise of footsteps on the porch 
 warned him of the approach of the company. He 
 was glad, for of late the little sessions of the read 
 ing club had grown quite infrequent ; Ford and 
 Langmaid were too busy with practical affairs, 
 while Fairbrother had been kept at home by the 
 wishes of his wife, who had begun to develop a 
 species of melancholia. Now it seemed like the 
 
 325
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 good old times, with the added zest of the presence 
 of noted leaders in his home. 
 
 By twos and threes they arrived, the last being 
 Brandt, the keen-witted, resolute German, who 
 greeted Angus with the serious courtesy of his 
 race. When he arrived, the old man addressed the 
 gathering briefly. 
 
 "My son, Philip, wishes tae speak tae ye a on 
 an important topic touchin the cause," he an 
 nounced. "I ll ca him." 
 
 In another moment Philip entered the room, 
 with a light in his eyes that Ford noted and re 
 joiced to see. 
 
 "Ah," he muttered to his neighbor, Langmaid, 
 "he looks as if he meant to act at last." 
 
 Philip began to speak, very quietly and earn 
 estly. 
 
 "You all know," he said, "that my influence 
 through the press has been stifled. You do not 
 know how. 1 have learned today that powerful 
 influences were exerted, that a great senator of a 
 great state came to this city with no other object 
 than a two-hour interview with Price, of the 
 American News, who, the same afternoon, forbade 
 me his columns." 
 
 There were hisses, groans, and cries of "shame" 
 and "gag-law" at this. 
 
 "Price would not have abandoned the course 
 which has made his paper what it is," he con 
 tinued, "except under great pressure. The atti 
 tude of Washington shows that the power of the 
 press is feared. Weakerdom, as I characterize the 
 men and women for whom we fight, is feared. 
 Do you know what that means, my friends?" 
 
 "It means that it is time to act," exclaimed 
 326
 
 A NEW PORTFOLIO 
 
 Ford sharply, and his words were received with 
 murmurs of assent and approbation. Philip 
 smiled approval, at which Ford wondered for a 
 moment. 
 
 "You are right. We must act. How? I had 
 thought of starting a newspaper in the interests 
 of Weakerdom, but the time for that has passed." 
 
 "It has," said Ford, and again the others agreed. 
 
 "It is time that the oppressed should prove their 
 strength, should demonstrate their unity. Capital 
 is organized, but it has the weakness of overcap 
 italization, like a building too high for its base. 
 Dividends paid on watered stock are sapping the 
 life-blood of the people. More than ever with 
 America it is every man for himself. For their 
 own salvation the people must act. We must 
 show our strength, peaceably but effectively." 
 
 "Peaceably ! Humph !" growled Ford half- 
 aloud. "Haven t we been peaceable long enough, 
 and had nothing come of it?" 
 
 "I am of no politics," went on Philip calmly. 
 "I vote for men. I am working for no class; work- 
 ingmen and employers are alike to me. Both 
 have rights to be respected ; both may have 
 wrongs. I am for the people who suffer; who are 
 oppressed. Let us plan together." 
 
 Then for over an hour Philip talked rapidly 
 and earnestly, now and then reading from notes 
 his plan, which, his enthralled listeners found, was 
 the perfecting of a unique organization. Under 
 the simple name of "United Men of America" he 
 proposed to gather all who labored for a daily 
 wage for one purpose self-assertion. 
 
 "This must not be a political party," he con 
 cluded, "It must be a political potver, working 
 
 327
 
 through and upon present political parties and 
 present office-holders. In no other way shall we 
 be taken with the seriousness that the situation 
 demands." 
 
 Even Ford joined in the cheers that followed. 
 His keen scent detected the growth of an organ 
 ization which might easily be made to fulfil his 
 cherished dreams of "action." 
 
 Then details were earnestly discussed, and every 
 man was called upon to present his views. As for 
 way and means, Philip gave assurances that money 
 for the expenses of organization would be readily 
 forthcoming. When the meeting broke up the 
 little party went forth with a definite idea in their 
 minds. It was settled that organizers should be 
 appointed for every state, and that Philip should 
 speak for the cause in every great city. 
 
 Through the summer the work went on, re 
 ceived with intense enthusiasm everywhere. Open- 
 air meetings all over the country served to recruit 
 hundreds of thousands under the new banner, so 
 that with the beginning of autumn the growth of 
 the strange order, whose members pledged them 
 selves simply to "the good of fellow man," filled 
 Washington with astonishment and some degree 
 of apprehension. The practical results of the 
 movement could not be foreseen, since its founders 
 made no claim for it. But the name was not re 
 assuring. "United Men of America" was regarded 
 as a veiled threat, and the party in power feared 
 for the results on the fall congressional elections. 
 
 One hint, however, the politically wise were 
 quick to take. It was voiced by Craig in the 
 rather primitive form of handbills and posters. 
 "Every interest is represented in the councils of 
 
 328
 
 A NEW PORTFOLIO 
 
 state at Washington," it read, "except that of the 
 man who works." 
 
 When the inspired newspapers chief among 
 which, curiously enough, was Mr. Orville W. 
 Price s American News failed to check the 
 growth of the new brotherhood by crying "social 
 ism," and when the politicians began to see a 
 definite effect on the elections, the leaders of the 
 dominant party awoke one day and determined 
 that something must be done. Just what was a 
 question that puzzled the most astute of them. 
 
 The suggestion for action came from a hitherto 
 despised source, a weak-voiced, weak-minded sen 
 ator from a western state, who had vaulted into 
 the upper chamber from the heights of his heap 
 of gold, amassed in the manufacture of a superior 
 sort of pickles. That man one day had an idea. 
 Andrew Haven might have explained the seeming 
 paradox by telling that it took full two hours to 
 force that idea into the pickle-senator s head, and 
 to make him realize fully what John Norton 
 wanted him to do. 
 
 However, the idea, once implanted, did fairly 
 well, and finally came to be regarded as the spon 
 taneous sentiment of the Senate. In this form it 
 reached the ears of President Burlingame, at a 
 time when public dissatisfaction at existing condi 
 tions was at its height. In due course of events 
 the idea bore fruit in the shape of a message from 
 the President to Philip Craig, requesting an inter 
 view. 
 
 Philip s respect for the office, as well as the man, 
 whom he had personally known as the governor of 
 a great state, brought him speedily to Washing 
 ton. Within a few hours he was closeted with the 
 
 329
 
 OA r SATAX S MOUXT 
 
 chief executive. At the close of the interview he 
 returned to his hotel to ponder alone on the 
 strange dispensation fate was again revealing to 
 him. In the evening he saw the President again, 
 and announced his decision. Within an hour he 
 started on his way to New York. 
 
 The members of Congress were now beginning 
 to assemble for the extra session which President 
 Burlingame had called for the third week in Oc 
 tober "in view of the self-evident demand for the 
 sitting of the supreme legislative body." His ene 
 mies called this action a desperate attempt to 
 avert defeat in the elections; even the leaders of 
 his own party had opposed the move, as unneces 
 sary in view of the quickly impending regular ses 
 sion and as giving the public clamorers an exag 
 gerated idea of their own importance. 
 
 But since James Burlingame had succeeded 
 from the vice-presidency to the executive chair 
 early in the spring, by reason of the death of his 
 predecessor from a chronic malady, he had sur 
 prised and disappointed many of those who had 
 been instrumental in putting him in the second 
 place on the ticket by exhibiting initiative of the 
 righteous sort, and by clearly demonstrating that 
 he was by no means the servant of the chiefs in 
 the councils of his party. He therefore adhered 
 stoutly to his determination, and the extra session 
 was convened. 
 
 After some minor appointments had been con 
 firmed by the Senate, President Burlingame sent 
 a message to Congress recommending the creation 
 of a "Department of Industry" as an addition to 
 the official bureaus of the government. "Com 
 merce under the recent law has its department," he 
 
 330
 
 A NEW PORTFOLIO 
 
 wrote. "Industry, that makes our nation what it 
 is, should not be ignored." 
 
 With the utmost celerity a bill was passed under 
 suspension of the rules, putting the President s 
 wishes into practical shape. A day after it had 
 been signed, the portfolio of the new department 
 had been offered to Philip Craig, of New York, 
 and accepted. 
 
 With the public announcement of the name, the 
 country was very doubtful if the appointment 
 would be confirmed by the Senate. Bitter enmity 
 toward Craig was known to exist, especially 
 among those whose word was the law of the upper 
 branch, and laboring men already denounced the 
 capitalist senators for their prospective action. 
 But the unexpected happened, and Philip Craig s 
 nomination was confirmed with absolute una 
 nimity. Senator John P. Norton had moved the 
 confirmation himself, and no other of his party 
 cared to be put on record as against him. With 
 his personal friends the significant remark that the 
 whole thing \vas a "sop to Cerberus" did much to 
 allay their anxiety and convince them that no 
 harm was to come to wealth. 
 
 Labor and the common people greeted the ap 
 pointment as a victory of great and splendid possi 
 bilities. Bon-fires blazed on thousands of hill-tops, 
 enormous torch-light parades of the "United Men 
 of America" took place, thanksgiving services 
 were held, and everywhere sprung up the hope of 
 the dawn of a better day. 
 
 33 !
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 A BRACE OF INTERVIEWS. 
 
 ATYPICAL January storm was raging over 
 Washington. Great gusts of wind tore 
 clown the broad streets, laden now with 
 rain, again with sleet, and finally with heavy, moist 
 snow, that clung to everything like splashes of 
 paint, and transformed the city into an arctic cap 
 ital, magnificent in its massive, white beauty. 
 
 A short, stout man whose identity was com 
 pletely hidden in the darkness by the folds of his 
 storm coat and the eaves of his slouch hat, and 
 who alighted from an open automobile that had 
 come to a stop before an imposing mansion on 
 Alaska A. venue, was in no mood to see any of the 
 picturesqueness of the night. He shook himself 
 in canine fashion and beat his hat against the iron 
 work of a handsome gate set in a heavy stone wall 
 that surrounded the house. 
 
 "Whew," he sputtered, as he waited a moment 
 for the automobile to disappear, "this Washington 
 weather is the worst in the world. They tell us 
 that they have mild winters ! Ugh !" And he 
 stamped the wet snow from his well-shaped boots, 
 turned to a small side entrance in the wall, and 
 pressed a tiny button. The door opened and he 
 passed in. 
 
 "This wa) 7 ," said an apologetic voice in guarded 
 tones. One might have thought that the speaker 
 
 332
 
 A BRACE OF INTERVIEWS 
 
 deemed himself responsible for the atrocious 
 weather. 
 
 As the two entered the house, the one who had 
 played sentinel at the gate said in a whisper: 
 
 "It is all right now. Count. We shall meet no 
 one." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Haven," replied the other, 
 throwing aside his dripping hat and coat. "We 
 cannot be too careful for Mr. Norton s sake." 
 
 "He is waiting for you. Beg pardon, but you 
 are going the wrong way. Follow me, please." 
 
 In the library they found John Norton awaiting 
 them, pacing restlessly to and fro, and just in the 
 act of consulting his watch. He greeted Sand- 
 Strom with a relief that was heightened by Haven s 
 assertion that no one had seen him enter. 
 
 "You evidently received my wire," said the 
 Count, when the social amenities had been briefly 
 disposed of. 
 
 "Yes Mr. Haven." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Will you kindly step into the next room, and 
 see that we are not interrupted? I am forced to 
 take every precaution," he explained, as Haven 
 retired as gingerly as though he were party to 
 some dark and terrible plot. 
 
 "Well, it wouldn t do for the world to know of 
 my visit here," admitted the Count. "Yet, after 
 all, it is only simple business." He lit a cigarette 
 and blew the smoke through his nostrils appre 
 ciatively. 
 
 "It s not that," replied Norton quickly. "I fear 
 nothing open, but of late I have been receiving 
 threatening letters. Some of them have been left 
 in this room, and no one could be found to ac- 
 
 333
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT. 
 
 knowledge their delivery. One was found fixed to 
 this desk with a bowie see the mark there?" 
 
 Sandstrom s eye followed the direction of a 
 trembling finger and detected in the polished rose 
 wood a slit that made him give a little shiver. Yet 
 stranger still were the signs of shaken nerves on 
 the part of John Norton, the man he had learned 
 to consider as absolutely made of iron. He fell to 
 wondering what else had happened since he had 
 seen him last. 
 
 "It s a terrible thing, Sandstrom, to have ene 
 mies you cannot see. I d fight without fear so 
 long as my enemy met me face to face. But this 
 intangibility, these threats of nameless things"- 
 he laughed in a strained way "are boogerish, as 
 we used to say when we were boys. And, do you 
 know, some of the letters have hinted that you are 
 considered a spy here against the interests of Eng 
 land and Russia. I hear that the legations, even. 
 are whispering it." 
 
 The Count smiled derisively. 
 
 "Let them say what they please," he rejoined 
 coolly. "I am serving my country ; that is enough 
 for me." 
 
 Norton appeared to regain his old impassiveness 
 as he noted Sandstrom s unruffled air. 
 
 "Let s proceed to business," he said decisively, 
 and the half-hour s conversation that followed ap 
 peared eminently satisfactory to both. 
 
 "In what shape is the money?" Norton asked at 
 length. 
 
 "In drafts on London, payable to bearer. I 
 knew that would be safer for you." 
 
 "Good." 
 
 The Count produced a pocketbook, and drew 
 334
 
 A BRACE OF INTERVIEWS 
 
 from it a large envelope of blue paper, which he 
 handed to Norton politely, remarking : 
 
 "You will find it correct, I think 300,000 
 pounds." 
 
 The Senator verified the amount carefully, and 
 put the packet away near his breast. 
 
 "Quite correct," he said. He felt all at once as 
 if he had received the invisible protection of some 
 supernatural power. This substantial amount of 
 money covering his heart seemed at once a de 
 fiance and an armor. For the first time in many 
 days he lit a cigar, and sank back into his chair 
 with more of comfort than he had experienced for 
 a long time. 
 
 "And now about the supplies," began Sand- 
 strom, anxious to know that the compact was in 
 good order on both sides ; he had felt a bit of un 
 easiness at the first sight of Norton that night. 
 "Can we be assured that they will not fail?" 
 
 "Most assuredly. The market is quite under 
 control." 
 
 "But Congress? My government has heard " 
 
 "That it would pass a law forbidding the expor 
 tation of food-stuffs, I suppose? Mere political 
 buncombe. Men in this country sell to the high 
 est bidder." 
 
 "But the papers say," persisted the German, 
 "that a poll of the House presages the passage of 
 the bill." 
 
 Norton sneered quite in his old-time manner. 
 
 "Newspaper polls and straw votes are absolutely 
 worthless, except to the other side. And even if 
 the House passes such a bill, the Senate will not. 
 I give you my word on that." 
 
 335
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Quite sufficient, Mr. Norton," said Sandstrom, 
 bowing. "But supposing " 
 
 "I gave you my word once ; I have kept it at 
 no little cost I assure you." 
 
 "Cost? Why, my government " 
 
 "Your government is very rich and powerful," 
 replied the Senator with a grim smile, "but it can 
 not pay this particular kind of cost the expendi 
 ture of a man s peace of mind." 
 
 "But you are not known," observed Sandstrom, 
 with a growing conviction that not even he had 
 penetrated the complexities of this strange char 
 acter, nor ever would. The man who could crush 
 with a ruthless hand innocent and guilty alike 
 prating of "peace of mind," like a weakling with a 
 conscience! It was too much for his Teutonic 
 philosophy, and he gave up the attempt at analysis. 
 
 "No, I am not known," Norton was saying, 
 "but I am suspected, and suspicion is often more 
 damning than certainty. Unfortunately for the 
 country, last summer s floods ruined nearly half 
 of our crops, as you know, and injured much of 
 the remainder. Nature, as usual, goes blameless 
 with the people, and we of capital, or, at least, we 
 who make the laws, have to shoulder the responsi 
 bility." 
 
 "I regret the " began the Count, but scarcely 
 knew his next word. Norton saved him from 
 embarrassment. 
 
 "It is not necessary, Count. It is a business 
 deal; its results are unpreventable. The people 
 have to take the bitter and the sweet, like the rest 
 of us. But you are confident that the war will 
 soon end?" 
 
 336
 
 A BRACE OF INTERVIEWS 
 
 "Quite. Long wars in these days of great arma 
 ments are too expensive. 
 
 I hope so, I hope so," muttered Norton with a 
 return of his depressed air. "It is a great strain, 
 very great, indeed." 
 
 When Sandstrom reached the snowy air again, 
 he threw away his cigarette with an impatient ges 
 ture and twisted his great moustachios vigorously. 
 Nor did the companionship of Haven, who had 
 been ordered to return to New York that night, 
 and was on his way to his hotel to prepare for the 
 journey, give him any especial comfort. He had 
 seen a weak spot in the armor of a man he had 
 deemed impregnable, and he feared lest the defect 
 should grow until others, too, could perceive the 
 
 flaw. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 The National Hotel, a magnificent new struc 
 ture much affected by politicians, if not statesmen, 
 was Mazing with light and resounding with the 
 babel of men in every form of conversation, from 
 the exchange of risque stories to the violence of 
 party argument. The storm had driven in the 
 floating population, who regarded the place as a 
 sort of political barometer, while the regular habi 
 tues remained in the lobbies, the barrooms and the 
 billiard halls, not displeased to see the tide of noisy 
 life that eddied in and about them and created 
 an activity that was inspiring, and in some cases, 
 valuable. 
 
 In a cheerful room somewhat apart from the 
 clatter, three men stood talking earnestly. Craig, 
 Ford and Langmaid had not met since Philip s 
 coming to Washington, and the two visitors, or 
 Ford, at least, had evidently been giving vent to 
 
 33?
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 utterances that were not wholly making for peace. 
 The tall, spare Ford was excited, and excitement 
 always made of him an impressive figure. Further 
 more, he now dressed with much care in minis 
 terial black, and the strong-jawed, sallow face, the 
 dark, cavernous eyes and the long, black hair sur 
 mounted by a wide-brimmed soft hat made him a 
 man likely to attract attention anywhere. Lang- 
 maid had changed little, but even he seemed to 
 have acquired a pessimism which he had formerly 
 kept pretty well in subjection. His shifty little 
 eyes were as nearly fixed on Philip as he could fix 
 them on anybody, while Ford was saying some 
 thing that he had feared would bring on an ex 
 plosion. 
 
 "See here, Ford, you know as well as any man 
 living what I have done for the cause you have so 
 often misrepresented," said the new secretary of 
 industry warmly. "I don t doubt your honesty of 
 purpose, but your mistake is just as great. This 
 congress of men assembled through the machinery 
 of the organization which T inspired and began " 
 
 "And then dropped," broke in Ford sullenly. 
 
 "Which I inspired and began, and which could 
 not have existed but for me this congress can do 
 great good, but it can do greater harm." 
 
 "I don t admit the harm." 
 
 "That remains to be seen, Ford. Its presence 
 in the city at a time when Congress will be con 
 sidering measures of relief 
 
 The other laughed bitterly. 
 
 "That s just it always considering, never 
 doing." 
 
 "Its assembling here, I say, may be regarded as 
 a threat," 
 
 338
 
 A BRACE OF INTERVIEWS 
 
 "What if it is?" muttered Ford under his 
 breath. As an avowed man of action, he could see 
 no harm in that, either. 
 
 "And if disorder should come, the cause of the 
 rights of the common people will receive a serious 
 blow." 
 
 "But Philip," interposed Langmaid, with con 
 ciliatory mildness, "the delegates are good men." 
 
 "But good men smarting under wrongs. If 
 they are discreet and rightfully led, they will do 
 no harm, but I am honestly afraid of the outcome." 
 
 "If you would only preside," suggested Lang- 
 maid, with genuine appeal in his voice. He was 
 loyal to his chief, as he always called him, yet he 
 sincerely believed that the times were ripe for the 
 self-assertion of the people. 
 
 "I cannot," replied Craig. "It is not even wise 
 that I address the gathering, in view of my official 
 position as their representative. But I have de 
 cided that T will speak if" he looked meaningly 
 at Ford "if there is no evidence of a disposition 
 to create disorder or make threats against the gov 
 ernment. You may say this to the committee." 
 
 Ford s mind worked rapidly. He felt that it 
 would be no credit to himself should he return to 
 New York and say that he could neither persuade 
 nor force the secretary to speak before the Peo 
 ple s Congress. And he knew that he could not 
 accomplish his mission unless he disavowed any 
 desire to make trouble. He spoke with all mild 
 ness. 
 
 "I m sure, Philip, I m for nothing except what s 
 needed. I wouldn t have urged this congress if 
 if" 
 
 "Why don t you out with it? If 1 had done 
 339
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 what you expected me to do when I was put at 
 the head of the department of industry!" 
 
 "Well, that s about it," replied Ford grimly. He 
 could not resist showing their old-time leader how 
 he had disappointed the group he represented, 
 even though it might mean personal offence. But 
 Craig held his temper in leash. 
 
 "I have done all I could," he said. "But I be 
 lieve and you may say this, too, in New York 
 that relief will soon be forthcoming. President 
 Rurlingame has given me reason for confidence. 
 Now good-night, gentlemen. It is late, and I have 
 much to do." And he pointed to a table upon 
 which was a great pile of letters and papers await- 
 ine attention. 
 
 ^Good-night, Philip," said Ford. "I ll say to 
 the committee that you ll talk to the congress, 
 then?" 
 
 "On the conditions I named, yes." 
 
 "Good-night. Mr. Craig," said Langmaid. 
 " You ll find the delegates a right good set of 
 men." 
 
 "I don t doubt it, Joseph. It all depends on the 
 leaders. See to it that they know how to lead. 
 Good-night." 
 
 340
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 ANDREW HAVEN S EVENING CALL. 
 
 FORD and Langmaid passed into the next 
 room to pay their parting respects to Angus 
 Craig, who had been with his son since the 
 latter s coming to Washington. The old man was 
 now intensely proud of Philip, with that added 
 comfortable feeling that to the father s character 
 was due some of the son s glory. He was a fiery 
 partisan, naturally, and it would have fared rather 
 badly with Ford had he dared to say to him the 
 things he had not hesitated to fling in Philip s 
 teeth. 
 
 As a matter of fact, Luke had been right to the 
 extent that he represented the opinion of the con 
 stituency that had sent him to Washington. Ever 
 since the creation of the Department of Industry, 
 the appointment of Craig to the office and his 
 prompt confirmation by the Senate, it had been 
 hopefully believed by those who ruled the United 
 Men of America that sweeping reforms would im 
 mediately be made. They expected their strong 
 and brilliant leader to buckle on the armor of 
 righteousness at once, and proceed to slay the 
 dragon of social injustice without more ado. 
 When the combat did not take place, they began 
 to have serious misgivings that the "great triumph 
 of American labor" which was proclaimed with 
 
 341
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 such joy at first, was scarcely more than a victory 
 on paper. 
 
 However, neither Ford nor his companion said 
 anything of the sort to Angus. This was to be a 
 purely social occasion, an hours renewal of ties 
 which still held them in memory, if not in practice. 
 
 "Weel, an how d ye fine Philip?" asked the old 
 man cheerily. "In a gude way, I ken, for he s a 
 right the noo. It s a fine thing for the people that 
 they hae such a mon in the councils o the great. 
 Eh?" 
 
 "We hope so. Angus, surely," replied Lang- 
 maid, "hut time ll tell better than we. We called 
 in to bid you good-bye, for we re going back to 
 New York at midnight." 
 
 "The nicht?" said Angus with surprise. "Mon, 
 but ye re tumble fellows for the travel. Weel, 
 weel; an ye expect tae sleep on those rackettin 
 cars?" 
 
 "We ll sleep all right," replied Ford, "for we ve 
 done enough to-day to put us to rest in a boiler 
 factory. But," he added judiciously, "perhaps it 
 ivonhl be better it we had some sort of a night-cap. 
 Suppose we all go down to the. bar and have a 
 parting smile." 
 
 "Verra weel, for ankl times sake I ll gae wi 
 ye," assented Angus, not ill-pleased at the pros 
 pect of a glass of excellent Scotch, well brewed 
 and comfortably hot. 
 
 On his way back to his room, after parting with 
 his friends, he came fairly upon Andrew Haven in 
 the. corridor. 
 
 The very sight of this smirking, deprecatory 
 little man roused every slumbering passion in the 
 Scotchman s heart. In the one instant that he 
 
 342
 
 ANDREW HAT/EN S EVENING CALL 
 
 faced him all the various acts of enmity from 
 which he had suffered trooped past in his mind. 
 It was Haven who had repaid loyalty with 
 treachery in the watch-factory episode years be 
 fore ; it was he who had attempted to thrust him 
 from his home ; it was he who, he believed, had 
 . c et the tide of suspicion against him as a thief in 
 the matter of the Onometer certificates; it was he 
 who had ever been his evil genius, the one enemy 
 upon whom he could lay his finger with certainty. 
 And now the man was before him, and with him 
 the opportunity to tell him what a villain and a cur 
 he believed him to be. He was delighted beyond 
 measure, and he smiled sarcastically as he said 
 with exaggerated courtesy: 
 
 "Ah, Maister Haven; I m verra glad tae see 
 you, sir." 
 
 "Oh, it s you, is it, Craig?" replied the other, not 
 at all at ease, though assuming an air of nonchal 
 ance. "I T beg pardon. I didn t quite recall you 
 at first. You have 
 
 "Changed, is it, Maister Haven? Maybe, may 
 be. But just step inside, an ye ll see me better in 
 the licht." 
 
 "Why, I I " stammered the other, "well, you 
 must excuse me, but I " 
 
 "Oh, coom in, coom in. I ll nae detain ye 
 tang." 
 
 "Well, if you insist," murmured Haven. He 
 wondered what the man wanted with him at such 
 a place and hour. He felt still more uneasy and 
 confused when Angus calmly locked the door and 
 put the key in his pocket. 
 
 "I really it may be curiosity, merely," he be- 
 
 343
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 gan, "but I really would like to know why you 
 locked the door." 
 
 "Oh, wad ye, Maister Haven," said Angus con 
 temptuously. "Ye wad, eh? Weel, I ll tell ye 
 tae keep ye in." 
 
 "To keep me in?" blustered Haven. "This is a 
 scandal, sir, nothing less." 
 
 "Not the fairst ye hae been in, I ken." 
 
 "Open the door, sir." 
 
 "Ye seem tae be in a sair hurry, Maister Haven. 
 Ye re not responsive tae my hospitality, mon. It 
 should na be thus wi auld friens. But I ll tell ye, 
 sir, that I ll open the door when I m through wi 
 ye, an not before. Sit down. Na? Weel, stand 
 up, then, but listen. Ye er path and mine hae 
 crossed often in life, by nane o my seekin . Ye 
 dismissed me from ye er employ " 
 
 "The company not I. A vote of the com 
 pany." 
 
 "We ll pass that the noo. Ye tried tae drive me 
 frae my house; we ll pass that, too. But why did 
 ye accuse me, an honest mon, o the theft o ye er 
 stock certeeficates?" 
 
 "Why, I I didn t." 
 
 "Yes, ye did. Ye said nae ane had touched 
 them but yersel , the superintendent in your pres 
 ence, an me." 
 
 "Well, that was the truth, wasn t it?" asked 
 Haven, with a feeble little tone of triumph. Craig s 
 eyes flashed fire, and his hands clenched menac 
 ingly. 
 
 "Yes, it 7vas the truth," he shouted, "but when 
 you said the ccrteencates were taken from that 
 package before I handed it tae you, ye lied !" 
 
 "Mr. Craig, Mr. Craig, you-" 
 
 344
 
 ANDREW HAVEN S EVENING CALL 
 
 "Ye needn t Maister me. Plain Craig is gude 
 enouch. Tell the truth noo, if ye never did be 
 fore." 
 
 "I tell you, as I said then, that the certificates 
 were sold." 
 
 "But who sauld em? 
 
 "How can T tell?" 
 
 They were signed," said Angus scornfully. 
 
 "Yes; they couldn t have been sold otherwise." 
 
 "By Armstrong as president, an you as treas 
 urer?" 
 
 "Yes, I was treasurer then." A look of alarm 
 came into the mean little eyes as Angus went to a 
 desk, fumbled in a drawer and brought out a crisp, 
 folded paper. It was a stock certificate. 
 
 "This," said the old man, "is one of the certeefi- 
 cates that were intended tae be cancelled, an which 
 were stolen, isn t it?" Haven took it gingerly and 
 peered at it closely through his great, round spec 
 tacles. 
 
 "Yes, the error in the second line is here. How 
 do you happen to have it?" 
 
 "Eh, mon? I bought it frae its owner as evi 
 dence years ago. An that is ye er seegnature?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly." 
 
 "Then how did it happen, Maister Andrew 
 Haven, that ye er seegnature was put on it after it 
 had left my hands?" 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Ye ken weel enouch what I mean. When the 
 certeeficates came tae me they were signed by the 
 president only. When they were sauld they bore 
 ye er seegnature." 
 
 "Nonsense," returned Haven with more spirit 
 than he had yet exhibited. He began to feel that 
 
 345
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 his position was improving. "Nonsense; I signed 
 all three. This was number two." 
 
 "Yes it is number twa. Twa and three were 
 nae signed by you, but number ane was." 
 
 "Absurd," sneered the other. Now, if you 
 have finished your examination, I ll go." And he 
 rose from his chair to take his hat from the table. 
 
 Angus sprang at him with the fury and strength 
 of a maddened animal, seized him by the throat 
 and forced him squirming and sputtering into his 
 chair. 
 
 "Ye ll not gae, Maister Haven," he thundered, 
 still holding the other s neck in his muscular grip, 
 "till I wring the truth frae ye er fause heart. I tell 
 ye, ye signed that certeeficate after it left my 
 hands. Look," and he relaxed his hold, and 
 pointed to the certificate which he held before 
 Haven s face. "When I made the change in the 
 plate it rested on the certeeficate. In changing 
 the bottom border my graver slipped, an made a 
 deep cut in the certeeficate. This is the ane look 
 here. You signed ower it, and the ink ran in the 
 path my tool had cut. The magnifying glass 
 don t lie as you do." 
 
 Trapped, baffled, at bay, Haven had no more 
 defense to make, except the one recourse of de 
 fiance. He laughed insultingly. 
 
 "Well, what if I did? You can t prove it. 
 Who d believe you ?" 
 
 "Why did ye do this?" demanded Angus, 
 sternly. 
 
 "Because," replied the other, furious with an 
 anger that could only vent itself in hostile words, 
 "because I hated you, or, rather, your son, which 
 is the same thing. I ll crush him yet." 
 
 346
 
 ANDREW HAVEN S EVENING CALL 
 
 "Crush him?" jeered the old man in the full 
 pride of a great possession. He is a member of 
 the cabinet!" 
 
 "Cabinet !" sneered the other. "A stick of wood 
 put under lock and key to keep people from 
 stumbling over it that s your precious son." 
 
 "Dinna ye believe it. He ll win for the people 
 yet." 
 
 Haven felt sure of his ground now. He had 
 heard and seen enough in his capacity of syco 
 phant to assure him how matters stood in political 
 circles. If he could make this terrible old man 
 wince, he would do it with the greatest delight in 
 the world. "Win!" he echoed. "They ll be 
 laughing at him as a miserable failure in a month 
 or two. John Norton will see to that." 
 
 "Norton? Imph," snorted Angus derisively. 
 What was Norton against his son now? 
 
 "It s Norton who s doing it all," continued 
 Haven. "He is the man who is manipulating the 
 foodstuffs your son preaches about. He controls 
 the Senate, and when he says so, Philip Craig will 
 go!" 
 
 "Where to, Mr. Haven?" asked a new voice, as 
 Philip pushed open a door behind the speakers. 
 "There are plenty of places, to be sure, but don t 
 you think Mr. Norton might resent your violation 
 of his confidence?" 
 
 For the first time it flashed over Haven that he 
 had made a consummate fool of himself, and he 
 could have bitten his tongue out for his indiscre 
 tion. His ruddy face grew sallow, and his lips 
 twitched like those of a man in pain. 
 
 "Ye ve heard, Philip?" asked his father. 
 
 "Everything." 
 
 347
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "So you descend to eavesdropping, then?" said 
 Haven, feebly. 
 
 "Quite as respectable, especially when I 
 couldn t help hearing, as trying to force guilt on 
 an innocent man." 
 
 Haven rose unsteadily and walked toward the 
 door. 
 
 "I demand to be released from this room," he 
 said, with as much dignity as he could muster. 
 The others were totally unmoved. 
 
 "In a moment, Mr. Haven," said Philip. He 
 sat at a table and hastily wrote something on a 
 heavy sheet of paper. "You may go after you 
 have signed this statement that Angus Craig was 
 not responsible for the disappearance of the certi 
 ficates that you sold yourself." 
 
 "I didn t sell them ; they were stolen " 
 
 "After you had signed them ? How considerate 
 you were of the thief!" 
 
 Haven quivered with rage, and insanely rattled 
 the handle of the door as if he expected anger to 
 defeat locksmiths, or some servant to come to his 
 aid. But nothing happened except the continu 
 ance of Philip s cold and pitiless words of sen 
 tence. 
 
 "This statement, you will observe, is addressed 
 to the President of the Metropolitan Bank Note 
 Engraving Company. It simply says that you 
 know the identity of the thief and regret your 
 error in regard to my father. Sign it." 
 
 "I 1 will have the " stammered Haven, with 
 one last implied threat of despair. 
 
 "Sign it. or I shall send for the police and prefer 
 charges against you. You know what they will 
 be." 
 
 348
 
 ANDREW HAVEN S EVENING CALL 
 
 The little man tottered to the desk, seized a pen, 
 and dashed it across the foot of the paper. Then 
 he rose without a word and went to the door, 
 which Angus had unlocked and at which he stood 
 with elaborate courtesy. 
 
 "Gude evening, Maister Haven," he said, bow 
 ing. <; A verra delightful and profitable call ye hae 
 made us, tae be sure. Some time again " But 
 his words were lost on the retreating figure that 
 trotted down the corridor with more haste than it 
 had known since boyhood. 
 
 Angus turned to his son with a glorified smile of 
 love, of pride and of perfect confidence, and 
 grasped his hand with tender warmth. 
 
 "Aye, lad." he said with moist eyes. "For the 
 warrk o this nicht I I thank ye. Thegither we ll 
 defy a the power o the plutocrats, an great ll be 
 the victory." 
 
 But Philip sighed, and went back to his desk. 
 
 349
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 MANOEUVRES IN FORCE. 
 
 IT was the clear and rosy dawn of a morning in 
 mid-April over the city of Washington. A 
 white mist stole up from its bed on the Poto 
 mac, wavered gently in spiral wreaths about the 
 higher banks, and then melted away in the pink 
 glow that suffused the warmer air. Around the 
 great Coliseum chosen by the United Men of 
 America for the theatre of their strange Congress, 
 silence reigned, scarcely broken by the twitter of 
 the half-awakened birds that made their nest under 
 its protecting eaves. No sentinel paced before its 
 broad, low entrance ; no human being had guarded 
 it during the night. There it stood in its simple 
 strength, a silent factor, no man knew how potent, 
 for good or ill. 
 
 As the sun touched the roof of the long 
 structure with momentary gold, the thin song of a 
 bugle was wafted from the green heights across 
 the murky river. A lone policeman who had just 
 turned a corner rubbed his sleepy eyes at what he 
 saw. A great, white tented city had sprung up 
 during the night, and in front of it frowned a long 
 line of machine guns, trained, it would seem, on 
 the very spot he occupied. After a little the of 
 ficer remembered that the Army of the East had 
 been ordered to concentrate at the capital to take 
 part in the great national celebration of the Nine- 
 
 350
 
 MANOEUVRES IN FORCE 
 
 teenth of April, during which a colossal statue of 
 the Minute Man was to be unveiled by the Presi 
 dent. He smiled sarcastically as his glance shifted 
 from the bristling rows of guns to the silent white 
 Coliseum ; then he walked slowly on over his beat. 
 
 Sudden life sprang into the tented field across 
 the way. Figures emerged from the little canvas 
 houses like rabbits from a warren, and ran about 
 in the orderly haste of a camp. Thin lines of 
 smoke mounted into the still air like shafts of 
 fleecy cotton suspended by some invisible pow r er. 
 The polished utensils of the open-air kitchen 
 caught the light of the sun and sent its glittering 
 rays flashing abroad. The men in blouses and 
 slouch hats could be seen lined up in their com 
 pany streets for roll-call, and then marching to the 
 great ovens with their plates and mugs, whence 
 they returned to discuss breakfast, squatting be 
 fore their tents in luxurious disorder. 
 
 Before the great city was fairly astir the troops 
 answered to the surgeon s call, little knots of men 
 appearing at the end of company streets to give 
 the doctors a description of their real or fancied 
 ailments. Soon after, the brilliant strains of mili 
 tary bands rose on the air for guard mount, and 
 the swift evolutions, so mysterious and meaning 
 less to the citizenry, were in full swing. By this 
 time the people of Washington had waked to the 
 presence of the great army opposite, and hundreds 
 of early sightseers thronged the river streets and 
 watched each movement on the heights with 
 greedy eyes. For years the capital had seen no 
 army mobilization, and the fascination of the sol 
 diery was more powerful for its novelty. 
 
 Around the Coliseum knots of men began to
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 collect for the first session of the People s Con 
 gress to which they were delegates. Earnest, 
 sturdy fellows they seemed to be for the most 
 part, many bearing the marks of toil peculiar to 
 their respective callings. Here and there were 
 faces telling of intellectuality and high spiritual 
 purposes; again were the features that spoke of 
 violent and disorderly souls, but both were enor 
 mously outnumbered by the men of ordinary cal 
 ibre and an honest desire to get simple justice by 
 simple means. But the presence of the military 
 across the Potomac embittered them all, and they 
 answered the frown of each gun by frowns of ten 
 fold intensity. 
 
 The esplanade before the Coliseum filled rap 
 idly; all sections might be seen in representation, 
 from the trig mechanic of the north to the lank 
 and bony man of the far south-west. Many made 
 their way into the building, but the great majority 
 lingered outside, their eyes fixed with indignant 
 curiosity on the show of force over against them. 
 
 "Hullo, Fax," cried a shock-headed man who 
 looked like a boy in arrested development, "I sup 
 posed I d find you here. The last time I saw you 
 was at the St. Louis convention, wasn t it?" The 
 two shook hands warmly. 
 
 "Yes," replied the studious appearing little in 
 dividual addressed, "but political conventions long 
 ago ceased to interest me, Howard." 
 
 "All promises and we-view-with-alarms, and no 
 deeds, eh? Let s see, you belong here in Wash 
 ington now, don t you? Delegate?" 
 
 The other nodded. 
 
 "Nice reception Washington gives us," growled 
 Howard, pointing to the muzzles of the machine 
 
 352
 
 MANOEUVRES IN FORCE 
 
 guns that seemed to be peering with brazen cur 
 iosity at the doings about the building. 
 
 "The soldiers?" said the other deprecatingly. 
 "Well, it does look queer, ( but the celebration of 
 the anniversary of Lexington and Concord was 
 determined upon long before the date fixed for the 
 People s Congress, you know." 
 
 "Are you sure of that, friend?" 
 
 The new voice was nasal and incisive, and its 
 owner a tall, spare man carefully dressed in minis 
 terial black. A crowd at once encircled the group, 
 for I /..ike Ford was known to hundreds by sight 
 and to practically every delegate by reputation. 
 As the leader of the party of action he was enthu 
 siastically revered and followed. 
 
 "I thought so," replied little Fax pacifically. 
 
 "Well, the fact is," said Ford oratorically, "that 
 the date was known to certain people here in 
 Washington as far back as January." 
 
 "Oho," exclaimed Howard, "that s it, is it?" 
 There could be no questioning the accuracy of 
 Luke Ford s assertions, he felt. 
 
 "And, anyway," continued the tall oracle, "it 
 wasn t necessary to mobilize the entire army east 
 of the Rockies to celebrate a battle." 
 
 "Perhaps they expect one," spoke up a man in 
 the crowd, and his neighbors growled approval. 
 
 "They say Gen. MacMalTon opposed the mobili 
 zation," ventured Fax, bound to speak well of 
 somebody. 
 
 "Sensible man," replied Ford, "but we all know 
 he s no more commander-in-chief than I am 
 wears more gold lace, that s all. The war depart 
 ment runs things." 
 
 "And a tallow-chandler runs the war depart- 
 
 353
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 nient," observed Howard, whereat there was a 
 general laugh of desirion. The facts were patent. 
 The Hon. Peleg Chamberlain had derived all of 
 his military experience in the campaigns of his 
 soap factory, where he had amassed so much 
 money that his claims for a cabinet position could 
 not be overlooked. 
 
 "Well, the soldiers are there, and we are here," 
 said Ford significantly. 
 
 "Yes, we are here," piped a youthful man of 
 that class who delight in saying irrelevant things 
 for the mere sake of speaking. "We are here, but 
 for how long?" 
 
 "Until our work is done, young man," answered 
 Ford sternly, and the questioner subsided meekly 
 enough. 
 
 "The queerest thing about it is," said Howard, 
 "that the plans, I m told, include military man 
 oeuvres in the line of what would be done should 
 the capital be threatened with invasion." 
 
 "As if Washington could be invaded!" ex 
 claimed Fax scornfully. 
 
 "Why not?" asked Ford. "It s been done be 
 fore. Who knows ?" The old habit asserted its 
 strength once more, and he bit a huge piece from 
 his plug of tobacco and rolled it into one cheek 
 with great appreciation. 
 
 "At any rate," exclaimed Howard with rising 
 anger, as the note of a bugle came over the water, 
 to be followed by some manoeuvre which could 
 not be made out clearly, "at any rate it s a devilish 
 shame that this could not have been avoided." 
 
 "Cautious, my friend," observed Ford, quietly, 
 "their guns are pointed this way." There was no 
 
 354
 
 MANCEUVRES IN FORCE 
 
 mirth in his remark, but the crowd thought other 
 wise, and the laugh went round. 
 
 The delegates, who, by this time were pouring 
 into the Coliseum in ever-increasing numbers, 
 eager for the new excitement of the day, whatever 
 that might turn out to be, were men of prominence 
 in their respective homes, and for the most part 
 ready to do their duty in this hour of stress; yet 
 to most of them the trip to the capital took on the 
 form of a holiday s diversion, a relief from toil, a 
 journey into the world so few of them had seen 
 before. Active, stalwart, and easily impression 
 able, they were ready to be swayed this way or 
 that by some man born to command. Whether 
 their Moses was to be for peace or war they 
 thought little; what they desired above all else 
 was that someone should arise who could lead 
 them because he had the might. "Under which 
 King, Bezonian?" was not in their reckoning; 
 they wanted a king, and his standard would they 
 follow. 
 
 Philip Craig felt this to a certain degree when, 
 on the following day, he sat upon the platform 
 and watched the long rows of chairs grow black 
 with the hosts of the men he had sworn to aid. No 
 band, he thought with a smile as he recalled other 
 great conventions, no decorations, no flags so 
 often travestied and insulted by dishonorable pro 
 ceedings only men, representing the "complain 
 ing millions" of other men. When the seats were 
 filled there would be over two thousand delegates 
 and alternates chosen on a basis of representation 
 analogous to that of the national Congress, and 
 Craig felt a tightening of the throat that he knew 
 to be pride pride that this great massing of the 
 > 355
 
 SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 best of the toilers was the offspring of his own 
 brain and heart. Here at last was a true congress 
 of the people, not representatives of labor organi 
 zations merely, for many were outside the unions, 
 but of all who worked for wage clerks, salesmen, 
 tillers of the soil and workers on the sea. It was 
 what he had hoped to make it, an organization of 
 "Weakerdom." 
 
 Philip was here to keep his promise to address 
 the delegates if all went well. He was now sitting 
 in the extreme rear of the platform and behind a 
 pillar, so that he was seen by few. He had again 
 insisted that there should be no movement to 
 create a demonstration for him until he was ready 
 to speak. Whether his words would be called 
 forth this day or the next, he did not know; he 
 had decided to be guided by events. 
 
 He had not fully given his heart to the present 
 congress, proud as he felt of its expression of a 
 people s power. He believed that President Bur- 
 lingatne could be relied upon at the right moment 
 and in the right way, to bring about the reforms 
 needed to lift the burden from the shoulders of the 
 masses. But he realized that the desire to display 
 moral strength by an assembling in numerical 
 force, was so insistent in the organization that the 
 meeting had become a spontaneous necessity. The 
 only hope of making it harmless lay in Congress, 
 which had been summoned in extra session and 
 had met on the fourth of the preceding March. 
 The House, with its leaven of new men elected 
 on the issue of the distressed condition of 
 the country, had done much, but the Senate still 
 defiantly continued to block all measures of relief. 
 
 And so Philip Craig found himself face to face 
 356
 
 MANOEUVRES IN FORCE 
 
 with \vliat might turn out to be a great crisis in the 
 people s history, or merely an adoption of re 
 sounding phrases that should be a mock for the 
 wealth-ridden upper branch of Congress, and a 
 fresh incentive for the wrath of the great common 
 people at home. Either alternative was enough to 
 sober any thinking man, and Craig, as he watched 
 the excited faces of the men as they crowded into 
 the auditorium, felt that now, of all times in his 
 career, he needed the gift of wisdom joined to the 
 gift of eloquence. 
 
 A salute of some sort was being fired over on 
 the heights, and as the sullen booming quivered 
 through the hall, men s faces grew grave with 
 forebodings, or flushed with anger. No one could 
 have shaken their belief that this army had been 
 called to the capital for the sole purpose of intimi 
 dation, and with the belief, called into fresh ac 
 tivity by the sound of the cannon, came a spirit of 
 defiance that would make the task of conciliation 
 doubly hard. 
 
 357
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 PHILIP CRAIG S PROMISE. 
 
 THE session of the People s Congress was now 
 in full swing, and a tense excitement marked 
 the carrying out of each step in the proceed 
 ings. The first day s sitting had been uneventful, 
 being devoted merely to the routine of organiza 
 tion. But to-day the situation was far different. 
 There was a feeling in the very air that great 
 things were afoot, and that before the sun should 
 go down on the congress some great policy would 
 be outlined. 
 
 The chairman, a tall ponderous man with a reso 
 nant voice, but an air of timidity that bespoke his 
 nervousness, had been calling for reports from the 
 senators of each state (such was the title of the 
 chairman of each delegation) as to the conditions 
 of the section he represented, and the special needs 
 of his constituency. Several had spoken, present 
 ing pictures of wretchedness that differed only in 
 detail. 
 
 "The senator from New York," called out the 
 chairman sonorously. Then arose the compact, 
 commanding figure of a man whom Craig recog 
 nized as Henry Brandt, the German who had ac 
 knowledged his authority and wisdom of judg 
 ment at the Labor Day dinner long ago. For a 
 moment he stood motionless, a beam of sunlight 
 touching his fair, curling hair, the very picture of 
 
 358
 
 PHILIP CRAIG S PROMISE 
 
 a stalwart philosopher of old Greece. A great 
 stillness came over the gathering, for beauty of 
 form and face has its victories no less than beauty 
 of speech. 
 
 "Men," he began quietly, "you have heard the 
 reports from Massachusetts, from Connecticut, 
 from other states. New York has no report that 
 I can make. You know the conditions in your 
 own homes. New York has no right to claim 
 heavier burdens than yours. As spokesman of 
 the people of a great state, I should not do my 
 duty were I to tell you what they need. The ap 
 peal that T should make is for the needs of all 
 whom this congress represents. I " 
 
 Down fell the gavel of the chairman with a 
 sharp clatter, and Brandt ceased in surprise. 
 
 "The delegate from New York is out of order," 
 said the presiding officer. "The matter is " 
 
 "I crave the convention s pardon," exclaimed 
 Brandt resolutely, as a brief ripple of applause 
 went round. "I have a message from New York 
 to this congress, but it is not a recital of her woes. 
 It cannot be spoken in a few words and in the time 
 allotted. Does this convention wish to hear the 
 message?" he shouted, with an intensity of ear 
 nestness that sent a thrill of anticipation into every 
 heart. "Yes, or no?" 
 
 Amid cries of "Yes, yes," "Let s hear him," 
 "Hurrah for Brandt," a dozen delegates sprang 
 to their feet. The tall form of Luke Ford, with 
 its distinguishing dress, caught the chairman s eye 
 by sheer physical necessity. 
 
 "Mr. Ford, of New York." 
 
 "Mr. Chairman," the high-pitched voice 
 pierced the chattering tumult like a clarion call 
 
 359
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "I move that Senator Brandt be allowed to deliver 
 his message in his own way." 
 
 "That s the stuff!" yelled a gaunt Texan, with 
 a falsetto that set the crowd roaring with laughter. 
 The chairman fumbled nervously with his gavel. 
 He did not know whether merriment \va? or was 
 not parliamentary, and while trying to decide lost 
 sight of the point at issue. 
 
 "Question, question," was shouted by a hun 
 dred voices; the presiding officer was recalled to 
 his nearest duty. 
 
 "Is it the will of this convention that 
 
 "Aye," was the one thunderous shout. "Plat 
 form, platform!" 
 
 Then Brandt s fine figure walked down the 
 aisle and up to the broad dias. He turned and 
 faced the heaving waves of humanity with a calm 
 that brought order in an instant. He began as 
 quietly as he had begun before : 
 
 "They tell us now as they told us last fall, as 
 they told us the spring before, that we must have 
 patience that we must wait. Wait? For what? 
 To see the poor grow poorer, the rich richer ? To 
 see the crops we need sold to feed hired soldiers 
 in a foreign war? To see women die of want, with 
 babes they have no strength to suckle clamoring 
 weakly at their breasts? Shall we wait till the op 
 pression of wealth has made us serfs, to be fed 
 when the master pleases, and only then? 
 
 "I tell you, men, that the message of the people 
 of New York is that we must not wait. It has 
 been hinted that this congress should draw up a 
 petition to the national Congress and send it to 
 the capitol by a committee. If this committee 
 were even admitted to the Senate it would only be 
 
 360
 
 PHILIP CRAIG S PROMISE 
 
 laughed at. The House we have won to us, for it 
 is close to the people, and, thank God, the people 
 have a vote when they choose to use it. But 
 they did not begin soon enough, and a Senate of 
 moneyed arrogants stands between us and the re 
 forms that would save human lives and suffering! 
 
 "Why do I bring this message from New York? 
 \Yhy should New York send it rather than an 
 other? Because a senator from New York, a man 
 high in the councils at the capital, has said in pub 
 lic within five days that Congress will not inter 
 fere with the transaction of private business, that 
 if people are poor and suffer it is to be regretted, 
 but it cannot be helped. This man calls this con 
 gress which I now address, Cry babies. Let us 
 show him that we can cry to some purpose. 
 
 Hisses followed by cheers made the speaker 
 pause for a moment. 
 
 "Let us send a message to Congress," he con 
 tinued. "Let it be short in the reading, so that 
 they need not be detained. Let the message read : 
 
 " The delegates of thirty million men, the 
 wage earners of America, demand that Congress 
 place an embargo upon the further shipment from 
 American ports of the foodstuffs needed by the 
 American people. If this demand is not heeded, 
 this convention, by vote passed this day, and by 
 the authority vested in it by the people, will order 
 a general suspension of labor throughout the 
 country. 
 
 "Send this message, mean it, and strike if the 
 worst comes, and you will win." 
 
 Brandt sat down amid a perfect pandemonium 
 of cheers, handclappings and the clamorous 
 shouts of delegates from every part of the hall 
 
 361
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 frantically striving for recognition, all anxious for 
 the honor of making a motion to adopt the Ger 
 man s resolution. The ladies in the gallery 
 shrieked and waved their handkerchiefs with femi 
 nine enthusiasm. It was the outburst of a human 
 tempest and the chairman was powerless before 
 the blast. 
 
 He turned helplessly to the men seated behind 
 him, as if seeking aid. Then he saw Philip Craig 
 rise from his place behind the pillar, and walk for 
 ward slowly. A great inspiration came to the 
 president. He raised one hand as if beseeching 
 silence, while with the other he pointed to the 
 slim, erect figure that the people knew so well. 
 
 For an instant the tumult was hushed, and then 
 there burst forth a full-throat shout from the im 
 passioned delegates. 
 
 "Craig, Craig, Craig!" they roared, till the raft 
 ers quivered with the staccato cry. Tt penetrated 
 to the crowd outside which had been unable to 
 get into the Coliseum, and was flung into the 
 balmy air with a fervor that amazed the more se 
 date citizens who chanced to be passing. 
 
 The delegates respected and loved their former 
 leader and present representative in the cabinet. 
 That he had thus far been able to accomplish 
 nothing for them they knew was due to the fact 
 that he was prevented by circumstances. They 
 long ago realized that he had been duped as well 
 as they by the empty honor of the secretaryship 
 of industry. Now that he was standing before 
 them, was to speak with his well-remembered elo 
 quence, they awaited his utterance with feverish 
 expectancy. 
 
 "Delegates from Weakerdom, I welcome you 
 362
 
 PHILIP CRAIG S PROMISE 
 
 to Washington," he began, in calm, incisive tones 
 when the tumult ceased. "It is fitting that you 
 have official welcome in this city consecrated to 
 liberty by years of political association. Would 
 that the welcome had come from a higher source. 
 They have told me that my presence here would 
 be a stain upon my office. But I am here." 
 
 A chorus of cheers rose to the roof. 
 
 "Shall I tell you why I am here? I, too, have 
 a message for this assembly. I am here because I 
 feel because I know that you as men and as dele 
 gates from the men who have thus honored you, 
 are first, last, and all the time, honest God-fearing 
 American citizens, who wish only that right may 
 prevail. Your wrongs are many. They should be, 
 they must be righted. I believe they will be and 
 that you have not long to wait. 
 
 "You have been urged to show your strength 
 in threats. Sometimes threats show only weak 
 ness. You think, some of you, with Mr. Brandt, 
 that a general strike, the complete paralysis of in 
 dustry, would wrest the boon you seek from the 
 men who now say you nay. Perhaps it would, 
 but when and at w r hat cost? But you have the un 
 doubted right to try. The only question is, is it 
 the wisest thing to do, is it even necessary? I 
 think not. Listen closely, for what I say I believe. 
 What I shall say, I mean, without reservation. I 
 believe and T am wronging no one to say that 
 the President of these United States is responsible 
 for my belief that the measures for the relief 
 which is your right will be begun within three 
 days. If they are not, I pledge you my word of 
 honor that I will resign my portfolio, and, becom 
 ing one among many, abide by your decision, 
 " 363
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Avhatever it may be. Will you wait three days?" 
 Over the vast assemblage came the swift re 
 versal of opinion caused by the earnestness, the 
 deep conviction of one man. The transition had 
 been effected with but few words, yet they were 
 the right ones, and as Craig resumed his seat a tre 
 mendous burst of approval drowned the fugitive 
 signs of dissent, and showed that the victory had 
 been won. The Brandt resolution was heard from 
 no more that day. 
 
 "How glorious it is," mused Philip in his place 
 of retirement, "to turn and twist men s minds! 
 This is the only real power." 
 
 Craig left the Coliseum at dusk, confident that 
 he had saved the People s Congress from an act of 
 bravado that would have rendered impossible the 
 reform action which President Burlingame had 
 promised, and which seemed likely to bring the 
 obdurate Senate to terms. 
 
 The three days of grace granted him by the 
 convention seemed to stretch away into eternity, 
 so full were they of vital possibilities. 
 
 After a brief conference with some of the state 
 leaders, he went to his hotel wearied, but happy. 
 He would read a little before going to bed, he 
 thought, and he stopped at the news-stand to pur 
 chase a few magazines. 
 
 Having made himself comfortable in his room 
 in regulation masculine fashion, he took up his 
 periodicals. The title of one, "The People s," at 
 tracting his attention, he turned the leaves idly to 
 find something that would seem to be of especial 
 interest, when a very black page-heading met his 
 
 364
 
 PHILIP CRAIG S PROMISE 
 
 eye and held it. "A Millionaire Nurse," it read, 
 and then in sub-title more modest in size, "The 
 Daughter of a United States Senator an Angel of 
 Mercy at the Bentley-on-Hudson Home for Crip 
 pled Children." 
 
 He read Flemming s vivid, adjective-laden arti 
 cle with a greedy desire to lose no single word. 
 When he had finished, he sat for a long time gaz 
 ing absently at the picture of Helen Norton that 
 filled one of the pages. Then he went to his 
 dream-troubled sleep. 
 
 365
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 MEMORY PLAYS AN OLD TUNE. 
 
 IN John Norton s study sat the master of the 
 house at his great table, his right elbow 
 resting upon its broad surface and his head 
 pressed to the palm of his upturned hand. Even 
 in the mellow glow of the lamp-light his face 
 looked wan and drawn, and his eyes were half 
 closed in a listless fashion. On the other side of 
 the desk stood his wife, regarding him with tender 
 solicitude. As he raised his glance to her, she 
 feigned a smile to hide a sigh. 
 
 "Really, Harriet, you must not interfere," he 
 said querulously. "My affairs are well, my af 
 fairs are the nation s. As for my health that is a 
 matter about \vhich you need not give yourself 
 concern. In a week or two when the present ex 
 citement blows over we ll go away for a long 
 cruise, and and then I ll be a boy again. 
 
 "Go away? Ah, John, if you only would!" 
 
 "I will, I tell you, I will. Now please, please 
 leave me; I have much to do. And, Harriet, will 
 you please tell one of the servants that when Mr. 
 Haven calls he is to be shown here at once. I am 
 home to nobody else." 
 
 "Yes, John." 
 
 The grave-faced woman did not move, but 
 stood irresolute, as if something were yet to be 
 done. Her gentle glance spoke of sympathy, love, 
 
 366
 
 MEMORY PLAYS AN OLD TUNE 
 
 anxiety and pity, all the attributes of the maternal 
 spirit that colors the affection of a true wife. She 
 saw her husband haggard, nervous, distrait 
 more so to-night than ever and she longed to 
 play the part of comforter, though she hardly 
 knew how to begin. 
 
 For several years she had watched the steady 
 multiplication of signs that sounded a loud alarum 
 in her heart. To the world John Norton might 
 be the same invincible character as ever, but to 
 her, the guardian of his home secrets, the mask 
 was thrown off, and the petulant, weak, pitiful 
 real man stood revealed in all his increasing de 
 generation. 
 
 All this came crowding into her mind as she 
 stood silently in her place. Of a sudden the face 
 that had been bent toward a document was raised 
 toward her own, and the deep lines of something 
 more serious than care brought the tears to her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Why don t you go?" said her husband. "I 
 must be a One." 
 
 There was no command, not even vexation in 
 his voice. It was rather the petty impatience of a 
 spoiled child, 
 
 "Very well, John," she replied gently, and left 
 the room. 
 
 To but one person in all the world had this wo 
 man told aught of the mental turmoil and physi 
 cal deterioration of John Norton during the past 
 winter and spring in Washington ; to that one per 
 son she had described the sleepless nights when, 
 without her husband s knowledge, she had lain 
 awake listening to the terrible monotony of his 
 pacing footsteps up and down their chamber; to 
 
 367
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 him she had spoken of the disconnected, half- 
 mumbled soliloquies from which she had tried in 
 vain to gather sequence. That man was a physi 
 cian, a famous specialist on mental diseases, and 
 when he attempted to reassure her with graceful 
 phrases, she knew he lied, diplomatically and out 
 of kindness of heart, but nevertheless lied. 
 
 The doctor felt that Norton would live out 
 his life as it pleased him, and that advice of a really 
 helpful nature would be futile. So he prescribed 
 a stimulating drug to be used for a short time 
 only. 
 
 But Norton, soothed and refreshed by the po 
 tions, clung to them with the desperation of hope 
 until they had become his master instead of his 
 servant. His wife was soon shocked to find that 
 the drug, taken to excess, had begun to show a re 
 action that threatened the worst. 
 
 Only a few nights before, in the dim light of 
 their chamber, she had seen her husband take 
 three doses in rapid succession, and not until the 
 light of dawn shimmered upon the window panes 
 had she parted with the fear that she might be 
 compelled to summon aid. 
 
 Only one hope now remained to her, and to it 
 she clung with the energy of love. In one of his 
 recent nocturnal vagaries, perhaps in a dream, 
 her husband had muttered something that she 
 understood and which filled her with a great joy. 
 The plan it suggested she put into effect at once, 
 and she was even now anxiously expecting a re 
 ply to a letter she had written. 
 
 As she came into the hall to summon a servant 
 she saw the younger Bayles coming up the stairs. 
 
 368
 
 MEMORY PLAYS AN OLD TUNE 
 
 He carried something in his hand which he ex 
 tended towards his mistress. 
 
 "Telegram fer you, Mum," he said with his 
 queer, jerky little bow. 
 
 "When did it come?" 
 
 "Jest a minute ago. Me and Doc was at the 
 gate a-smokin " 
 
 "Very well; thank you," interrupted the lady. 
 "As yon go please tell the door man that if Mr. 
 Haven calls, he is to show him at once to Mr. Nor 
 ton s study, and that Mr. Norton is not at home 
 to anyone else." 
 
 "Yes m," returned "Muggsy" with his old-time 
 parsimony of words. To himself he was more 
 communicative, however, and as he went down 
 stairs he thus reflected: "Mr. Haven! Humph! 
 He s a rank outsider an his gait s bad. F I was 
 John Peter he d never be hitched inter my sulky." 
 
 Mrs. Norton read her telegram with feverish 
 haste. Thank God, she will come," she ex 
 claimed fervently, and then, woman-like, wept at 
 the joy-giving message. After a little time she 
 rang for a servant and ordered the carriage to be 
 ready in an hour. 
 
 Andrew Haven came and was admitted in due 
 form. He found his chief pacing the library floor, 
 and the look upon his face increased the alarm he 
 had felt when he had been summoned from New 
 York ten days before. He tried to assure himself 
 by the thought that the tremendous strain and the 
 natural anxiety were having but a temporary effect 
 upon the senator, and that "John Peter" was but 
 mortal after all. But he was not quite prepared 
 for the vehemence with which he was greeted. 
 
 "Well, man, you re here at last, are you?" cried 
 369
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Norton petulantly. I thought you d never come. 
 Sit down and tell me all that s happened." 
 
 "Why why," ventured Haven, glancing at the 
 table, "you have the papers." 
 
 "Papers! What do they know?" said Norton, 
 seeming angry at the mere suggestion. "I want 
 information at first hand. You were at the Coli 
 seum, weren t you?" 
 
 As a matter of fact Haven had not been inside 
 the big building, but he was too much of a coward, 
 under the present circumstances, to admit that he 
 had failed to obey instructions. 
 
 "Well that is yes," he stammered. 
 
 "Well, well !" 
 
 Haven concocted a plausible story, with a bit of 
 invented color, made up from the newspaper ac 
 counts and street gossip how the People s Con 
 gress had been stampeded by the eloquent 
 Brandt, and then turned right-about-face by the 
 earnestness of Craig. 
 
 The senator frowned deeply at the mention of 
 the name. 
 
 "Craig, Craig always Craig!" he ejaculated. 
 
 "But," urged Haven, with an impulse of rare 
 fair-mindedness, "if it hadn t been for him, they 
 certainly would have voted a general strike, unless 
 the Senate " 
 
 "Gave em pensions, I suppose. Bah ! Well, 
 how did this Craig demigod gogue, I mean- 
 stop them?" 
 
 "With assurances that Congress would grant 
 them relief within three days, or if not " 
 
 "If not well, go on, man. Don t be so infer 
 nally slow." 
 
 370
 
 MEMORY PLAYS AN OLD TUNE 
 
 "He would resign his portfolio ," said Haven, 
 badly scared at Norton s ferocity. 
 
 "And strike and starve and rot with them, I 
 suppose. Have you seen the men I told you to?" 
 
 "All but Cartwright." 
 
 "He s safe. I had a letter to-day. And the 
 others?" 
 
 "They agreed to take no step without your con 
 sent "" 
 
 "Good." 
 
 "All except Senator Burpee." 
 
 "Ah, I was afraid of him Haven, hand me that 
 glass of water on the secretary, there. Thanks." 
 
 He took the tumbler with trembling hands, and 
 poured into it the colorless contents of a little 
 phial he had drawn from his waistcoat pocket. As 
 by magic, the draught brought color to his face 
 and a bright light to his eyes. 
 
 "But he was persuaded," continued Haven. 
 "The argument that brought him Lord and 
 Pratt made it at my request was that now above 
 all times it is imperative to the salvation of capital 
 that labor shall not be given knowledge of its 
 power ; that compromise spells revolution ; that an 
 inch of yielding on our part means an ell of grasp 
 ing on theirs." 
 
 "Very good, Andrew," said his chief, with a 
 touch of his old sardonic manner of speech to his 
 sycophant, "you put it aptly. What do you think ; 
 will they strike?" 
 
 "Yes, if nothing is done." 
 
 "Something will be done," exclaimed Norton 
 rising to his feet with a feebly triumphant air. 
 "Something zvill be done, but it will not be what 
 
 371
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 they expect. If that strike is voted, blood will flow 
 before this mock congress adjourns." 
 
 "Oh, I hope not indeed, I trust not," quavered 
 Haven with genuine agitation. In case of a seri 
 ous storm he felt that the lightning might be ex 
 pected to strike uncomfortably close to himself. 
 
 "It will, I tell you, Haven," almost shrieked 
 Norton. "I know what I am talking about. 
 I I" 
 
 All at once the tall figure sank into a chair, col 
 lapsing pitiably after the false excitement of the 
 moment before. The drug had already become 
 but a transitory stimulus, and the reaction came 
 sooner and sooner with each day s use. Norton s 
 head hung forward over his chest, and his eyes 
 stared vacantly at the figures in the carpet. 
 
 "Mr. Norton, Mr. Norton!" exclaimed Haven. 
 
 The voice of alarm raised the financier some 
 what, and he roused from his stupor. 
 
 "Here are some letters your page gave me when 
 I went to the Senate-chamber in the hope of find 
 ing you." 
 
 Norton took the packet mechanically, and held 
 it in both hands as if it were some great weight. 
 He thanked Haven and bade him good-night, a 
 sufficient hint that the interview was ended. The 
 little man backed slowly out, his glance fixed on 
 his chiefs face. Once he seemed on the point of 
 checking his retreat, but shrugged his shoulders 
 and disappeared. 
 
 John Norton stared vacantly at the pile of let 
 ters, still clutched in his two hands. Then, in the 
 manner that color appeals to childhood or the un 
 skilled mind, a large, garish yellow envelope fixed 
 
 37 2
 
 MEMORY PLAYS AN OLD TUNE 
 
 his attention. He let the others fall in a mass on 
 the table, keeping only this one in his grasp. In a 
 large, sprawling hand it was addressed: 
 
 JOHN PETER NORTON, 
 
 U. S. SENATE. 
 
 Slowly, with a vague apprehension that every 
 strange superscription now aroused in him, he 
 opened the envelope and unfolded its contents. In 
 blood-red, clumsily printed letters he saw this : 
 
 "You and yours can give the people 
 life. Will you do it, or shall it be death 
 for death? 
 
 The actual threat had less power to move him 
 than had its foreboding. He laughed softly and 
 tore the paper into a hundred bits that fluttered 
 down about his feet. 
 
 "Fools, fools," he said, as he sank back into his 
 chair. An unusual sense of drowsiness was creep 
 ing over him, and he closed his eyes, glad that he 
 might steal a few minutes sleep from the night 
 that was coming on. 
 
 There was no answer to repeated knocking 
 on the library door. In the hall stood Mrs. Nor 
 ton and beside her a beautiful, fair woman with a 
 proud poise of the head and a face whose gentle 
 loveliness \vas becoming more and more a coun 
 terpart of her mother s. Just beyond was a man 
 
 373
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 so low in stature that he seemed dwarfed by the 
 Iwo women. But the eyes that shone from his 
 pudgy face were like no others. 
 
 "He is probably asleep, Helen," said the. elder 
 woman softly. "Let us go in quietly." 
 
 Indeed, it seemed like sleep to the three who 
 entered the room. Mrs. Norton touched her hus 
 band gently on the shoulder, but he did not wake. 
 A quick glance at his breast reassured her, for he 
 was breathing quietly. She kissed him on the fore 
 head. 
 
 "John, dear, wake. Here is Helen." 
 
 The figure quivered, the head was raised feebly, 
 and a smile flitted over the thin lips. 
 
 "I I see there." He raised his left hand 
 with a slowness like that of great age. the fingers 
 gripped tightly over the thumb. Then the arm 
 dropped nervelessly upon the chair, the fingers re 
 laxed, and a broad, white welt shone in the lamp 
 light. 
 
 "Helen, you say? Why, yes, my little Helen, 
 my pretty, wilful girl no more of it, Bayles, do 
 you hear? my horses shan t be branded it burns 
 her tender little heart blue ribbons, ha, ha 
 Merciful God, how did she escape?" With a deep 
 sigh the once powerful man fell back unconscious. 
 
 Out of the tender memories of her childhood 
 came a flood of tears for Helen Norton, tears of 
 love, of contrition, of deep solicitude. The Rev. 
 Mr. Bentley stole softly from the room, the light 
 of a great compassion glorifying his face. 
 
 The doctor whom he summoned with the utmost 
 haste told them that there had been a paralytic 
 stroke. There was no cause for alarm, he said ; a 
 day or two would find the patient quite himself 
 
 374
 
 MEMORY PLAYS AN OLD TUNE 
 
 again, except that he might never regain the full 
 use of his left hand. Being wise in his generation, 
 he advised silence so far as the outside world was 
 concerned. He knew that it would never do to 
 upset the stock-market at this juncture by the 
 news of a great financier s illness. 
 
 375
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 IN CABINET MEETING. 
 
 CLEAR sunlight and the crisp air that often 
 adds its tonic to the Washington spring 
 time marked the morning of the i8th of 
 April. Everything, the weather bureau included, 
 promised fine conditions for the celebration of the 
 following day. 
 
 The city was thronged with thousands of strang 
 ers drawn by the attractions of the unveiling of 
 the monument; the presence of the army and the 
 assembling of the People s Congress; hotels and 
 lodging houses struggled under the burden of pro 
 viding room for the multitude and gave it up in 
 despair. The Coliseum was turned into a dormi 
 tory, and, as that was woefully insufficient, hun 
 dreds of men were camping in tents on the out 
 skirts of the city. The bands, the troops, the het 
 erogeneous crowds, swelled by a small army of 
 malcontents and disturbers from other cities, made 
 of Washington the most conglomerate theatre of 
 human activity since the far-off days of the great 
 Civil War. 
 
 Early on this morning a message came to Philip 
 Craig notifying him that a special cabinet meet 
 ing was to be held at noon. Most of his time up 
 to that hour he occupied with official corre 
 spondence. He was preparing to leave his hotel 
 
 376
 
 IN CABINET MEETING 
 
 for the White House when a hall-boy came rush 
 ing up to his room with a card. 
 
 "Berry important, Massa Craig," exclaimed the 
 breathless darky who brought it. "De gemman s 
 jest crazy to see you, sah." 
 
 On the bit of paste-board was engraved the name 
 of John Wesley Landor, and in ink were written 
 the words, "Urgent. Few minutes only." 
 
 "Show him up, Sam," said Philip. He knew 
 that Landor was now manager of the Washington 
 bureau of the Associated Press, and he felt that it 
 was no idle errand that had dictated his call. 
 
 Landor arrived, fatter, rosier and apparently as 
 impassive as ever. But Craig knew from the 
 strained look about his mouth that something was 
 exciting him. 
 
 "Good morning, Landor," he said cordially. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Secretary. I know you are 
 in haste, and I " 
 
 " Mr. Secretary ! why not Craig ?" 
 
 "Well then, Craig. It is because you are Craig 
 that I am here. Are we absolutely alone?" He 
 looked about half-distrustfully. 
 
 "Why, yes," returned Philip smiling, "I think I 
 can assure you that these walls have no ears. 
 There is my father s room, and he is out. There 
 is my bed-room, empty." 
 
 But Landor was not satisfied. He opened the 
 hall door and looked up and down the corridor. 
 
 "Excuse me, Philip, but it \vould ruin me if it 
 were known that I warned you of this, and I can t 
 afford to take any chances." 
 
 "Warned me? Of what?" 
 
 The newspaper man came close to the secretary, 
 and he spoke low. 
 
 377
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "A cabinet meeting is called for to-day." 
 
 "Why, I know that already." 
 
 "Yes, but you don t know that a cabinet meet 
 ing was held last night without you." 
 
 Craig s face grew grave at once. 
 
 "No, I didn t know that." 
 
 "Fact, though. Some of the party bosses knew 
 this meeting was to be called. There s a leak at 
 the White House somewhere." 
 
 "I have thought so." 
 
 "It is also known that the President is to take a 
 decisive step, of what nature I can only guess. You 
 probably 
 
 "Yes, I have reason to believe I know its pur 
 port," interrupted Philip, with confidence, "but 
 how?" 
 
 "How does it concern you? Simply that fore 
 warned is forearmed. I have it straight that the 
 cabinet will oppose the plan of compromise. 
 Urged on by Pratt and Stuyvesant Lord and sev 
 eral other senators, they have agreed to resist to 
 the last extremity to keep the President firm to the 
 party policy." 
 
 Philip s eyes sparkled, and his face shone with 
 the hope founded on complete trust. 
 
 "Let me tell you, Landor," he exclaimed, "that 
 threats will be of little avail, if as I suspect, Mr. 
 Burlingame has made up his mind to take definite 
 action." 
 
 "What they will do I don t know," pursued the 
 other, "but the most extreme of the senators are 
 very jubilant this morning." 
 
 "Norton, I presume : 
 
 "No, he was not present." 
 
 378
 
 IN CABINET MEETING 
 
 "Well, there s nothing significant about that. 
 He prefers agents." 
 
 "At any rate," said Landor, putting on his hat, 
 "you are prepared, and that s something." 
 
 "And I thank you, John. I shall better know 
 what to do." 
 
 The men left the hotel by different exits, and 
 Philip was soon swinging along Pennsylvania Av 
 enue toward the Executive Mansion. A great ex 
 altation urged him on, and the fine spring air gave 
 him more of the joy of living than he had known 
 for some time. He felt that to-day his promise to 
 the people was to be fulfilled, for he was sure that 
 President Burlingame was ready to make good his 
 word to him that should speedy relief not be given, 
 he would throw the enormous weight of his own 
 official position into the balance, and face the issue. 
 In all this he, Craig, would gain new laurels, 
 which no sane man could afford to despise, and 
 more than ever would he be known as the cham 
 pion of the oppressed. The power of wealth that 
 he was to oppose he scorned it. The only real 
 power was that over the minds and hearts of man 
 kind, and that seemed to be his birthright. 
 
 When he entered the cabinet chamber, with its 
 massive furnishings and dark, rich walls, some 
 thing of his spiritual elevation left him, and there 
 came the old determination to fight injustice, the 
 stubborn sense of having a duty to perform at all 
 costs. He found that the majority of the members 
 had already assembled. 
 
 Craig was received with the usual difference of 
 greeting. Some of the cabinet officers showed ill- 
 disguised condescension, and others as evident cor 
 diality, for in spite of the fact that most of them 
 
 379
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 regarded his office as a useless appendage to the 
 body politic and himself as an interloper, they 
 felt that he was a man, and honestly devoted to 
 the cause for which he labored. The rascal has 
 often the sincerest respect for his opposite. 
 
 As Craig took his seat and waited with the others 
 for the arrival of the President, he realized how 
 true were the slurs of the opposite party on the 
 calibre of the cabinet. It was a pitifully weak ag 
 gregation, save for the two men who dominated it. 
 They were David Baker Pratt, the secretary of state, 
 who had been a western lawyer of great acumen 
 and adroitness in the handling of others, and 
 Stuyvesant Lord, the railroad magnate, now 
 postmaster general. These two, the one by his 
 well-lubricated shrewdness and the other by his 
 hard-headed domineering force, ruled the rest com 
 pletely, and things had reached that point where 
 the majority were entirely willing to be so held, so 
 long as a fair division of the accrued spoils were 
 made. 
 
 Craig plainly noted an undercurrent of excite 
 ment around the long table. He saw Lord and 
 Pratt whisper together, then separate to whisper 
 with the lesser figures ; he saw nods and smiles and 
 meaning glances at himself, but he sat uncon 
 cerned. All such things had long since lost their 
 power to annoy him, and now he knew that his 
 ally was coming. 
 
 At the sound of the President s voice outside all 
 rose until he had entered and taken his seat. Craig 
 looked with admiration at his massive frame and 
 his fine head, with its frank blue eyes and thick 
 brown beard streaked with gray. He looked what 
 he was, a "safe" man. With no great intellectual- 
 
 380
 
 ity, and few oratorical graces, he inspired the con 
 fidence that when once roused he would follow 
 his convictions to the utmost. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, wasting no time after 
 bowing to his cabinet, "I have called you together 
 to-day because of a duty that I consider impera 
 tive. I had hoped that Congress or, more cor 
 rectly, the Senate would render action on the part 
 of the executive unnecessary, but I am assured 
 that the present deadlock between the Senate and 
 the House will continue. I feel that something 
 must be done to restore public confidence and to 
 encourage the people with the prospect of better 
 things. Before I go further, I should like an ex 
 pression from you as to what, in your opinion, the 
 necessities of the case demand." 
 
 He looked toward his secretary of state, who sat 
 at his right, and the eyes of all the others were bent 
 on Mr. Pratt, a tall, exceedingly thin man, with a 
 broad forehead, narrow eyes set far apart, a prom 
 inent nose, and a thin, straggling growth of beard, 
 nearly white. He bore an appearance of senility 
 that was entirely misleading. Now he pushed 
 back his chair a little, cleared his throat and in 
 quired in his thin, high-pitched voice : 
 
 "It appears, Mr. President, that you wish an 
 expression as to what shall be done to placate the 
 element that professes to see danger in present 
 business methods?" 
 
 The chief executive bowed gravely. He did not 
 like the secretary s presentation of the case, but 
 this was no time for splitting hairs. 
 
 "On this point," resumed Mr. Pratt, "I can say 
 only that whatever it may be wise to do in the 
 future, I can see nothing that can be done now.
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Yesterday s public threat by the labor convention, 
 whose presence in the capital at this time I regard 
 as an insult to the Congress of the United States, 
 makes impossible any sign of wavering on the part 
 of the government." 
 
 He looked across the table for the approving 
 nod of Lord, and then both glanced up and down 
 the row of cabinet officers. 
 
 "It s all right," he thought, as he swiftly noted 
 their faces. "They ll stand firm, all except that 
 Craig there, and he doesn t count." 
 
 "I feel," continued Pratt, "that to abandon in 
 the least degree the position of the majority of 
 Congress would impair public confidence instead of 
 strengthen it, and would be giving cartc-blanche to 
 anarchy. We must be firm, if the rule of agitators 
 is not to replace that of conservative interests. 
 That is the feeling I have in the matter; more 
 words would be useless." 
 
 "I thank you, Mr. Secretary," said the President 
 briefly. "And you, Mr. Post-master General?" he 
 queried, turning to the round-headed, red-faced 
 man on his left. 
 
 "I can t say s T can add anything to what the 
 secretary of state has been remarkin ," said Lord, 
 brusquely. "It sums up the situation jest about 
 right, and I guess we all agree on the points." As 
 he read acquiescence in each face save that of 
 Craig, to whom he gave no attention, he smiled 
 blandly as if to say: "You see about how it is, 
 Mr. President." 
 
 Secretary Pratt was somewhat taken aback at 
 the frank revelation of the postmaster-general. It 
 had not been a part of his scheme that previous 
 agreement should stand quite so conspicuously 
 
 382
 
 7-V CABINET MEETING 
 
 before the President. He opened his mouth to 
 utter some smooth, quieting phrase, but the Pres 
 ident forestalled him. 
 
 "It appears, gentlemen," he said with an un 
 wonted touch of sarcasm and a deeper flush on his 
 cheeks, "that this is not a meeting for discussion, 
 but for the announcement of a previously deter 
 mined decision. Perhaps I am mistaken. Mr. 
 Chamberlain, have you any opinion to offer?" 
 
 The secretary of war, whose smooth, pink, in 
 fantile face gave the wags ample opportunity for 
 saying that he was a walking advertisement for 
 his own successful toilet soap, had long ago learned 
 that silence was his only salvation in Washington, 
 and he shook his head sagely. He had built a 
 great reputation for himself by merely looking 
 wise. The rest followed his example, and simply 
 expressed acquiescence in the words of the secre 
 tary of state. 
 
 "Mr. Craig, what have you to say?" 
 
 Philip started as if roused from a dream. He 
 had been wondering what would happen if the 
 President should, after all, show the white feather 
 before this almost perfect unanimity of his cabinet ; 
 when the awful stagnation of the country s indus 
 try would begin, and what his own share in the 
 movement would be. 
 
 "Mr. Craig," said the President again, "is there 
 anything you wish to say?" 
 
 Philip knew that the eloquence of a Webster 
 would scarce suffice for what he wished to say, 
 and knew, too, that it would avail nothing against 
 the concerted decision of the others. But he rose 
 slowly, feeling that he must be on his feet in such 
 a crisis. 
 
 383
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Mr. President," he began with intense solem 
 nity, "I feel almost too deeply on this subject to 
 risk words which must here be futile. That my as 
 sociates care little for my views is evident from the 
 fact that they did not see fit to include me in their 
 meeting- of last night; at which this policy was de 
 termined upon." 
 
 The smothered ejaculation that came to Lord s 
 lips told Craig that his aim was true. The Presi 
 dent s blue eyes blazed with sudden anger, and it 
 was evident that he, too, had known nothing of 
 the midnight conference. 
 
 "But I should not do my duty to the people of 
 this nation," Craig continued steadily, "if I kept 
 silence. My opinions as to the rights and wrongs 
 of this matter are too well-known to require re 
 cital. The present situation, however, is not theo 
 retical. Whatever the cause, the predicament of 
 the common people, the middle classes, the men 
 without assured income, is desperate. Rightly or 
 wrongly, they have spoken through accredited rep 
 resentatives, and have declared that if the wished- 
 for relief is not granted by Congress and when 
 Congress is said the Senate is meant they will 
 order a strike that will bring industry to an abso 
 lute standstill throughout the country. They can 
 do this, and I believe they will. This may be a 
 threat, but have there been no threats against 
 them? 
 
 "God knows that I, as much if not more than 
 any one of you here, would deplore such an out 
 come. But, Mr. President, if the people are not 
 listened to, they will make themselves heard. They 
 spoke at the ballot-box last November, but your 
 Senate is deaf. First it was appeal; then, in the 
 
 384
 
 IN CABINET MEETING 
 
 voting, it was warning; now it is demand. The 
 nation trembles for your answer." 
 
 His voice quivered with emotion as he concluded 
 and resumed his seat. He could see that he had 
 affected the weaker ones, but he knew that the in 
 fluence was but transitory. One look from Lord 
 would bring them back to their allegiance. 
 
 "Has anyone anything to say in reply to Mr. 
 Craig?" asked the President. The secretary of 
 state responded icily: 
 
 "The cry of the demagogue is too familiar. It 
 is its own answer." 
 
 Furious with anger, Craig would have leaped 
 to his feet, but that he saw the President s hand 
 raised and noted a new look of supreme determi 
 nation on his face. No, he would make no per 
 sonal squabble of the affair; the issue must fight 
 itself out on broader principles. The President 
 was speaking, and he listened eagerly for the words 
 that he felt were to bring the matter to a climax. 
 
 "Nothing has been said, gentlemen, to change 
 my views," exclaimed Mr. Burlingame, earnestly. 
 "The nation is in suffering and peril, and it is my 
 duty to relieve, if I can, the stress that is crippling 
 the people. I have here a message" and he lifted 
 a folded paper from the table "which I shall send 
 to Congress after to-morrow s holiday. It w r ill do 
 more than urge, it will demand the passage of a 
 bill prohibiting the further exportation of grain 
 and foodstuffs. The House, I am assured, will pass 
 this, as it has passed similar measures of relief of 
 the situation." 
 
 He paused for a moment and looked steadfastly 
 at the sneering Pratt and the bullying Lord, as if 
 to hammer the words deep into their conscious- 
 
 385
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 ness. Then he went on, with a gravity of which 
 no one would have previously believed him 
 capable : 
 
 "If the Senate continues in its role of obstruc 
 tion, and also refuses to agree with the House as 
 to the time of adjournment, I shall, under the 
 right given me by the constitution, adjourn Con 
 gress, and, as executive head of this nation, take 
 such measures as I can to restore confidence and 
 prosperity." 
 
 Craig s astonishment at this radical and uncom 
 promising step was no greater than that which he 
 felt as he saw that the members of the cabinet ex 
 hibited no emotion at the bold words. Then he 
 remembered his information of the morning; there 
 was a leak at the White House." 
 
 First of all the heads of departments to reply to 
 the President s gage of battle was the adroit sec 
 retary of state. With words of apparent courtesy 
 he deprecated the proposed move as very undesir 
 able. He appealed to the President to do nothing 
 that would put the administration in the role of 
 retreating under fire, especially when conditions 
 were so unsettled. Under his smooth speech were 
 the hooks of steel, and none knew this better than 
 Mr. Burlingame. 
 
 Pratt called upon the attorney-general for an 
 opinion as to the legal and constitutional right of 
 the President to do as he had threatened, and that 
 functionary obediently said that the thing was 
 without warrant or precedent. 
 
 "I am obliged to the attorney-general for his 
 opinion," replied the President, "but I have faith 
 in the people and in the right. I must proceed as 
 
 386
 
 IN CABINET MEETING 
 
 conscience and long and anxious study dictate. I 
 shall take the action I have outlined." 
 
 Pale with suppressed anger, the secretary of 
 state rose slowly to his feet. He had his trump 
 card to play, and neither he nor his associates 
 doubted its efficacy. 
 
 "Should you insist upon this course, Mr. Presi 
 dent," he said, "I would be forced in self-respect to 
 tender you the resignation of my portfolio." 
 
 Mr. Burlingame s eyes again flashed fire, but he 
 answered calmly. 
 
 "Bigger man than we thought," reflected Lord, 
 with a growing admiration for the strength that 
 was cousin to his own, "but he must be licked." 
 
 "I had feared this," replied the President. "I 
 presume, Mr. Attorney-General, that you could 
 not support my position by your continued pres 
 ence at the head of your department?" 
 
 "No, Mr. President, I could not." 
 
 "Then you, too, resign?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "And you, Mr. Postmaster-General? You are 
 determined to follow the example of the secretary 
 of state?" 
 
 "Quite correct," replied Lord, curtly. He never 
 liked the President so much as now, but principle 
 was principle. 
 
 One by one the others signified their intention 
 of quitting the cabinet should the obnoxious mes 
 sage be sent to Congress. 
 
 "And Secretary Craig?" said the President at 
 last. Philip rose with the respect he had always 
 shown the chief executive. 
 
 "My duty, as I understand it," he said, "is not 
 
 387
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 only to advise but to support the President. I 
 remain in the cabinet." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Mr. Burlingame quietly, "you 
 have offered your resignations from the cabinet 
 and from your departments. That there may be no 
 misunderstanding, will you kindly tender them in 
 writing for my consideration. Unless there is fur 
 ther business, I shall adjourn this meeting." 
 
 No one of the dazed gentlemen of the cabinet 
 offering a word, Mr. Burlingame rose and left the 
 room. Of the discomfited and disappointed mem 
 bers Secretarv Pratt was the first to recover his 
 
 ml 
 
 self-possession. He signaled Lord and the rest to 
 follow him, and in a corner the men held a whis 
 pered consultation apart from Craig. He no 
 longer felt the slightest resentment; he could 
 afford to smile at the situation and did smile, so 
 that the bullet-headed Lord caught the look of 
 amusement and barely stopped a round impreca 
 tion from escaping between his clenched teeth. 
 With a pleasant "Good afternoon, gentlemen," 
 Philip parted from his associates. 
 
 They decided that the course of wisdom, indeed 
 the only course, lay in sending their written resig 
 nations as requested by the President. Possibly 
 the very gravity of the act might so impress Mr. 
 Burlingame that he would abandon his position. 
 
 Meantime the most urgent messages were 
 rushed to the party leaders informing them of the 
 seriousness of the situation. They, in turn, called 
 upon the President to urge him not to cause the 
 disruption of the administration by an act that 
 seemed ill-considered. The chief executive re 
 ceived them graciously enough, but declined to 
 discuss the matter in any of its phases. 
 
 388
 
 IN CABINET MEETING 
 
 The newspapers of the following morning 
 startled the country and the world with the an 
 nouncement that the President had accepted indi 
 vidually the written resignations of the members of 
 his official family all save that of Secretary Craig, 
 who would stand by the administration. They also 
 printed a statement from the President that he 
 would send the names of his new cabinet to the 
 Senate on the day after the holiday. 
 
 That night, Philip Craig, the sole remaining offi 
 cer of President Burlingame s cabinet, spent three 
 hours with his chief in a secret conference that not 
 even the ambassador of the greatest nation in 
 Europe was allowed to interrupt. 
 
 389
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL. 
 
 PATRIOT S Day beautifully fulfilled the pre 
 dictions made for it by the experts, and fur 
 nished the perfection of sky and air for the 
 great celebration. Physically the city was a marvel 
 of color and brilliancy. From end to end the 
 avenues of the states were edged with flags, stream 
 ers and bunting, and at the approaches to the 
 most beautiful capitol in the world were arches of 
 superb design and richest decoration planned by 
 the great artists of the country. It seemed as if all 
 the latent patriotism of the land had suddenly 
 burst into sight with the colossal flare of flags, the 
 cacophony of myriad bands, the steady tramping 
 of troops, the wild rush of the multitude hither and 
 thither in search of a new sensation and the dull 
 apprehensiveness that somehow lay beneath the 
 surface of all this resounding excitement. 
 
 The People s Congress had, it is true, adjourned 
 over the holiday, but it had at the same moment 
 denounced the celebration, with its tremendous 
 military display, as "another case of fiddling while 
 Rome was burning." It was an outrage, the con 
 vention declared, that this money, wrung from the 
 sufferings of a people, should be frittered away 
 upon extravagant show, bombastic noise, and the 
 flaunting of gold lace. The day sacred to the 
 
 390
 
 THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL 
 
 heroism of the fathers was desecrated beyond 
 measure, it asserted. 
 
 Craig and the leaders of Congress noted with 
 much concern the horde of the unruly that had fol 
 lowed in the train of the delegates and the legiti 
 mate sight-seers, like vultures after a caravan. 
 Never in the history of Washington, the secret ser 
 vice men said, had a celebration brought to the 
 capital such an army of the "powers that prey;" 
 never had there been such a wholesale deportation 
 of known rascals. The thousands who were not 
 known stayed, and threatened to infect the excited 
 mass of better men with the base leaven of their 
 love of disorder. 
 
 The people were dominated by unrest, nor was 
 the morning s news of the political situation calcu 
 lated to calm them. The sensational resignation 
 of the entire cabinet, save one man, proved, 
 although the papers were singularly silent as to 
 the facts, that there must have been a bitter quarrel 
 between the President and his advisers, and that 
 the cause of the break must have been the question 
 of policy as to answering the demands of the nation 
 for relief. Black chaos seemed to loom before 
 many, nor could the solution be foreseen. The day 
 had not far advanced when an inkling of the true 
 state of affairs filtered down from high places to 
 the ears of the common people, but it failed to 
 reassure them. 
 
 Of one thing they felt certain, however: that 
 President Burlingame had shown himself their 
 friend. What he could do was problematical, but 
 for what he would do they honored him. 
 
 And so it happened that when the President, on 
 the great black horse whose every mood he knew
 
 OAT SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 so well, rode through the living lanes of excited 
 humanity, under festoons of gorgeous drapery, to 
 the stand where he was to review the troops, a 
 mighty roar of approval kept pace with his horse s 
 hoofs, smothering the booming of cannon and 
 drowning the bray of military bands. Head un 
 covered, he bowed to right and left with never- 
 ceasing regularity, wondering somewhat at his 
 sudden popularity, but glowing with the knowl 
 edge that adherence to duty had for once brought 
 its reward in the shape of public applause. 
 
 The feelings of the secretary of war, who at the 
 same moment was the recipient of public attention 
 on a side street off Pennsylvania Avenue, were 
 never made known, but those who saw him during 
 the episode were willing to swear that he at least 
 appeared uncomfortable. He was being driven to 
 the railroad station in an open carriage, and was 
 recognized by some of the crowd. Epithets not 
 savory were followed by a few vegetables not quite 
 fresh, and it took a squad of mounted police to 
 rescue the ex-cabinet officer from the wrath of the 
 mob. 
 
 Rumor magnified this sporadic outburst into a 
 great rising, and the city s uneasiness increased. 
 Of course, there was the army, but its actual em 
 ployment meant bloodshed. Good citizens prayed 
 that no spark should strike the tow of the people s 
 anger. 
 
 The procession, the review, and the unveiling 
 of the colossal statue of the Minute Man passed off 
 with no marring episodes. The President broke 
 the cords that let the great silken flags from the 
 heroic bronze; a poem was read by California s 
 illustrious son, Markham Miller; a profound and 
 
 392
 
 THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL 
 
 eloquent oration was delivered by the Hon. Phil 
 lips Lloyd, of Massachusetts; a hymn to the 
 forefathers was sung by a chorus made up of 
 singers from every state in the Union, and, amid 
 a mighty salvo of artillery, the crowds spread 
 themselves out once more over all Washington, 
 and prepared to forage for their midday meals. 
 For some the process was a glutted weariness, for 
 more an assured matter of fact, and for others a 
 desperate search. But somehow or other all were 
 fed, and in readiness for the afternoon s manoeuvres 
 of the troops. 
 
 Craig spent the morning in his new apartments, 
 to which he had removed for greater quiet, and 
 with his father was arranging his library in place, 
 when a deputation from the People s Congress 
 called and requested an interview. After an hour s 
 earnest conversation, the committee withdrew, and 
 a little later reported to their associates that the 
 secretary of industry was firm in the belief that 
 President Burlingame would inaugurate measures 
 of relief with the reassembling of Congress next 
 day. 
 
 Philip did not witness the afternoon s evolutions 
 of the soldiers, for he found that the strain of the 
 past few days had begun to tell on his nerves. He 
 knew that he needed a respite from the turmoil of 
 the city, and he was surfeited with bands and 
 shouts and cannonading. So he and his father, 
 who was glad enough to go anywhere away from 
 the uproar, took a car for Mount Vernon. 
 
 There in the noble home of George Washington, 
 the secretary fell under the spell of sublime peace 
 that comes to every true American who visits that 
 beautiful shrine. The broad green acres, the 
 
 393
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 superb trees, the classically simple mansion seemed 
 to carry him away from the world of strife and suf 
 fering and fill his heart with a happiness he had not 
 known for years. 
 
 In the plain chamber where the First President 
 had died, where even now were the furnishings 
 upon which his eyes had rested until the film of 
 dissolution had shut out all mortal light, father and 
 son stood in reverent silence for many minutes. It 
 was Angus who first spoke. 
 
 "Aye, Philip, there zvas a mon. An aristocrat, 
 if ye will, an rich, too. But the gowd never 
 tarnished his soul, an power never blinded him tae 
 the richts o the people. Oh, the deeference, the 
 deeference. I wad we had ane like him this day." 
 
 "Would to God we had!" said Philip solemnly. 
 The hallowed room faded from his view, and he 
 saw again the wealth-ridden, merciless Senate, the 
 mercenary cabinet that had just ceased to be, and 
 the princes of finance who were draining the 
 country of the bread of life to aid a foreign war. 
 The need of some great and masterful man was 
 pressing, but whence and how would he arise? 
 The President? He was honest and sincere, but 
 was he strong enough to win the fight? 
 
 Before the tomb of him whom the nation calls 
 "Father," Philip renewed his vow to battle for the 
 down-trodden, to defend "Weakerdom" always, no 
 matter what the cost, or whether ignominy or fame 
 
 became his portion. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Over in the city the din of mimic battle smote 
 the ear at every turn. A sham attack on the 
 capital was under way, and great guns roared and 
 bellowed at the outlying ends of all the main 
 
 394
 
 THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL 
 
 avenues. Behind them were barricades of cotton- 
 bales, bags of sand, and cumbersome upturned 
 drays. Then came the soldiers, grimy and perspir 
 ing from their work of hurried fortification, 
 hundreds of them on the house-tops firing rattling 
 volleys into space. 
 
 Near the capitol stood General Felix Mac- 
 Mahon, the commander-in-chief of the defending 
 army, and to him incessantly dashed mounted 
 orderlies and then dashed off again. The cry of 
 bugles pierced the deeper sound of the guns with 
 a shrill soprano. 
 
 Thronging the central streets were the thous 
 ands of sight-seers, frenzied with the wild delight 
 that comes with the sound of exploding gun 
 powder. Only some of the negroes who did not 
 understand groveled in terror, convinced that 
 Washington was being assailed by some foreign 
 foe who would give no quarter. Dusky preachers 
 shouted of the wrath of God for the sins of the 
 great. Thieves plied their profession under cover 
 of the din and excitement, and relieved the 
 populace of their purses with perfect impartiality. 
 
 With a long semi-circle outside the city, stretch 
 ing from the Potomac to East Branch, the thin 
 line of the attacking army was gradually closing in. 
 Under command of the Adjutant-General, the 
 forces were at last ordered to charge. 
 
 President Burlingame was riding up and down 
 along the defense He had not thoroughly ap 
 proved of the military mock-heroics, but since 
 they had been decreed by the war department, he 
 had not cared to oppose them actively. And now 
 that the clash of arms was in simulation he thought 
 it best to show himself as much as possible in 
 
 395
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 public. So his firm figure, knitted to his superb 
 horse, became a familiar sight during the after 
 noon. And ever he was greeted with wild cheers. 
 
 As the advance of the assaulting force became 
 plainly evident, an officer pulled his horse up 
 sharply by the side of the President. 
 
 "We must get behind the guns, Mr. President," 
 he exclaimed hurriedly. "Of course they re only 
 blank charges but horses are very apt to object. 
 If you will follow me I can show you an opening 
 into the lines." 
 
 Mr. Burlingame smiled and shook his head. 
 
 "Why take trouble to go so far around?" he 
 said, pointing to the barricaded end of a street, 
 "I ll take this way." 
 
 He spoke to his horse sharply, and the great 
 animal broke into a swinging gallop, heading 
 straight for the high barrier of cotton-bales. The 
 soldiers behind parted in swift surprise. 
 
 One touch of the spur and the splendid horse 
 vaulted into the air and over the obstruction 
 without grazing a heel. A shout of applause burst 
 from the men, and then they turned at the word of 
 command to receive the enemy. 
 
 With furious volleyings and cannonadings, 
 charges and counter-charges, retreats and ad 
 vances, the sham attack on Washington was at 
 last technically repulsed, and comparative quiet 
 reigned once more. 
 
 There now remained in the day s celebration 
 only the trial of a new electric field gun invented 
 by M. Deschapelles, the world-famous deviser of 
 new mechanisms. The gun was stationed on Ar 
 lington Heights, and thither the President rode 
 
 396
 
 THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL 
 
 with his aides and the army officers who were to 
 witness the test. 
 
 The affair was simplicity itself. A huge car 
 tridge of peculiar circular construction, with a 
 small orifice for the escape of the steel slug, and 
 filled with the most powerful explosive known, 
 was set into the breech and the gun closed. The 
 President, who stood on a slight elevation behind 
 the cannon with a group of army officers, held his 
 finger on a tiny button ready to give the pressure 
 that should detonate the charge. 
 
 A word from Gen. MacMahon, a downward 
 movement of the finger, a terrific roar, the sharp 
 hiss of a piece of metal hurtling through the air, 
 and in the place where the President had stood 
 was a horrible, significant void. Other figures 
 beside his had also disappeared. 
 
 After an instant s dazed helplessness, many 
 officers and a surgeon gathered about the group 
 of the fallen. Then, with blanched face and staring 
 eye-balls, the doctor looked up at the Lieutenant- 
 General, and shook his head, pointing with mute 
 eloquence to the shimmering dome of the capitol 
 across the river. 
 
 Gen. MacMahon s plan was made in an instant. 
 He commanded absolute silence on the part of all 
 the immediate witnesses of the dreadful catastro 
 phe, while to the onlookers, who had been kept at 
 a distance by lines of soldiers, it was given out that 
 one of the army officers had been killed. The bluff 
 old general believed that falsehood was justified by 
 the excited condition of the people. 
 
 But some of the more observant noticed that the 
 magnificent black horse that had brought the 
 
 397
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 President to Arlington was ridden back to Wash 
 ington by another man ! 
 
 Consternation and wild amazement ruled among 
 the party leaders and high officials to whom the 
 news was secretly carried with the utmost dispatch. 
 A conference was at once held at the White House 
 between Gen. MacMahon, the late President s 
 private secretary, Edward Trent, and a few subordi 
 nates of departments. It was decided to send for 
 the Chief Justice at once, and to move heaven and 
 earth to find Philip Craig, who, it was reported, 
 was not at his apartments. 
 
 With his customary acumen, ex-Secretary of 
 State Pratt smelt out the meeting, and within an 
 hour of the President s death appeared at the 
 White House to protest against the swearing in of 
 Philip Craig on the ground that the law of succes 
 sion did not specify the office of secretary of 
 industry in so many words. Gen. MacMahon was 
 furious with anger. 
 
 "The man is President of the United States, sir," 
 he shouted, "and neither you nor your coterie can 
 change that great fact. Here and now I recognize 
 him, and it only needs the presence of the Chief 
 Justice and himself to make that recognition 
 lawful." 
 
 "Calm yourself, General," sneered Pratt. "You 
 are over-zealous now that there is no secretary of 
 war to keep you in check. It was not always 
 thus." 
 
 "Sir," raged the honest old soldier, "sir, 
 you" 
 
 "The Chief Justice of the United States," called 
 out a messenger, and all rose in respect for the 
 
 398
 
 THE NINETEENTH OF APRIL 
 
 venerable head of the Supreme Court, who entered 
 the room leaning heavily on a cane. 
 
 His decision was prompt. The amendment to 
 the law which read "and thence to the heads of all 
 other departments of the government that shall 
 hereafter be created," was sufficient, he said. He 
 would administer the oath of office to Mr. Craig at 
 once. 
 
 But the man of all men who was wanted could 
 not be found. Messengers, secret service men and 
 labor delegates scoured the city in vain. The 
 hours dragged on in heart-breaking suspense until 
 nightfall, and still there were no tidings of Craig. 
 His enemies said that he had stolen away in 
 cowardly flight, while his friends hinted that he 
 had been done to death by the tools of the 
 plutocracy. 
 
 Shortly before eleven, as Philip and his father 
 approached the entrance of their apartment house, 
 the younger man was surprised to see the tall form 
 of Luke Ford, and another man whom he knew to 
 be a secret service officer, pacing regularly before 
 the door. An instant more and Ford had grasped 
 him by the hand and was wringing it frantically. 
 
 "For God s sake, where have you been, man?" 
 he almost screamed. "Absenting yourself this way 
 when they are half crazy to get you to take the 
 oath. It s terrible!" 
 
 "Oath ? What oath ?" repeated Philip vacantly. 
 Ford s voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, as he 
 comprehended all. 
 
 "You are President of the United States, Philip ; 
 the accident to Mr. Burlingame " 
 
 He stopped as he saw Craig reel in his tracks 
 and grasp the iron fence, clinging like a drunken 
 
 399
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 man to the pickets for support. A deathly pallor 
 overspread his face, and his lips moved spasmodi 
 cally, but no sound came from behind them. Ford 
 drew out a flask and forced a few drops of brandy 
 between his teeth, and that and his own strength 
 of will brought him to himself again. 
 
 "President!" he said slowly, as if he had never 
 pronounced the word before. "President ! But 
 tell me" 
 
 "In a moment, Philip," replied Ford, as a closed 
 carriage came around a corner in answer to the 
 secret service man s whistle. "Get in here, quick, 
 and I ll explain on the way." 
 
 Ten minutes later the carriage, drawn by a pair 
 of furiously galloping horses, came to a halt at 
 the White House entrance. The three men who 
 alighted found Private Secretary Trent awaiting 
 them in his private office. Immediately the Chief 
 Justice, who had gone to one of the chambers for 
 a little rest, was summoned, and with the simple 
 formula that had long been the wonder of the 
 world, invested Philip Craig with the title and 
 powers of President of the United States. 
 
 400
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 GENERAL MACMAHON S PLEDGE. 
 
 THE shock of President Burlingame s death 
 was followed by the awe that invariably at 
 tends the passing of a chief executive in 
 office. That the end was tragic still more intensi 
 fied public sentiment, and for the moment a deep 
 hush fell upon Washington. So well had the secret 
 been kept that the first general news of the 
 calamity was spread abroad by the morning papers, 
 cried about long before the city was awake. The 
 details were most exhaustive, including the fever 
 ish search for Secretary Craig, the quarrel between 
 Pratt and Gen. MacMahon, and the taking of the 
 oath at night. Incidentally it was noted that 
 Deschapelles, the inventor of the gun that had 
 wrought such havoc, had disappeared and was 
 believed to have committed suicide; but few gave 
 much heed to that in the deeper significance of the 
 news. 
 
 The first solemnity over, there came a great, 
 an overwhelming exultation among the people that 
 the dispensation of death had raised one of their 
 own to the Presidency ; a profound gratitude that 
 Philip Craig had been far from the scene and not 
 standing beside Mr. Burlingame, as might well 
 have been the case. Some great power, they said, 
 had called him to the tomb of Washington when 
 the destroying angel stalked abroad. 
 
 401
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Slowly the members of the People s Congress 
 began to come out from the Coliseum, where they 
 had been in session but a brief time. No man 
 knew now what an hour would bring forth, or what 
 the convention itself could find to do. The bril 
 liant leader whose dramatic promise had thrilled 
 their Congress into acquiescence, was now the 
 head of the nation, with all the powers of that 
 exalted station. Surely something must come of 
 the wonderful train of circumstances. 
 
 No other topic of conversation than this was to 
 be heard among the knots of men who lingered in 
 front of the great building. 
 
 "But I don t understand, Bruce. How can he 
 be President?" 
 
 The speaker was a queer old fellow with a little, 
 wrinkled face, a long wisp of hair on his chin, and 
 the garb of nearly half a century before. He 
 smoked an ancient clay pipe with spasmodic puffs, 
 and seemed to justify the jocose title of the "Oldest 
 Inhabitant" which some brother delegates had 
 bestowed upon him. 
 
 "By law, Jerry, by law," answered Bruce the 
 very Bruce with whom Philip Craig had so nearly 
 come into collision on a rain) night some years 
 before. He had gained polish since then, and 
 expressed himself better. 
 
 "But in my time " quavered the "Oldest In 
 habitant." 
 
 "In your time, Jerry," interrupted Bruce, "there 
 were lots of things that were no good. But 
 now, thank God, the American workingman is as 
 good as his betters." With which truly oracular 
 statement, Bruce shrugged his broad shoulders 
 and elevated his shaggy eyebrows, with the con- 
 
 402
 
 GENERAL MACMAHON S PLEDGE 
 
 viction of having said something that would make 
 the day memorable. 
 
 "But how," continued the pertinacious old 
 man, "did this what s this his name is? this 
 Craig, how d he, a newcomer, jump into the 
 Presidency?" 
 
 Bruce surveyed his inquisitor pityingly. Much 
 as he valued his own rights of self-assertion, it was 
 his custom to bully all others for the expression of 
 theirs, at least when he felt that he could do so 
 safely. 
 
 "He doesn t tell, old friend," interposed the 
 clear-cut voice of Brandt, the German, who had 
 overheard the conversation, "because he doesn t 
 know himself." 
 
 Bruce scowled at the speaker, but as his shoul 
 ders were higher than his own, and fully as power 
 ful, he forebore to interrupt. 
 
 "It s simple enough," continued Brandt. "With 
 no vice-president the secretary of state would 
 have succeeded President Burlingame. But he, 
 with all the others of the cabinet, except Mr. Craig, 
 resigned day before yesterday. Their resignations 
 had been accepted, but Burlingame, poor fellow, 
 did not live to appoint their successors. You see 
 the new law " 
 
 The wild laugh and shrill, eerie voice of a woman 
 broke in upon the German s measured tones. 
 Hisses and cries interrupted, but the voice strug 
 gled on in screaming cadence. 
 
 "Burlingame, and now Craig. The King is 
 dead; long live the King!" 
 
 They turned and saw an extraordinary spectacle. 
 A large, florid woman, bedecked in tawdry finery 
 rather the worse for wear, was standing on an iron 
 
 403
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 bench haranguing the crowd, which was alter 
 nately denouncing and laughing at her. 
 
 "Craig is President and you adjourn," she 
 shrieked, shaking a large fist at her hearers. "You 
 do no more than the false Congress up there in the 
 capitol. They adjourn. You were sent here to 
 act. Novv s the time. Will Craig, President, be 
 any better to you than another? Why don t you 
 find out? I" 
 
 At this point a man sprang to the bench and 
 whispered something in her ear. She smiled 
 vacantly and followed him down and away with the 
 docility of a child. Another man, who had accom 
 panied him, remained behind. 
 
 "What s the matter, Langmaid?" asked a by 
 stander who knew the little shoe-operator. 
 
 "Poor Geoffrey Fairbrother s wife slipped out of 
 their boarding-house this morning, and got over 
 here somehow. She s not well, and the excite 
 ment " 
 
 "Oh, it was Mrs. Fairbrother, was it?" ex 
 claimed Bruce. "I know all about her. Used to 
 make lots of money, wasn t satisfied and lost every 
 thing speculating, even her mind." 
 
 But the question screamed at the crowd by a 
 deranged woman was asked many times that day 
 by men of cool good-sense. What would Craig 
 do, what could he do toward the fulfilment of his 
 pledge? 
 
 The People s Congress, before its adjournment 
 out of respect for the late President, had appointed 
 a committee to wait upon President Craig, and had 
 voted to meet from day to day until there should 
 be something to report. They were not wholly 
 
 404
 
 GENERAL MACMAHON S PLEDGE 
 
 averse to delay, for their expenses were paid and 
 Washington was a pleasant place in springtime. 
 
 The conservative element declared that Presi 
 dent Craig could scarcely be expected to do more 
 than he had already done. They pointed out the 
 fact that he had made official announcement of the 
 death of President Burlingame to both branches 
 of Congress, and had suggested an adjournment to 
 the following day, when he would call to their 
 attention some matters that were close to the heart 
 of the dead executive. 
 
 The radicals saw no certainty of action in this. 
 
 "What does he mean by that?" asked Luke 
 Ford, voicing well enough the opinions of his set. 
 "It may be much, but more likely it s little." 
 
 The new President s intent puzzled others in 
 higher places. The leaders of the Senate held a 
 conference that lasted far into the night, and 
 rumor had it that Andrew Haven had been present, 
 at least during a portion of the meeting. 
 
 Next day both branches of Congress met at the 
 usual hour. Again there seemed to be a holiday in 
 Washington, subdued by grave events, yet full of 
 the undercurrent of deep feeling. Great crowds 
 assembled around the capitol, for here, it was as 
 sumed, would be the theatre of momentous acts. 
 Perfect order was voluntary, and the police had 
 little to do. 
 
 As the members of Congress assembled they 
 were compelled to run the gauntlet of tens of 
 thousands of eyes, lighted either with hostility or 
 approval. A popular member of the lower House 
 would be saluted by the raising of hats by many; 
 a senator known to be hostile to the people would 
 be received with dull murmurs as he passed. It 
 
 405
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 was well for the peace of mind of some of them that 
 they could not catch the drift of the sotto voce 
 remarks. 
 
 At last an auto-car rolled up to the capitol steps 
 bearing two passengers, one a tall, big-framed 
 man, with his left arm in a sling, the other a short 
 individual wearing large, round spectacles. Some 
 one recognized the big man and shouted his name 
 to his neighbors. 
 
 "It can t be him," replied somebody else. "The 
 papers say he s sick." 
 
 "Papers ! H mph. It s Norton fast enough." 
 
 "What Norton? John Peter Norton?" 
 
 "Yes," roared a tremendous voice. "John Peter 
 Norton, the man who s brought misery to the 
 people. Down with him !" 
 
 With the speed of an electric current the name 
 passed from lip to lip, and as the strong-faced man 
 was seen slowly ascending the capitol steps, leaning 
 on the arm of his smaller companion, a deep long- 
 drawn hiss, like the escape of surcharged steam, 
 arose on the air and reached the ears of the two. 
 
 Half way up in his ascent, Norton paused, with 
 drew his arm from Haven s and stretched it toward 
 the crowd. As suddenly it dropped to his side, but 
 the upturning of his prominent chin and his defiant 
 pose spoke his contempt. He turned and walked 
 slowly, firmly up the remaining steps unaided. He 
 could hear the hisses until he passed into the lobby 
 of the great building. 
 
 Haven quaked with terror and stumbled along 
 after his chief, with many reproaches for his fool- 
 hardiness. He had used his utmost endeavor to 
 keep Norton at home on the ground of his health, 
 
 406
 
 GENERAL M ACM AEON S PLEDGE 
 
 and had been strongly seconded by the family and 
 the physician. 
 
 "No more of this nonsense," Norton had ex 
 claimed sternly. "You, doctor, feel my pulse my 
 arm does it shake? I am as much myself today 
 as ever more so, they will find, more so." 
 
 Earlier in the day one of the newspapers, recog 
 nizing the unprecedented chance for exploiting 
 itself, had obtained permission to erect an 
 enormous blackboard in the plaza before the 
 capitol, and had made telegraphic connections 
 between it and its representatives in the reporters 
 galleries of both houses. Now, as the clicking of 
 the instruments began to be heard, there was a 
 great surging of thousands toward the stand. 
 
 "Both houses are appointing committees to ar 
 range for the late President s funeral," was the first 
 bulletin chalked up in huge letters on the black 
 board. 
 
 "A message from the President reaches the 
 House. It is now being read." 
 
 Then there was a long wait, and the applause 
 that had started feebly on the announcement of the 
 news died away in the tense impatience that 
 followed. 
 
 "The President declares that an embargo must 
 be placed on exportation of foodstuffs." 
 
 A resounding cheer swelled out over the sea of 
 heads, and shouts for the new ruler who had dared 
 to act filled the air. 
 
 "The message is not President Craig s, but one 
 which he says President Burlingame had pre 
 pared," announced the board. 
 
 The crowd, easily turned from joy to dejection, 
 read this with apprehensive silence. Bruce, Brandt, 
 
 407
 
 SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Ford and a few others of the New Yorkers, who 
 were in a little group near the stand, looked serious 
 at the information. 
 
 "Always harking back to Burlingame who s 
 dead," commented Brandt. "I fear, friends, we 
 shall wait in vain for initiative on the part of 
 Craig." 
 
 Ford s gaunt, sallow face grew darker with dis 
 pleasure. 
 
 "By God, if he fails us now " 
 
 Another tremendous outburst of cheers drowned 
 the threat completely. The men turned to the 
 bulletin. 
 
 "The message was President Burlingame s," 
 they read, "but it declares that it is the duty of 
 Congress as sworn representatives of the people, to 
 grant relief to the country. President Craig 
 endorses and reinforces it." 
 
 Now came in rapid succession the bulletins of 
 events within the splendid building, awaited with 
 breathless interest by the swaying multitude out 
 side, and greeted with hurrahs or hisses, as the 
 case might be. The people learned that the Senate 
 had laid the President s message on the table ; that 
 the House had passed a relief bill under suspension 
 of the rules; that the Senate had received the 
 House bill and was now discussing the measure. 
 
 Groans and vituperative yells greeted the infor 
 mation that Senator Norton was speaking on the 
 measure against it, everyone knew. Thereafter 
 came no bulletins for an hour. 
 
 Someone in the vast crowd started a patriotic 
 song, and the music swept over the throng and 
 swelled at last from ten thousand throats. One by 
 one the old time hymns of the fathers, rarely sung 
 
 408
 
 GENERAL MACMAHON S PLEDGE 
 
 of late, came from out the treasure-house of years 
 and rose triumphant, powerful, thrilling, on the 
 soft air. The mighty music penetrated even to the 
 senate-chamber and caused John Norton a mo 
 ment s pause in his speech of tremendous invective 
 against the lawless element that surrounds this 
 capitol." 
 
 At last came an announcement that stopped the 
 music and turned the voices of the throng into 
 curses and revilements. "The Senate rejects the 
 relief bill by a vote of 80 to 18, and adjourns until 
 to-morrow," it read. 
 
 The crowd dispersed slowly, surrounding the 
 few who had been able to get into the senate-cham 
 ber, in the feverish desire to obtain its news at first 
 hand. From all came the same reports : John Nor 
 ton s speech was the overwhelming feature of the 
 Senate s session. It had been masterly in its in 
 vective, powerful in its rugged eloquence, skilful in 
 its appeal to the spirit of conservatism. It had, all 
 acknowledged, put fresh spirit into the Senate and 
 caused the defeat of the House bill by the great 
 majority announced. 
 
 The afternoon papers blazoned the speech with 
 overgrown headings and at full length. The pero 
 ration, which the Spy described as "the final reply 
 of law and order to anarchy," was printed in black- 
 faced type of the most aggressive description. 
 
 "The issue is clear [Senator Norton had said]. 
 Is a so-called congress of idle vagabonds to awe 
 the Senate of the United States into an act which 
 will destroy the rights of the business men of this 
 nation to sell in the open markets of the world what 
 they have honestly bought? There is no other in 
 terpretation, and no amount of hysterical prating 
 
 409
 
 CW SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 about the rights of the people can disguise the fact 
 that tyranny, masquerading as liberty, is jeopard 
 izing the security of the nation and seeking to 
 trample upon the prerogatives of Congress. 
 
 "An accidental President, posing as a new 
 savior of his country, and acting as the mouth 
 piece of the rabble, commands the Senate. This 
 honorable body, respected both by tradition and 
 by the opinion of the conservative elements of our 
 country, will show such men their rightful place. 
 The Senate of the United States will do justice, but 
 it cannot be coerced." 
 
 That evening, in answer to his request, several 
 of the leaders of the Senate met the President at 
 the White House. Senator Norton did not come, 
 word being sent that he was again ill and under 
 the doctor s orders, a plea that did not impress 
 Craig very much. 
 
 Long and earnestly he labored with the senators, 
 pointing out to them as eloquently as he was able 
 the splendor of the opportunity to set themselves 
 right before the people, who, after all, must be the 
 real rulers of the nation. But he soon saw that 
 nothing could change their determination, and the 
 interview ended with the deadlock as unshaken as 
 before. 
 
 Then came the delegation from the United Men 
 of America, which Craig had purposely kept in 
 waiting until after the conference with the senators. 
 
 "Who is your chairman, gentlemen?" asked the 
 President when the men had filed into the room. 
 
 "I am, Mr. President," said Luke Ford, stepping 
 forward. 
 
 "What are you instructed to ask?" 
 
 "The fulfilment of your promise," was the im- 
 410
 
 GENERAL MACMAHON S PLEDGE 
 
 compromising reply. The others nodded ap 
 proval. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I have you know what I have 
 done to-day." 
 
 "Yes, but" 
 
 But it has failed, you would say. I have but 
 this to reply: to-day I have implored; to-morrow 
 I shall act. Good-night, gentlemen, and remem 
 ber that public sympathy, which alone supports 
 extreme measures, is easily forfeited. See to it that 
 good sense and good order prevail in these trying 
 times. Good night." 
 
 For some time Craig sat in thought, rapidly re 
 viewing the events of the day. Suddenly he arose 
 and touched a button. The clean-cut, frank-faced 
 Trent, President Burlingame s secretary, who had 
 shown a disposition to serve the new executive 
 faithfully and well, answered the summons. 
 
 "Oh, it s you, is it, Mr. Trent," said Philip 
 kindly, "I thought you had retired." 
 
 "No, Mr. President ; I believed you might need 
 me," was the reply. 
 
 "I shall need every honest man, Mr. Trent . . . 
 My message to Gen. MacMahon was it deliv 
 ered?" 
 
 "He is already in waiting." 
 
 "I will see him at once." 
 
 The Lieutenant-General of the army was a short, 
 thickset man with a florid face and large snow- 
 white moustachios and imperial. As Craig gazed 
 earnestly at his frank Celtic countenance he 
 thought he saw a man he could trust to the utter 
 most. But he must be absolutely certain of his 
 ground, and the best way, he knew, was to dispense 
 with circumlocution. 
 
 411
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Be seated, General," he said. "Not there 
 nearer me, please. I have sent for you because I 
 need you. To-morrow, if the Senate again refuses 
 to concur with the House on the embargo bill, and 
 also persists in refusing to agree with the House 
 to end the present session of Congress I shall ad 
 journ the session myself." 
 
 He paused a moment to note the effect of this 
 radical statement on the bluff old soldier. 
 
 "You do not seem surprised," he added. 
 
 "No. I expected this would come. President 
 Burlingame " 
 
 "Pardon me, I see you were in his confidence." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "And he and I are right ?" 
 
 The General s gray eyes sparkled, and he pulled 
 his white imperial vigorously. "Indubitably, sir," 
 he replied. "The constitution is quite clear that 
 the President may adjourn Congress to such time 
 as he sees fit in case of disagreement between the 
 two houses as to time of adjournment." 
 
 "I shall adjourn the Congress to-morrow," said 
 the President, solemnly. 
 
 "And act meanwhile?" 
 
 "And act meanwhile. I have reason to expect 
 resistance forcible resistance together with at 
 tempted impeachment. I have sent for you to ask 
 your position the position of the army." 
 
 The General rose and took the President s hand 
 in his with a hearty warmth that was as reassuring 
 as his words. Simply, quietly, untheatrically he 
 gave his pledge, and Craig s mind was at rest on 
 one point, at least. 
 
 "The army, sir, is now, as ever, at the command 
 of the President of the United States." 
 
 412
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 THE AROUSING OF THE TIGER. 
 
 SECRETARY TRENT was startled and 
 amazed when he arrived at the President s 
 private office early next morning to find Craig 
 bent over his desk in the study of a great pile of 
 books and papers. He was still more concerned 
 when he saw the haggard face and sunken eyes 
 that were turned toward him. 
 
 "You you have had no sleep?" he stammered. 
 
 "No, Mr. Trent, I have been busy with the au 
 thorities, as you see," he replied with a wan smile. 
 Then, picking up a newspaper before him : "I 
 have also just been reading Senator Norton s 
 speech again. It was very bitter, Mr. Trent." 
 
 "Exceedingly so, sir." 
 
 "But," exclaimed the President, angrily, rising 
 and crushing the offensive print in his hand, "but 
 false ! The people rule in this country, as he shall 
 know." 
 
 The secretary shook his head as he watched the 
 retreating figure of the executive out of sight. 
 
 "A terrible strain terrible," he said, pityingly. 
 "And what will come of it ?" 
 
 During the first hour of the session of the Senate 
 that day came a message from the President de 
 claring that if that branch could not concur on the 
 embargo bill originating in the House, or upon the 
 adjournment desired by the representatives, the 
 
 413
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 President, by the power vested in him by the Con 
 stitution, would adjourn Congress to the autumn. 
 
 Stony silence marked the reception of this state 
 paper, a silence broken only by a hyena-like laugh 
 from one of the rear seats. The pickle-senator had 
 opened his mouth in the chamber at last. 
 
 The Senate as a body treated the message with 
 equal, if less demonstrative, contempt. " It 
 promptly defeated reconsideration of the House 
 bill, refused to fix a time for adjournment, and im 
 peachment proceedings against the President of 
 the United States for "high crimes and misde 
 meanors" were begun. 
 
 The President heard the news without a sign of 
 emotion of any sort. His answer was a message 
 declaring Congress adjourned sine die. 
 
 The members of the House of Representatives 
 promptly dispersed after the singing of the old- 
 time traditional doxology started by the press men 
 in the gallery. The shouts of the people outside 
 told them of the popularity of their act. The Sen 
 ate, to intensify its spirit of bravado, voted at four 
 o clock to take a recess until eight. They reck 
 oned without their host. 
 
 When the hour of reconvening arrived the sena 
 tors found a vast, noisy, jubilating throng packed 
 about the capitol. Jibes and hisses and even 
 threats there were in abundance, but no acts of 
 violence, and the hated law-makers made their way 
 to the building with no great difficulty. 
 
 But their amazement and anger knew no 
 bounds when they found that every entrance to 
 the capitol was guarded by double files of United 
 States troops, and that no man was allowed to pass 
 without a permit. And as Gen, MacMahon had 
 
 414
 
 THE AROUSING OF THE TIGER 
 
 taken care that no permits should be granted, 
 there was no session of the Senate that night. 
 
 Already the newspaper extras were being sold 
 by tens of thousands on the crowded streets. 
 They all contained a proclamation by the Presi 
 dent issued at seven o clock. 
 
 This is not martial law," it read, "but the pro 
 tection of the rights of the people against usurpa 
 tion by a Senate that respects nothing save the 
 greed of wealth. The people, in this trying hour, 
 must support the executive loyally and quietly." 
 
 The effect of this warning against possible dis 
 order would have been most salutary, for the 
 masses already honored and respected their new 
 President. But, unfortunately, the same papers 
 contained a statement, in the form of an interview, 
 from Senator John P. Norton, which, by its arro 
 gance and studied insults, stirred the dark pools of 
 hatred and discontent anew. 
 
 The crowds that surged and flo\ved in ever-in 
 creasing density through the streets began to show 
 signs of turbulance. A hostile demonstration was 
 made before the office of the most bitter of the 
 newspaper organs of the senatorial clique, and 
 only the hurried arrival of a strong detachment of 
 police saved the establishment from wreckage. 
 
 The chief of the district police, although he had 
 every available man on duty, early foresaw that 
 lie could not control the crowds that were invad 
 ing every part of the city in great detached bands, 
 and he sent a message to President Craig asking 
 for troops to ensure order. The President de 
 clined to act. 
 
 That would be martial law," he sent back word. 
 "It would incite tumult, and its effect on the nation 
 
 415
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 at large would be disastrous. It must be done, if 
 at all, only as a last resource." 
 
 No sooner had the messenger departed than a 
 card was brought to Philip bearing the name of 
 Stuyvesant Lord, to be followed a moment later 
 by the ex-postmaster general in a state of trepi 
 dation and humility marvelously unlike his usual 
 almost brutal brusqueness. 
 
 "I am here, Mr. President," he began, "to see 
 what can be done to see what we can do to 
 avert the calamity that threatens the established 
 order of things. Government is subverted; busi 
 ness will be staggered, and the whole nation will 
 receive a terrible blow unless a halt is called to 
 this unfortunate strife." 
 
 "Ah," replied Craig, with a touch of bitterness, 
 "you are alive now to the effects of stagnation. 
 When it affected only the people, you did not care. 
 Well, what do you propose to do?" 
 
 "I can assure you that the Senate will reverse 
 its action," said Lord, flushing deeply, as if in 
 shame for his own weakness and defeat. He had 
 put his neck beneath the feet of the once-despised 
 Philip Craig, and he felt certain that the obeisance 
 would win the clay, distasteful as the action was. 
 
 "There is no Senate," replied the President. 
 
 "We will pass the embargo bill." 
 
 "Who is we ?" 
 
 "The the Senate," stammered the dumb 
 founded suppliant. 
 
 "There is no Senate, sir," replied the President, 
 coldly. "Your mission is a day late. You ex 
 pected, I assume, that I would meet your grovel 
 ing with as weak a surrender, and that I would 
 convene Congress in extraordinary session. I 
 
 416
 
 THE AROUSING OF THE TIGER 
 
 shall do nothing of the kind. The real representa 
 tive of the people is here" he drew himself up 
 proudly as he spoke and covered Lord with a gaze 
 of contempt. "Fate has willed in miraculous way 
 that I should act for the people. Rest assured I 
 shall not neglect my duty. To reassemble Con 
 gress now would be pitiable weakness before which 
 I and the people would be forced to the wall. Tell 
 those who sent you that as they have crossed their 
 Rubicon, so have I mine. There can be no 
 retreat." 
 
 As the man who had so often covertly sneered 
 at and insulted him left his presence, with bowed 
 head and dejected step, Philip Craig threw back 
 his head and laughed aloud. 
 
 "It is destiny destiny," he exclaimed, "and 
 how dare I thwart it ?" 
 
 "What is it, Mr. Trent?" he asked, as his pri 
 vate secretary entered the room and stood before 
 his desk. 
 
 "The chief of police wishes to see you on a mat 
 ter of great moment, Mr. President." 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 The chief had come to plead for soldiers. 
 
 "I appeal to you, Mr. President, because the 
 need is urgent," he said. "Already incendiary 
 placards have been posted up by some anarchistic 
 scoundrels, and they have hanged Senator Norton 
 in effigy in front of the War building. There s 
 going to be great trouble before the night is over, 
 as sure as we both live. I need, I must have 
 troops." 
 
 "I think you overestimate the seriousness of the 
 situation, Chief," replied the President confidently. 
 
 417
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "However, in order that there may be no mistake, 
 I am going out to see for myself." 
 
 "Your exclaimed the officer, aghast. "You 
 mix in all this disorder? Think of the danger, Mr. 
 President." 
 
 "Danger? From my own people?" returned 
 Philip scornfully. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. President, there are many here in 
 Washington to-night who are, unfortunately, not 
 your people. They are firebrands who may have 
 power to set the whole citizenry ablaze." 
 
 "Nevertheless, I am going. I shall take care 
 that I am not recognized. There need be no fear 
 whatever." 
 
 "Shall I detail a guard " 
 
 "What, and make a real danger? No, sir, I go 
 alone. If troops are needed, I will see that they 
 are furnished. Good night." 
 
 In a long coat and slouch hat the President 
 went forth a few minutes later. Not far from the 
 White House he found a crowd on the street, har 
 angued by a roaring orator who urged his hearers 
 to "action" of some sort against the aristocrats. 
 
 The few all at once grew to many by the magic 
 accretions of the night, and the speaker was for 
 gotten as the combined force swept along, 
 shouting, surging, threatening, bound for some 
 unknown point to wreak some unknown ven 
 geance for their wrongs. As yet there was no 
 guiding spirit to unify the fiery elements of unrest ; 
 as yet the crowd was as likely to be disrupted by a 
 laugh or a rough and tumble between two of its 
 component parts, as to become that senseless 
 engine of destruction, a mob, sympathizing with 
 out thought, condemning without reason. 
 
 418
 
 THE AROUSING OF THE TIGER 
 
 The President was borne along by the tremen 
 dous momentum of excited humanity, in spite of 
 his attempts to fall back, that he might observe, 
 without participating in, the uproar. As well try 
 to stem an avalanche with a plough. On he went 
 into the centre of a struggling, swaying, cursing, 
 jeering mass of men, using every endeavor to 
 preserve his incognito, fearing lest an accidental 
 up-flaring of his hat brim might show his face to 
 someone who would know it. 
 
 As the human stream debouched into an open 
 square, it struck fairly into the middle of another 
 immense phalanx and was quickly swallowed up 
 in its black maw. Here, the President noted, 
 many of the shops had erected heavy plank bar 
 ricades in front of their windows, while broken 
 glass and disordered goods showed that others had 
 already been the innocent victims of violence. 
 
 Squads of police lined the curbstones and kept 
 the crowd in the street by the sheer force of locust- 
 wood, as many a bruised and battered head bore 
 witness. 
 
 But this new aggregation of unrest, the Presi 
 dent saw, differed from the old in that it seemed 
 to be moved and directed by a master. Some 
 where in the swirling throng there was a leader 
 strong enough to be obeyed, magnetic enough to 
 be followed, for all at once the mass began to start 
 forward, and Craig found that the head of what 
 was now a howling and riotous procession was not 
 far from himself. 
 
 In the lead strode a tall man with flowing black 
 coat, long dark hair and a broad soft hat. Beside 
 him ran a screaming, red-faced woman waving a 
 
 419
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 red silk handkerchief that had been tied to a slim 
 umbrella. 
 
 "Luke Ford !" 
 
 The name came from the President s mouth 
 involuntarily. In the shock and horror of the 
 discovery that his old associate was the guiding 
 spirit of a mob that might become a band of 
 criminals before the night was over, he forgot 
 all caution and strove with all his might to force 
 his way to the front. But he was met by sturdy 
 shoulders and angry gro\vls, and he made no prog 
 ress whatever, save that of keeping step perforce 
 to the steady tramp of heavy feet. 
 
 All at once the virago in the lead turned and 
 shouted to those just behind : 
 
 "Norton! He s the real villain. Let s go and 
 see him!" 
 
 The rest took up the savage cry. 
 
 "To Norton s!" 
 
 "He s hiding; let s smoke him out." 
 
 "To the Norton palace!" 
 
 "We ll have no palaces !" 
 
 And so throughout the whole of the mob. The 
 tiger was awakened, and there was a definite prey 
 on which to spring. On, with ever-increasing 
 speed, went the throng, stones, sticks and pistols 
 appearing as by sudden understanding. 
 
 On the way was an oil warehouse, overwhelm 
 ingly tempting in its suggestion and its weakness. 
 With a mighty crash its door was burst open, and 
 Ford and a few others rushed in and rolled many 
 barrels into the streets. In an instant they were 
 on the shoulders of strong men and the terrible 
 march was resumed. 
 
 Sick at heart as he realized the intent of the 
 420
 
 THE AROUSING OF THE TIGER 
 
 crowd, Craig made one desperate effort to clear 
 himself. Using every ounce of strength there was 
 in him, and heedless of the curses and blows that 
 fell upon him, he managed to reach the outer edge 
 of the procession at a side street and escape into 
 obscurity. 
 
 With but one impulse in his breast, he rushed on 
 by a roundabout way to the Norton stables, which 
 he knew were in the rear of the house. He knew, 
 too, that Norton was a very sick man, for he had 
 been told that there had been a complete collapse 
 resulting from the strain of the Senate speech. It 
 was an old man, ill almost unto death, that the 
 rage of the mob desired as a sacrifice. It was but 
 common humanity to wish to save him. 
 
 At the stables he found old Bayles and 
 "Muggsy" just preparing to retire for the night. 
 These worthies were astonished beyond measure at 
 the apparition of the President, pale and breathing 
 hard from his great exertions. They were still 
 more astounded at his greeting. 
 
 "Do you value your master s life?" he ex 
 claimed. 
 
 Already the cries of the avenging host were 
 heard in the street before the house. 
 
 "Me an Doc " began "Muggsy," whom no 
 excitement could quite shake from his accustomed 
 formula, but his words were cut off in a twinkling. 
 
 "Harness your best horses in a carriage, then, 
 without an instant s delay. You, Bayles, go and 
 get the Nortons; tell them they must fly for their 
 lives, that a conveyance is waiting for them here." 
 
 The old man hobbled off with surprising rapid 
 ity, while Craig helped "Muggsy" hitch the horses 
 to the pole. 
 
 421
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 Now a terrific crashing of stone and wood on 
 iron was heard as the mob began battering at the 
 gates; then came the dull sound of their fall. A 
 flare of light cast its evil pallor on the stable roof; 
 cries of a thousand men mingled in one ominous 
 yell and still no one came from the house, save the 
 servants, who, one by one, rushed past panic- 
 stricken and disappeared into the by-street. 
 
 After what seemed an eternity to Philip s over 
 wrought nerves, he saw Norton, helped by the 
 Rev. Mr. Bentley and Mrs. Norton, totter down 
 the steps and into the courtyard. A second 
 feminine figure, the nurse, he presumed, came with 
 them, and as he stepped into an angle of the wall, 
 all entered the carnage. "Muggsy" Bayles seized 
 the reins and sprang to the box. "Doc" followed 
 in laborious fashion, cursing himself for his own 
 rheumatic slowness. 
 
 "Where shall we drive to, sir?" asked the junior 
 stableman. 
 
 "To to the White House," replied Craig. 
 "They will be safe enough there," he added below 
 his breath. There was a smart chirrup from 
 "Muggsy," a clattering of hoofs on the smooth 
 asphalt, a grinding of wheels as they turned a cor 
 ner sharply, and the party dashed to safety. 
 
 Philip Craig walked slowly away from the 
 scene of riot and destruction ; there was no 
 need for hurry now, and the reaction was great. 
 As he neared Pennsylvania Avenue, he turned and 
 looked back. The rich glow of mounting flames 
 illumined the sky, paling all other lights into in 
 significance. He almost fancied he could hear the 
 crackling of John Norton s treasures of luxury 
 and art, as they were sent to their destruction. All 
 
 422
 
 THE AROUSING OF THE TIGER 
 
 his hope, his courage, his faith left him for the 
 moment, as he thought of the work of those who 
 had once listened to and obeyed his words of 
 counsel. 
 
 "And they will say that I I am responsible," 
 he cried, in the agony of despair. 
 
 423
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 DESPOT OR MARTYR? 
 
 THE President returned to the White House 
 soon after midnight, his incognito preserved, 
 but his peace of mind shattered and his phys 
 ical being wearied beyond expression. The ser 
 vant who admitted him at a side entrance nudged 
 the secret service man on guard significantly. 
 
 "Looks as if he d aged ten years in two hours," 
 was his remark. 
 
 "No wonder, man," said the officer. "I don t 
 believe any President since good old Abe Lincoln 
 has had such a time of it. It s a wonder he s sane, 
 that s what." 
 
 Philip was met in the ante-room of his private 
 office by Secretary Trent; even that usually cool 
 and common-sense functionary seemed nervous 
 and depressed. 
 
 "Several are waiting to see you, Mr. President," 
 he said. "Gen. MacMahon and others." 
 
 "Oh, I can t well, in five minutes I will see the 
 General." 
 
 With his hand pressed to his forehead, which 
 throbbed and ached strangely, he went to a win 
 dow, drew aside the curtain and looked out into 
 the night. The ruddy glare in the sky only inten 
 sified his wretchedness. 
 
 "Oh, God, that they they could do this," he 
 
 424
 
 DESPOT OR MARTYR 
 
 muttered. He sank into a chair and bowed his 
 head upon the window-sill. 
 
 So General MacMahon found him, an object elo 
 quent of sorrow and disappointment. 
 
 "Pardon me, Mr. President," he began at last 
 very gently. "But Mr. Trent said- 
 Craig raised himself wearily and faced the old 
 soldier with a faint smile. 
 
 "Yes, General. Pray sit down." 
 
 "Is there time for that?" asked the other signifi 
 cantly, raising an arm toward the reddened sky. 
 
 The President felt the kindly rebuke he could 
 not resent. 
 
 "You wish?" he asked. 
 
 "Your orders, sir." 
 
 "Troops will be needed?" 
 
 "I think so. The the tumult is spreading." 
 It had been upon his tongue to say "riot," but a 
 glance at the sorrowful face before him changed 
 the word. "The people are much excited." 
 
 "How soon can you act?" 
 
 "At once. The Third Cavalry and two regi 
 ments of infantry are on this side of the river, 
 and I am in constant telephonic communication." 
 
 "Act, then, General," said the President with a 
 sigh. "I rely upon you that order be restored 
 without the spilling of a drop of blood, if that be 
 possible." 
 
 The soldier s face grew very grave. But what 
 ever his personal opinion, he could not find it in his 
 heart to do otherwise than lighten the burden of 
 the executive. 
 
 "I hope, nay, I trust, that it is possible," he 
 said calmly. 
 
 "Heaven grant it. Now go, General, go." 
 425
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 MacMahon saluted, turned on his heel and 
 walked with alert step from the room. With him 
 fled the respite of better cheer that his fine person 
 ality had brought into the room. With feet that 
 seemed leaden clogs, Philip began to pace the 
 apartment, talking aloud the while, as to another 
 presence. 
 
 "The pity of it," he exclaimed, "that my first 
 show of force must be directed at at my own peo 
 ple. No, not my own people," he corrected him 
 self fiercely. "Ford? Yes, and some other hot 
 heads, but for the most part the dregs of humanity. 
 The cause must not, shall not suffer for the turbu 
 lence of a few." 
 
 A tap at the door, and Mr. Trent entered. 
 
 "W T ill you see the Secretary I mean Mr. 
 Pratt?" he asked. 
 
 "On what business?" said the President almost 
 querulously. He was sick unto death of the eter 
 nal breaking in upon him. Would he never again 
 have a moment s rest? Or any sleep to-night? 
 Sleep! He and that gracious gift of nature had 
 parted company of late. Some day but Trent s 
 voice broke in. 
 
 "He asked me to say to you that his errand was 
 of the highest possible import to the nation." 
 
 "Well, then, I will see him, but in your presence, 
 Trent, if you please. You spoke of others. Who 
 are they? 
 
 The Secretary consulted a little card. 
 
 "Rev. Mr. Bentley and a lady of the party 
 that came in a carriage an hour ago with a message 
 from you." 
 
 Wondering dully why he had not thought of 
 them before, Philip replied : "Ah, yes. When you 
 
 426
 
 DESPOT OR MARTYR 
 
 return, bring Mr. Bentley and the lady with you; 
 it is Norton s wife, Trent. Think of me giving 
 sanctuary to the mob-hated John Peter." 
 
 He laughed, and the sound jarred on the secre 
 tary. He had conceived a warm liking for his 
 chief. 
 
 "By the way, where is Norton?" asked Craig, 
 surprised to find himself caring even for the where 
 abouts of the man. 
 
 "In the blue suite, and I thought you would 
 wish me to notify his physician." 
 
 "He is ill, then?" 
 
 "In mind, yes. There was a second stroke of 
 paralysis on his way home after the speech in the 
 Senate. And I thought his own physician, who 
 had just left him before this last excitement, 
 should " 
 
 "You acted wisely. Now admit Mr. Pratt. 
 You and the others come with him and remain 
 there." He pointed to an alcove partially screened 
 by a curtain of magnificent tapestry. There must 
 be witnesses to this interview. 
 
 The President sat down at his table, ready for 
 what might come. He knew the wonderful craft 
 of the ex-secretary of state, and were it to be a 
 match of wits against wits he would have expected 
 defeat. But this was to be a different contest. 
 Power of conviction, sense of right would prevail 
 against all the arts in the world, he felt. 
 
 In the dim shadows that engulfed the room out 
 side the narrow circle of his green-shaded reading 
 lamp, Craig saw three figures enter and pass into 
 the alcove : Trent s and that of a short, ungainly 
 man were two. The third was that of a woman. 
 The fourth, following just behind, was tall, slender, 
 
 427
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 cat-like in its gliding footsteps. It stopped on 
 the opposite side of the table. There were no 
 formalities. 
 
 "I have come, Mr. Craig," said Pratt, "in the 
 name of our common country." 
 
 "To what end, sir?" 
 
 "To the end," replied the ex-secretary, curling 
 his lean forefinger around the edge of the desk, 
 "to the end that the liberties of this nation may 
 not be imperiled; to avert bloodshed and a reign 
 of terror; to make impossible such scenes as to 
 night pollute the streets of Washington." 
 
 "I will gladly join hands with you, although I 
 fear you exaggerate somewhat." 
 
 "Exaggerate?" Pratt rose and strode to the 
 window, holding back the curtain. Still that dam 
 ning glow, although growing fainter with every 
 moment. "Is that exaggeration?" 
 
 The President dashed his hand across his fore 
 head as if in pain. 
 
 "I know," he said bitterly, "I was there." 
 
 The lean politician looked at Craig with intense 
 curiosity. What was this strange man fanatic, 
 fool, or hero? So lost in speculation was he that 
 for once he forgot to pick up the thread of conver 
 sation. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 The President s voice recalled him to the matter 
 in hand. 
 
 "Washington is not alone," he said earnestly. 
 "New York is on the verge of rioting. That has 
 been averted to-night only by prompt work by the 
 police. The militia has been ordered out, and 
 martial law proclaimed. In Chicago 
 
 "Enough, sir," broke in the President sternly. 
 428
 
 DESPOT OR MARTYR 
 
 "If neglect of the people has bred disorder, it is not 
 the fault of the cause I represented before destiny, 
 fate, mischance call it what you will made me 
 the representative of all the people." 
 
 "Fanatic, surely," thought Pratt, "and very 
 likely all the rest besides." 
 
 "You say," continued Craig, "that you come to 
 prevent such perils as you foresee. What is your 
 mission to me?" 
 
 "It is simple. Public confidence and quiet will 
 return only when Congress resumes its sessions 
 peaceably. We ask that it be called in extraordi 
 nary session to-morrow." 
 
 "With what understanding?" 
 
 The ex-secretary fixed his cold and penetrating 
 eyes on the pale face across the table, and spoke 
 with immense deliberation. 
 
 "That the Senate will pass the foodstuffs em 
 bargo bill." 
 
 "I have that assurance? " 
 
 "Yes, on one condition." 
 
 "Ah, a condition." Craig raised his head with a 
 quick gesture of expectancy. "And the condition 
 is?" 
 
 "Well," said Pratt, suavely, "of course it will be 
 well, impossible for a President created under 
 such circumstances to " 
 
 "Come to the point, sir," exclaimed Craig, with 
 a sarcastic smile. "It ought not to be so very dif 
 ficult. You demand my resignation." 
 
 "Well, I suppose that is" 
 
 "And your alternative?" 
 
 "If you do not call the session?" 
 
 The President bowed. 
 
 "We shall meet in another city the House as 
 429
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 well, for the disorder has shown the majority of its 
 members their mistake and the Senate will " 
 
 "Impeach me?" 
 
 Pratt signified an affirmative. 
 
 "And what if I prevent your session disperse 
 the Congress by force?" 
 
 "Then, sir," returned the ex-secretary, his voice 
 quivering with suppressed anger, "it will be force 
 against force, and you will be proceeded against 
 as a dictator." 
 
 "A dictator!" Craig repeated the words in a 
 profound whisper, as of a man communing with 
 his own nature. The portrait of another president, 
 whom his enemies had accused of seeking for ab 
 solute power, caught his gaze, and he stared at the 
 rugged face with a strange smile. "Well, why 
 not?" he thought. "If I agreed to this proposal, I 
 would have failed, the cause would be lost, and 
 Weakerdom would be Weakerdom still. Shall it 
 be defeat, or " 
 
 "Mr. Pratt," he burst forth suddenly, in a voice 
 that made his visitor start involuntarily, skilled old 
 diplomat that he was, "this is my answer. Con 
 gress shall not meet, in Washington or elsewhere, 
 if the army the army that is in sympathy with, 
 that belongs to the cause, that belongs to me as 
 the representative of the cause can prevent it. 
 If you proceed with the impeachment farce, I shall 
 order the arrest of its advocates as traitors." 
 
 Pratt rose to his full height, impressive from its 
 very gauntness, and shook his bony hand at 
 Philip s face. 
 
 "That is anarchy, sir." 
 
 "Perhaps," exclaimed the President, rising in 
 turn and confronting his accuser without flinching, 
 
 430
 
 DESPOT OR MARTYR 
 
 "but there is sometimes more anarchy in law than 
 in its overriding. Up to now I have tried to guide 
 the law to secure the rights of the people. As you 
 and your associates act, so shall I. I shall prevail 
 as President, if I can, as a man of the people, for 
 the people as dictator, if I must." 
 
 The eloquence that sincerity lent his voice and 
 the imperious gesture toward the door moved 
 Pratt more than he would have liked to confess. 
 And he, whose boast it was that no man could 
 sway his sentiment, turned as he went and bowed 
 with respect. 
 
 "Revolution, perhaps," he muttered on his way 
 to the street, "but it will not endure long, and he 
 will be buried in the ruins of his good intent." 
 
 The President sat down, and leaned back his 
 head, his eyes closed in forgetfulness that others 
 were in the room. Only the great thrilling fact 
 of his decision, of his avowed willingness to wield 
 the sceptre of unlimited might, held any reality for 
 him. The golden glory of a future of vast useful 
 ness, unmatched, perhaps, by that of any man the 
 world had yet seen, seemed to irradiate his mental 
 horizon and bear him far from the black visions 
 of the night. 
 
 "Philip." 
 
 Back from the region of phantasy came the soul 
 of the President at the sound of that tender voice, 
 thrilling with pity in the old-remembered way. 
 Yes, there stood Adoniram Bentley before him, 
 bending upon him that strange gaze of half mys 
 ticism, half compassion that so often had been 
 given to others. 
 
 "Does he think me innocent or guilty?" thought 
 Philip. 
 
 431
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 There was no answer in the warm hand-clasp 
 from the little clergyman, for that would have 
 been vouchsafed to the worst of criminals. Philip 
 would have spoken, but that Mr. Bentley released 
 his hand and pointed toward the alcove. 
 
 "She is waiting to see and thank you," he 
 said, and stole quietly from the room. 
 
 Craig went to the alcove and clutched the costly 
 tapestry with a strong grip. Here was to come 
 the most intimate, the most painful part of the 
 night s experiences. 
 
 "Mrs. Norton," he said, as firmly as he was able. 
 
 The heavy curtain rustled and a figure came 
 forth, not not the form of one to whom age is 
 already beckoning, but that of a lithe and splendid 
 creature in the rich flush of womanhood. Across 
 the sea of the years, brought together by the 
 waves of destiny, Philip Craig and Helen Norton 
 were once more near enough to touch one an 
 other. 
 
 The man was the first to speak. 
 
 "Helen! You? I thought you were at the 
 hospital." 
 
 "You knew, then ?" with a sad little smile. 
 
 "And you " disregarding her question "yon 
 were you lived through that horror?" He 
 turned his head toward the window, where now 
 only a faint radiance could be seen. Helen in 
 clined her head ever so gently. 
 
 "I thank you for your kindness to to my 
 mother," she said. It was the only word possible, 
 although he knew that another, a broken, helpless 
 man was in her thought. 
 
 "I only did what a man should," he answered 
 gravely. No taint of heroics could he endure for
 
 DESPOT OR MARTYR 
 
 a moment. A long silence brooded over them. 
 Again Philip s voice was the one to break the 
 pause. 
 
 "Helen?" 
 
 "Yes," she whispered. 
 
 "Strange fate, to bring us together again, like 
 this. It must be for a purpose." Another lapse 
 into stillness. Then, with almost startling sudden 
 ness, he exclaimed : 
 
 "You have heard all, of course?" 
 
 She nodded assent. 
 
 "Was I am I right?" 
 
 "Your conscience must answer that," she re 
 plied gently. 
 
 "Is conscience a safe guide, I wonder?" he said 
 
 musingly. "Years ago I thought so, Helen, when 
 I " 
 
 "When you left my father," she finished for him. 
 "When you wrote the explanation I did not read." 
 
 "Yes, but how" 
 
 "I read it years after." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "Then I knew how you had been wronged." 
 
 "Helen !" There was a note of tremulous joy in 
 his voice, a tone that had been a stranger to him 
 since the long buried past. 
 
 "Then the victory was with the man my father 
 who now lies stricken as a guest under this, 
 your roof. Now the triumph is yours. I was 
 proud of you in after years when I knew of your 
 defeat." 
 
 "Are you proud of me in victory?" he asked 
 wistfully. "Not over your father," as he saw a 
 shadow over the beautiful face, "no, not that. I 
 have no fight with him, but only with the cause 
 
 433
 
 OAT SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 he, with others, represents. Helen, are you proud 
 of me now ?" 
 
 He stepped forward to receive her answer, a 
 great light of hope upon his careworn face, but 
 before she could speak, Trent, the secretary, was 
 in the room, with a murmured apology. 
 
 "I thought you were alone, Mr. President," he 
 said. "I have a message from Gen. MacMahon 
 marked urgent . " And he handed Craig a sealed 
 envelope. 
 
 As Helen walked toward the door, Philip fol 
 lowed with a look of enquiry. It seemed impossi 
 ble that she should leave him until she had given 
 him either encouragement or . Well, better 
 condemnation than uncertainty on such a night as 
 this. 
 
 "I must go to my mother," she said simply. He 
 opened the door, but took her hand for a moment 
 and detained her with gentle clasp. 
 
 "One word, Helen," he implored. "Do you 
 approve?" 
 
 Once more she turned on him her strange, sadly 
 sweet smile. 
 
 "When your conscience approves, I shall ap 
 prove, now as always." 
 
 Her parting look haunted him. In it he read 
 the whole enigma of life, the unanswered and the 
 unanswerable problems of heart and soul. Yet 
 were they unanswerable ? There was one solution. 
 Dared he ? A rustle from the envelope he held 
 tightly in his hand brought back his wandering 
 mind. 
 
 "Gen. MacMahon reports the city quiet every 
 where, and no lives sacrificed," he said to Trent, 
 as he read the message. 
 
 434
 
 DESPOT OR MARTYR 
 
 "Thank God for that," replied the secretary 
 fervently, and the earnestness of the man who 
 had hitherto seemed almost an automaton, sur 
 prised the President greatly. 
 
 "The General asks my orders for the day, Trent. 
 Is there a messenger waiting?" 
 
 "Yes, an orderly." 
 
 "Send a request that the General come to me at 
 daybreak," said the President wearily. "No, I shall 
 not need you again. You must be worn out. 
 Good night." 
 
 "Good night, Mr. President." 
 
 "One moment, Mr. Trent. Has my father 
 retired?" 
 
 "I think not. He was in the private library a 
 half hour ago." 
 
 "Very well, I will go to him there." 
 
 Trent saw the President shiver slightly, and 
 noted, with some apprehension, that his face had 
 suddenly become flushed as with fever. "A bad 
 combination," he thought. 
 
 "You are cold," he said. "It s raining, and I m 
 afraid you ll find the library damp. Had I not 
 better order a fire made?" 
 
 "Thank you, no. Good night." 
 
 As the President ascended the stairs slowly, 
 Trent looked after him, his brows knitted with 
 deep thought. What was this strange character, 
 he wondered, despot or martyr? Champion of the 
 people, or a victim of colossal self-esteem? He 
 fell into fitful sleep with the question still 
 unanswered. 
 
 435
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 "ON SATAN S MOUNT." 
 
 AS the President entered the library, which 
 was in a sad state of disorder by reason of 
 the half-emptied boxes of papers and books 
 he had sent over from his apartments, he found 
 his father reading and half nodding in a great 
 leathern chair. 
 
 The old man rose with a start, and the volume 
 fell from his hands to the floor. He came forward 
 and grasped Philip affectionately by the shoulders. 
 Then he held him at arm s length and gazed earn 
 estly at the anxious face. 
 
 "My son, my son," he exclaimed. "An is a 
 weel wi ye in these sair trooblous times?" 
 
 "Yes, father, as well as I could expect." Again 
 Philip shivered. He felt a curious sense of cold 
 ness which surprised and annoyed him. 
 
 "Ye re cauld," exclaimed Angus. 
 
 "It s chilly here. The window is open. No, sit 
 down, please. I ll close it." 
 
 He went to the casement and looked out, as if 
 for tidings of the night. 
 
 "The sky is dark again," he said to himself. 
 "The flames have been quenched by the rain, to 
 break forth again when? Where?" 
 
 "It is cold here," he said again, turning to his 
 father. Then, for the first time, he noted the lit- 
 
 436
 
 "ON SATAN S MOUNT" 
 
 tered appearance of the room. "Why, father, what 
 have you been doing?" 
 
 "Putting the bukes in poseetion, that s a ; the 
 dear bukes," replied Angus, bending over his 
 treasures and stroking their backs as tenderly as 
 if they were sentient things. 
 
 "You never could bear to have anyone else touch 
 them," said Philip, with a smile at the old-time 
 jealousy, "not even me. Now you d better bundle 
 off to bed, like a good father." 
 
 Angus shook his gray head decisively. 
 
 "Na, Philip, not yet. I want tae tae talk wi 
 ye, tae hear " His voice quivered with anxiety, 
 and his tongue refused to conclude the sentence. 
 To hide his emotion he made a great ado about 
 wiping his spectacles and replacing them in exact 
 position. 
 
 "Well, have your own way," returned the son 
 kindly. "You always were masterful, you know. 
 I ll make a little fire with these box covers and 
 paper." 
 
 He busied himself for a minute or two collecting 
 the rubbish and placing it in the grate, while the 
 keen eyes of old Angus watched every movement 
 and noted, too, the worn and harassed air of his 
 son. Tenderness welled up from the heart that 
 had been sealed so long, and with it came pity and 
 a great fear for the future. This w T as no longer 
 the President of the United States, but his boy, the 
 boy whose youth he had, perhaps, not made as 
 bright as he should. He came over to where 
 Philip stood gazing at the fast rising flames, and 
 touched him gently on the arm. 
 
 "Philip." he said very softly. 
 
 "Yes, father." 
 
 437
 
 OAT SATAN S MOUNT.. 
 
 "I maun tell ye summat." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "These bukes ye ken they were aye meant for 
 you, and ye ken I made ye pay for ye er board 
 when that ye were a lad? Ye ken that?" 
 
 "Of course, and I was often very much scared 
 when pay clay came and I was a few pennies 
 behind." 
 
 "Weel, I meant it for ye er gude, Philip." 
 
 "I do not doubt it." 
 
 "For ye er gude, lad," the old man repeated 
 earnestly. "Ilka cent ye paid me went intae the 
 library ye er library. That ye most like didna 
 ken, Philip." 
 
 Tears filled the President s eyes and words were 
 choked in his throat. To conceal the emotion for 
 which he felt that species of shame common to 
 men of a strong race, he stooped and picked up 
 one of the boxes from which the books had been 
 taken, and carried it to the fireplace, where he 
 emptied its contents of paper and bits of broken 
 wood on the flames. Having mastered himself, he 
 turned to see his father s head nodding in a chair. 
 
 "Poor old man," he said to himself. "Worn 
 out, and so am I so am I." 
 
 He leaned against the mantel-piece and gazed 
 down into the fire, whose curling tongues were 
 licking with the savagery of a wild animal the food 
 he had just provided. Again he thought with 
 shame of that other and larger conflagration in 
 which the passions of men had played their part. 
 And, as the flames died down and left a red and 
 glowing mass behind, he wondered if so would the 
 excitement of a half-crazed people. 
 
 Then something that surely was not meant for 
 438
 
 "ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 fire caught his eye. Among the ruddy embers 
 were the dark covers of a book, stretched out as if 
 in mute appeal for rescue. With the inborn and 
 highly trained love for the printed page, he 
 stooped and dashed his hand into the grate, pull 
 ing the volume, a charred and blackened mass, 
 upon the hearthstone. 
 
 To seize a vase from the mantel, and pour its 
 contents, flowers and all, upon the object he had 
 saved was but the work of an instant. He glanced 
 toward his father with almost child-like pertur 
 bation. 
 
 "Fast asleep," he murmured thankfully. "If he 
 knew it, he d almost want to chastise me. It must 
 have been in the box I emptied into the fire. I 
 wonder what book it is." 
 
 He picked up the warm, moist volume and car 
 ried it to the shaded lamp. The ruin was pathetic 
 and complete no, not ciuite complete, he saw, for 
 one poor, flame-seared page still remained in part, 
 and on it he read these words : 
 
 " And the devil, taking Him up into an high mountain, shewed 
 unto Him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time. 
 
 " And the devil said unto Him, All this power will I give thee, 
 and the glory of them: for that is delivered unto me; and to 
 whomsoever I will I give it. 
 
 "If thou therefore wilt worship me, all shall be thine. 
 
 " And Jesus answered and said unto him, Get thee behind me, 
 Satan : for it is written, Thou shalt 
 
 His trembling fingers turned over the blackened 
 cover. There, in a hand of almost ghostly deli 
 cacy, were the faint words: "Mary Craig, Her 
 Bible." Like a voice from the tomb of the buried 
 years the words seemed to sound afar off. 
 
 439
 
 Again he read the fragment of the page slowly, 
 and as slowly repeated aloud : 
 
 " And said unto him, Get thee behind me, 
 Satan. 
 
 With staring eyeballs he stood there, holding 
 the sacred relic before him. Like a man con 
 demned to die, he seemed to hear the minutes rush 
 past with actual sound. Could nothing stop them, 
 these inexorable masters of human destiny? 
 Would no power grant him a reprieve, just a little 
 space of time for thought, for the putting of him 
 self right with his own soul and the demands of 
 heaven? He groaned aloud in his agony. 
 
 "Eh Philip, lad, what s the matter?" muttered 
 his father, awakened by the sound. He started up 
 in affright as he saw the rigid face of his son. 
 
 "Philip!" he said sharply. 
 
 "Yes," was the reply, but the voice was that of a 
 man held by a trance. 
 
 "What ails ye, Philip ? W r hat- 
 
 "I have been away, far away, on Satan s 
 mount." The solemn words and the still, drawn 
 face struck a chill to the old man s heart. Was his 
 son, his strong, splendid Philip, going mad? 
 
 But presently the younger man came to him and 
 gently put the remains of the book in his lap. 
 
 "Look, father," he said gently. 
 
 Horrified, Angus saw the pitiful wreck of the 
 familiar Bible, the most intimate and precious 
 memento of his idolized wife. His face grew stern 
 with the shocking discovery. 
 
 "Ye er mither s gude book, Philip, in the fire !" 
 he said. 
 
 "I saved it from the fire; perhaps it will oh, 
 father, father !" 
 
 440
 
 "ON SATAN S MOUNT" 
 
 The long strain of the bitter conflict, the terrible 
 disappointment, the message from the flames, 
 broke the man down utterly, and like a boy yet 
 as he had never done in boyhood days Philip 
 Craig, the President, knelt at his father s knees and 
 sobbed aloud. Here, and for the first time, he 
 made a shrine for his bruised and wearied soul and 
 felt no restraint. 
 
 Old Angus stroked his son s head with womanly 
 gentleness and crooned over him as over a child. 
 
 "My poor bairn, my bonny Philip," he said. 
 "Dinna ye grieve so sair. There is no fau t in ye; 
 the ithers hae done the harm." 
 
 But Philip refused to be comforted, at least till 
 he had poured out his story of struggle, of ex 
 pected triumphs for his "people," of grief at their 
 violence and the sudden new light that had shone 
 in upon his mind. Nor did his wise old confessor 
 break in upon him until the whole had been told. 
 
 "I did what I thought best for the people, for 
 the country" he concluded in abject self-abase 
 ment, "but do two wrongs ever make a right? 
 Have T not played the part of a sophist? How am 
 I better than John Norton when I proclaim my 
 self the arbiter of the destiny of others, when, by 
 rousing men s passions by appealing to their self- 
 interest, I jeopardize the future peace and prosper 
 ity of the nation? Like Norton I have been borne 
 headlong by a self-created torrent of ambition. I 
 exulted in power, I thought, because it would 
 benefit others. I would destroy in the effort to 
 create." 
 
 He paused for a moment, overcome by the bit 
 terness of his own denunciation, and again felt his 
 
 441
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 father s soft hands resting upon his head as with 
 a blessing. 
 
 "Oh, father, father," he burst forth passionately, 
 "I have been tempted, and to-night I yielded at the 
 vision of the kingdoms of the world. I have said 
 in my heart : I arn the law ; I shall rule ; I shall be 
 obeyed. I, who have preached for years of the 
 rights of the people, would have taken their rights 
 away. And now now I am brought low." 
 
 And thus the father and the son sat, until the 
 cold and feeble light of dawn stole in at the win 
 dow and gave an unearthly pallor to the lamp, 
 and an added wanness to both their faces. In 
 those hours of supreme self-contempt and at 
 tempted consolation and encouragement, the two 
 found at last the holiness of kinship. 
 
 At sunrise Gen. MacMahon, in full uniform, and 
 with a countenance as fresh and rosy as if loss of 
 sleep were a tonic, arrived at the White House, 
 accompanied by a mounted staff. 
 
 "The President wishes to see you in his library," 
 he was told. 
 
 When he entered the room in response to a low 
 reply to his knock, he saw that which, hardened 
 soldier as he was, brought mist across his eyes. 
 There in a chair, asleep, was Angus Craig, deep 
 peace upon his face, while the President, seated by 
 his side, held his father s hand in his own. 
 
 "Speak softly, please, General," he said, "my 
 father is an old man and wearied, and I do not 
 want to wake him." 
 
 To MacMahon the son looked the older and 
 more wearied of the two, but it was not for him to 
 speak his thoughts. In a whisper he asked : 
 
 "Your orders, Mr. President?" 
 442
 
 "ON SATAN S MOUNT" 
 
 "You will remove your soldiers from the Capitol 
 and disperse the Army of the East to its usual sta 
 tions. Congress will meet in extraordinary session 
 this afternoon." 
 
 All the case-hardened old warrior s ingrained 
 homage for discipline could not prevent a start at 
 this astounding information. He opened his 
 mouth to speak, but the President raised a warn 
 ing hand, and looked tenderly at the slumbering 
 figure before him. 
 
 "Very well, Mr. President," the General said in 
 a low tone ; then he bowed and went out to execute 
 the orders he had received in such surprising 
 fashion. 
 
 "Curious, curious," he muttered as he descended 
 the stairs. "I could have sworn that when he 
 raised his hand I saw in it the charred remains of 
 a book. In heaven s name what does it all mean ?" 
 
 443
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE NEW CABINET. 
 
 * TTAVE the newspapers arrived, Mr. Trent?" 
 "I believe so, Mr. President. I will 
 bring them in." 
 
 Philip Craig sat at the great table in the Cabinet 
 Room engrossed in labor, and the sun was not yet 
 an hour high. If his face was pinched and gray it 
 was from physical causes now, for on it was a look 
 of spiritual calm that had long been a stranger 
 there. 
 
 Philip seized the papers eagerly and ran his eye 
 over the black headlines on their first pages. A 
 great sigh of relief, in which there was surprise, 
 too, came from his lips as he saw that every journal 
 had treated the matter of the "Embargo Riots," as 
 they were long known, with unlooked-for con 
 servatism, dwarfing rather than magnifying their 
 importance. 
 
 In their editorial utterances they gave still more 
 comfort to the President, absolving entirely the 
 People s Congress and the class it represented from 
 any responsibility for the outbreak, holding that 
 it was a sporadic and natural manifestation of the 
 effect of public feeling on the ruffianly element of 
 the several cities where trouble had occurred. 
 
 "Thank God for the press, after all," exclaimed 
 Philip, fervently. "And yet how little they know 
 of the facts. But it is better so much better." 
 
 444
 
 THE NEW CABINET 
 
 Before long his work was interrupted by the 
 cards of a perfect host of reporters and correspond 
 ents, who swarmed about the White House as if 
 they could wring information from its very walls 
 and doors. The gentlemen of the press certainly 
 had much visual food for reflection and guess 
 work, for messengers were ever coming and going 
 throughout the early forenoon, and men whose 
 very names meant importance were seen entering 
 the building, to emerge with events writ large 
 upon their faces. 
 
 Among these callers were several of the senators 
 who had been most bitter in their hostility to the 
 President, and from this fact the newspaper men 
 argued a compromise of some sort. But they re 
 frained from sending out conjectures, for the most 
 unthinking of them felt that at so critical a time 
 there must be facts or nothing. 
 
 For a rime the President firmly declined to 
 receive any of the journalists or to give them word 
 as to what was happening. But, shortly before 
 noon, he sent Mr. Trent to the correspondent s 
 ante-room with the announcement that he had a 
 statement for the press, and requested them to 
 choose one of their number to receive it. Landor, 
 the agent of the Associated Press, was unani 
 mously selected, as being in the best position to 
 forward the plain statement to the papers they 
 served ; this they could embellish later as seemed 
 individually fitting. 
 
 The President was alone when Landor entered 
 the Cabinet Room, and he rose cordially to greet 
 the man whom he had always liked and trusted. 
 
 "I am glad you have been chosen, Mr. Landor," 
 he said, "for I wish through you and the press to 
 
 445
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 take the people into my confidence. For the sake 
 of restoring public tranquillity as speedily as pos 
 sible I propose that the newspapers shall antici 
 pate, semi-officially, so to speak, my policy. To 
 issue a personal and formal statement of intent 
 might result, in this time of excitement, in mis 
 apprehension. I prefer, at all events, that you 
 gentlemen should tell the facts as if gathered by 
 you and not dictated by me. You comprehend?" 
 
 Landor bowed his understanding of the affair, 
 and his face was instinct with sympathy and inter 
 est as he prepared to transcribe for the world the 
 most important news he had ever gathered. 
 
 "I can state the case in very few words," the 
 President went on. "I shall call in fact, have 
 already called by personal messages to each mem 
 ber an immediate extraordinary session of Con 
 gress. The embargo bill will be enacted at once, 
 and I have absolute assurances that all the legisla 
 tion affecting the interests of the wage-earners of 
 the nation that has been introduced at this year s 
 session, will be adopted, with the possible excep 
 tion of the arbitration bill. Even that may be 
 passed in a modified form." 
 
 "A victory, a tremendous victory," thought 
 Landor, as he worked away at his notes with the 
 utmost care. And yet the calm voice, in which 
 there was even a touch of listlessness, of dull un 
 concern, was not that of a man who had triumphed 
 over his enemies, and whose dearest hopes were 
 about to be realized. But perhaps it was but 
 another phase of this strange character, and not 
 to be taken for what would be its face value in 
 another. 
 
 "I have been criticised, Mr. Landor," said 
 446
 
 THE NEW CABINET 
 
 Craig, "I have even been accused of potential 
 tyranny because I have not named a cabinet. I 
 have not done so for very simple reasons. The 
 men I could have had two days ago my enemies 
 would have denounced as demagogues; others 
 whom I would have liked would not have served 
 in my cabinet as matters stood then." 
 
 Landor looked up with keen appreciation in his 
 eyes; he understood, and understanding, honored 
 the President more than evef. 
 
 "To-day it is different. I have appealed to men, 
 not to partisans. The cabinet I have selected is 
 composed of citizens whose public service in the 
 past has entitled them to the honors of retirement. 
 But each is a Cincinnatus, and I believe that none 
 of them will refuse to take up the burden again for 
 the sake of the country. In fact, the replies I have 
 already received to my duplicate telegrams prove 
 that I am not over-confident." 
 
 He pointed with a certain glow of pride to a 
 little pile of yellow sheets that lay upon the desk. 
 Here at least were the fruits of a work in which 
 there could be no blemish of regret, no taint of any 
 interest save the nation s. 
 
 "I shall announce my cabinet through you," said 
 the President. "These are the names." 
 
 Notwithstanding his long training in the pro 
 fession that seeks to know no possible shock to the 
 nerves, Landor heard the reading of the names 
 with more excitement than he had known since the 
 salad days of his first assignment. 
 
 The list was, indeed, extraordinary. It con 
 tained the names of former cabinet officers of both 
 parties ; of a great senator whose learning and up 
 rightness had made him known all over the world ; 
 
 447
 
 OA r SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 of two retired congressmen with unstained records 
 of long service: of a noble philanthropist who was 
 still a man of affairs; of a famous sociologist who 
 had studied the masses to effective purpose. 
 
 Great as was the personnel of this new official 
 family for the President, eminently fitting as were 
 the men for the tasks to which they were called, it 
 was evident that they had been chosen chiefly 
 because of the confidence they would inspire in the 
 minds of all good citizens throughout the land. 
 As a general is sometimes appointed for the effect 
 of his mere personality on the morale of the army, 
 so were these great commanders of peace named 
 by the chief executive. If the move were sensa 
 tional, it had, at least, the sanction of splendid 
 precedent. 
 
 Landor ran his pencil down the list, and stopped 
 suddenly. 
 
 You have not mentioned " 
 
 "The secretary of industry and the secretary of 
 state," interrupted the President. "They are im 
 portant, are they not, for one w 7 ill be my successor 
 while the other" he smiled with a sadness that 
 somehow affected Landor like a strain of mournful 
 music "the other may be. The secretary of in 
 dustry will be Adoniram Bentley. You, who know 
 him and his works, know why he is chosen. The 
 identity of the secretary of state will not be known 
 until well, until he has accepted." 
 
 The newspaper man, his sense of professional 
 duty again aroused, rose to leave with his wonder 
 fully rich "copy." To him came the President, 
 and, placing both arms on his shoulders, gazed 
 into his face with a sad smile that Landor never 
 forgot. 
 
 448
 
 THE NEW CABINET 
 
 "Is it a good story, Landor? A pity, isn t it, 
 that it s not an exclusive. Tell me, Landor," 
 and the grip on the newspaper man s shoulders 
 tightened "not as journalist to President, but as 
 one man to another: have I done well? Will 
 America be at rest? Will the people be satisfied?" 
 
 "They will, Philip, they will ; they cannot be 
 otherwise," replied the other with intense earnest 
 ness, grasping the President s hand with an admi 
 ration and a depth of respect he had felt for few 
 men. 
 
 As he passed into the ante-room Landor saw 
 Luke Ford s spare form standing near a window, 
 as if the mind inside it were engaged in deep 
 thought. Ford could scarcely be said to have 
 come unscathed through the warfare of the night 
 before, for his ecclesiastical coat was disfigured by 
 stains and scorches, and his hat-brim sagged 
 mournfully, as if it had borne weight never in 
 tended for such an article. One eye had a sugges 
 tion of puffiness, and altogether the leader of the 
 men of "action" looked distinctly seedy. 
 
 Landor shook his head dubiously at the sight of 
 the visitor. 
 
 "I had forgotten the People s Congress," he 
 said to himself. "How will he deal with that?" 
 
 In course of time came Ford s turn to reach the 
 President. He limped in with a shame-faced air 
 which did not accord with the attempted good-fel 
 lowship with which he extended his hand. 
 
 "Good morning, Philip " 
 
 " Mr. President, Mr. Ford, "said the executive. 
 gravely. His caller, -abashed, looked about for a 
 chair. "No, you need not sit. What I have to say 
 
 449
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 is better said and heard standing. The Peo 
 ple s Congress is still in session?" 
 
 "Yes, when I left. I don t know" 
 
 "But you do know. You know that it awaits the 
 report of your interview with me. Your report 
 must be that the congress adjourn and its dele 
 gates proceed peaceably and immediately to their 
 homes. 
 
 "I I wny should I take such a message ?" 
 
 "You must take it, and you must add that you, 
 and those who, with you, have been the extremists 
 among the delegates, realize at last your fatal 
 error: that force is a necessity in this republic." 
 
 Ford shifted his long legs nervously, and 
 plunged his hand into his pocket, whence it 
 emerged with a plug of his black tobacco. He 
 raised it to his mouth. 
 
 "You must do this at once, sir," continued the 
 President more sternly than Ford had ever heard 
 him speak. Anger convulsed his dark face, and 
 the hand that bore the tobacco fell to his side like 
 lead. 
 
 "By God, Craig !" he shouted, "I see what it is. 
 It s as I feared. You re a quitter." 
 
 "No," replied Craig, calmly. "I have just begun 
 just begun to know the truth: that power, to its 
 last particle, is duty." 
 
 "Tell the congress yourself!" blustered Ford, 
 gaining courage from the President s serenity. 
 "Tell them you have broken your pledge." 
 
 "I have not broken it, but they have broken 
 theirs to me. Mine will be fulfilled." 
 
 The lank agitator turned to go, and on the way 
 to the door flung his last defiance over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 45
 
 THE NEW CABINET 
 
 "I won t bear your message, Craig," he burst 
 forth. "You can t bulldoze me! I " 
 
 "Stop there, Ford," rang out the President s 
 voice with a tone of authority that cowed his caller 
 into silence. "I will give you one hour. If at the 
 end of that time the delegates are not dispersing, 
 I shall order your arrest." 
 
 "Arrest!" sneered Luke. "Me? You don t 
 dare to! On what charge, pray?" His insolent 
 laugh was of short life. 
 
 "On the charge of arson." 
 
 "Arson? I?" 
 
 "Yes, you. I was within twenty feet of you last 
 night when you seized a torch and cried : On to 
 Norton s ; smoke out the plutocrat ! 
 
 Ford s sallow face grew white as marble, and he 
 almost staggered against the wall. Clutching his 
 battered hat in both hands, he went slowly out 
 without another word. 
 
 This episode had scarcely faded from the day s 
 doings, when Secretary Trent brought the Presi 
 dent a telegram. He read it twice, folded it care 
 fully and placed it in an inside pocket, then turned 
 to his secretary with a smile of content. 
 
 "My cabinet is complete," he said. "The secre 
 tary of state that is to be accepts. You wished 
 to ask me something, Mr. Trent?" 
 
 "The Nortons are about to leave, and Mrs. Nor 
 ton wishes to see you." 
 
 Mrs. Norton ! Then \vhat of Helen ? Would 
 she, could she go away with last night s enigmati 
 cal words for her farewell? He could pursue the 
 thought no further. 
 
 "I will see her at once," he said to Trent. "Is 
 Mr. Norton able to travel ?"
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Physically he seems quite himself, Dr. Lewis 
 says, but he will never be able to undertake busi 
 ness cares again." 
 
 During the few moments of waiting, Philip sat 
 at his desk, his forehead resting on his upturned 
 palm, and thought moodily of the parting that was 
 so near. And as they say a drowning man s life is 
 flashed in incredibly swift but orderly panorama 
 before his mental sight, so did the great salient fea 
 tures of Craig s existence roll by in exact sequence. 
 His boyhood, his shifting for himself, his first awed 
 glimpse of Norton, his engagement in a humble 
 place, his climbing as with seven-leagued boots to 
 the heights of power, his love for Helen, his break 
 ing with the cold financial king, his air-castle s fall, 
 his long helplessness, his rise to a new strength, 
 his astounding elevation to the Presidency, his 
 struggle for a principle, his grief and shame at the 
 riot, his supreme temptation and his victory all 
 these things trooped past in the twinkling of an 
 eye. And now 
 
 "Have I been all wrong?" he murmured with 
 passionate self-questioning. "Was Bentley right? 
 Would I have benefited the world more to have 
 stood between Norton and 
 
 A door opened gently, and Mrs. Norton s sweet 
 face appeared, pale and pathetic, but full of 
 friendly light. And behind her was another. 
 
 "She Jias come, after all," Philip thought with 
 a great throb of joy. Parting? Perhaps; but that 
 might mean another meeting. Even tears are 
 sometimes lovers rainbows. 
 
 "I could not go," began Mrs. Norton, "without 
 expressing our deep gratitude, Mr. Pre 
 
 "Don t, don t, Mrs. Norton," broke in Philip 
 45 2
 
 THE NEW CABINET 
 
 vehemently, "I have borne much of late, but I am 
 human. Gratitude from you is more than I can 
 endure." 
 
 "We arc going out west," she continued with 
 out apparent notice of his words, although her 
 own sufferings had made her acute to the troubles 
 of others, "to the farm we have always kept 
 where we first met. Perhaps there " 
 
 The thought of the silent, nerveless, beclouded 
 man in another room choked her utterance and 
 she turned her head. Philip felt inexpressible pity 
 for this kindly woman, who, after all, had borne 
 the heaviest burden. He stepped to her side and 
 encircled her shoulder with a caressing arm. She 
 turned her brimming eyes to his. 
 
 "I never knew my mother," he said, "may I 
 
 The eloquent face was raised to his, and he 
 kissed the trembling lips as one kisses some sacred 
 thing. She bowed her head on his shoulder, and 
 wept softly without restraint. Thus he led her to 
 the door, and paused. Helen was close behind. 
 
 "You are going, too Helen?" he asked, in a 
 voice so low that he did not know if she had heard. 
 
 "Yes, Philip." 
 
 "I shall see you again?" 
 
 "Yes, if you wish when my duty is is ended." 
 
 He looked at her pure, beautiful profile with 
 dimmed eyes, and understood. But of a sudden, 
 with the swiftness of an alighting bird, her lips 
 brushed the hand that lay upon her mother s 
 shoulder and he felt the thrill of a kiss. 
 
 Then mother and daughter went silently down 
 the heavily carpeted stairs and were gone. 
 
 ^f. >. 2}c 5|c yf. yf. 
 
 That day the People s Congress, following the 
 453
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 advice contained in an especially earnest speech by 
 Luke Ford, adjourned sine die. The Congress of 
 the United States assembled in extraordinary ses 
 sion, and before the majority of the United Men 
 of America s delegates reached their homes, had 
 passed the embargo bill and several other measures 
 calculated to relieve the pressure upon the masses. 
 
 There were not wanting the customary cynical 
 gentlemen to assert that the Senate acquiesced in 
 all these things because its backbone had departed 
 with the retirement of John Peter Norton. How 
 ever, the popular belief and joy were so great that 
 few cared to look for motives beneath the bless 
 ings of fact. 
 
 The removal of the palsied hand of Norton from 
 the lever of his colossal financial machine caused 
 its inevitable flurry in the market. Values were 
 swept away in a day, and an enormous deprecia 
 tion of everything with which he had been con 
 nected followed most naturally. Rumor said that 
 the man who had built the fallen house of cards 
 had been ruined in the crash. At any rate, the 
 shaking down of the market resulted in ultimate 
 good, and the "Norton era" of inflation and over 
 capitalization passed away unhonored, if not 
 unsung. 
 
 President Craig s new cabinet appointments 
 were promptly confirmed by the Senate, and this 
 action was followed by the nomination of a secre 
 tary of state. At the announcement of his name 
 the country and the world applauded. He was a 
 man who had twice served the nation in its highest 
 place with the utmost honor to himself and it, and 
 who, in his semi-retirement, had come to be looked 
 upon as the wise counsellor, the unpartisan Nestor 
 
 454
 
 THE NEW CABINET 
 
 who knew how to point out, as he had known how 
 to tread, the path of truth and righteousness. 
 
 On the day following, Philip Craig resigned 
 from the Presidency of the United States. The 
 proclamation he issued to the people closed with 
 these words: 
 
 "While I feel that my brief term in an authority 
 which fell to me by chance has not been without 
 benefit to the nation, I believe that I should resign 
 my office into the keeping of a man who has twice 
 been honored by the people through their ballot- 
 box, and whom it has since honored still more in 
 his retirement. ... In my endeavors for the peo 
 ple I loved, in my battle for Weakerdom/ I have 
 made mistakes, but no error of mine was so great 
 as that committed when, for a time, I forgot that 
 I was only a man face to face with that most 
 Satanic and insidious of tempters Power." 
 
 455
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 NEATH THE EVENING STAR. 
 
 THE evening sun was painting a rosy flush 
 upon the white minarets of the Sierras, as a 
 little group of three sat upon the low veranda 
 of the plain farmhouse of a California ranch. One, 
 a large featured, dull-eyed man, was half reclining 
 in a great easy chair, staring vacantly at the far off 
 mountains whence had sprung his wealth. Once or 
 twice he nodded his head gently as if in com 
 munion with the snowy summits, but he spoke no 
 word. He lived in the silence of memory and his 
 own thoughts. 
 
 Near him sat a gray-haired, placid-faced woman 
 working some beautiful embroidery, and just be 
 yond a fair-haired girl, in the prime of loveliness, 
 was bending over a book. Only the call of belated 
 birds and the sighing of a gentle breeze disturbed 
 the silence. 
 
 "Come, John," said the older lady at length, 
 "the night air is getting chilly. You had better 
 go in." 
 
 Like a child the man allowed himself to be 
 helped to his feet, and into the house. As his 
 shuffling footsteps were lost to sound, the girl 
 threw down her book and looked dreamily into the 
 empurpled west, where fantastic clouds were build 
 ing their enchanted city. 
 
 The steady beating of hoofs, coming nearer and 
 456
 
 NEATH THE EVENING STAR 
 
 nearer, roused her from her reverie, Soon two 
 horsemen came into view and drew rein before the 
 veranda. 
 
 "A letter for yer, Miss Helen," cried the younger 
 rider, waving something white in his right hand. 
 
 "Why Muggsy," said the girl, "I didn t 
 know " 
 
 "Yes; me an Doc thought there might be some- 
 thin , so we rode over to Alario just a kind of 
 constitut nal gallop, ye know." 
 
 The elder Bayles dismounted with infinite cau 
 tion, assisted by his dutiful son, and hobbled upon 
 the veranda, consigning his "rheumatics" to vari 
 ous sorts of perdition the while. 
 
 "Miss Helen," he said, "is your mother around 
 handy? I I that is I want ter say somethin 
 to her, if she s no objection." 
 
 "Why, of course, Doc," returned Helen, smil 
 ing. "She went into the house with my father. I 
 think she ll be out presently." 
 
 "Thankee, Miss," said the old trainer, settling 
 himself stiffly in a chair, "I ll set, if ye don t mind." 
 
 While Helen was reading her letter, Mrs. Nor 
 ton came from the house, and "Doc s" opportunity 
 arrived. But he seemed ill at ease and curiously 
 abashed. At length he pulled an envelope desper 
 ately from an inside pocket and held it toward his 
 mistress. 
 
 "It s somethin we wants yer to see," he blurted. 
 "Me and Muggsy writ to New York a while ago 
 an we ve jest got the answer." 
 
 Mrs. Norton took the missive and drew from the 
 envelope a pink slip of paper. Her mild eyes 
 opened wide with astonishment as she saw its 
 import. 
 
 457
 
 ON SATAN S MOUNT 
 
 "Why a certified check, and for a large 
 amount. And made out to me?" 
 
 "Yes m that is to you, yes m." 
 
 "To you yes rn," chimed in "Muggsy," who 
 had just returned from the stables. 
 
 "But the envelope is addressed to you. I don t 
 understand." 
 
 "Well, Ma am," explained "Doc" with glowing 
 face, "it s the American Handicap stakes " 
 
 "That Mr. Norton give us," put in the younger 
 Bayles. 
 
 "An we read how Mr. Norton s money was 
 gone, so we we " 
 
 "We never had no right to the stakes anyway," 
 exclaimed "Muggsy." 
 
 "An we kep em in case he should want em 
 back," concluded "Doc," with the air of having 
 settled a grave question. 
 
 Mrs. Norton looked into the old man s face with 
 an expression that made him shift his position and 
 fumble his hat nervously. She glanced at her 
 daughter, who was still reading her letter, and 
 then turned again towards the father and son. 
 
 "You are dear, good souls, both of you," she 
 said with a radiant smile, "but really the money is 
 not needed." 
 
 "Then ye hain t lost yer money," exclaimed 
 "Doc" almost incredulously, as he took the ex 
 tended check mechanically. 
 
 "Oh, no, not in the sense you mean. Of course 
 there was a great depreciation, but we have far 
 more than we shall ever need." 
 
 "But Mr. Haven?" persisted old Bayles. 
 
 "Mr. Haven betrayed his trust and was an em 
 bezzler," she replied, "but he is a fugitive and can 
 
 458
 
 NEATH THE EVENING STAR 
 
 never return to America. Nor did he ruin us, by 
 any means." 
 
 "She ain t lost it, Muggsy," exclaimed Bayles, 
 senior, shaking his head slowly. "Ain t it too 
 bad?" 
 
 "Too bad," echoed the son, thereupon lapsing 
 into speechlessness, and as the two turned towards 
 the stables Mrs. Norton followed them with eyes 
 which shone with suspicious moisture. 
 
 The glow of sunset had faded to a dull, tremu 
 lous suggestion of color in the west, but its glory 
 was bequeathed to earth in the sparkling silver of 
 an evening star. Helen Norton looked up from 
 her letter and to the resplendent planet, her face 
 lighted by something that neither sun nor star 
 could call into being. Her mother noted the 
 beauty of the new look, and saw, too, the bit of 
 paper in her hand. 
 
 "Is it from him ?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What does he say, my dear?" 
 
 "He and his father are going to Australia." 
 
 "To Australia?" 
 
 "Yes," said the girl gently, "to study the condi 
 tions there, he says, as well as for complete change 
 of scene. He will be gone about a year." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "He asks if he may come to to me." 
 
 "Helen!" 
 
 Night spread its dusky wings over the farm 
 house and blotted out the world from the two 
 women who were gently sobbing in one another s 
 arms. But each knew that smiles were mingled 
 with the tears. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 459
 
 Will be issued September 8, 1903 
 
 A Ranch Story 
 A Reo! Ranch Girl 
 
 MISS FRANCIS PARKER 
 
 ^ The title has not been selected yet, but you may 
 depend upon it that it will be well worth your while to 
 watch for the announcement of the name. 
 
 ^ It is a mighty interesting book, and rich with the real 
 life of the 12 mile long ranches up among the Bear s 
 Paw Mountains. 
 
 ^ Miss Parker has lived her 22 years of life on her 
 father s ranches in northern Dakota, and on the Indian 
 Reservation in southern Dakota with her uncle, an Indian 
 agent. She has varied the excitement of breaking her 
 own bucking bronchos to saddle, by bringing the best 
 tutors from the east to prepare her for college. 
 
 ^Her writing has the Western dash that might be ex 
 pected of such a girl. She has written a strange romance 
 of the life she has lived. 
 
 C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING COMPANY, BOSTON
 
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 QUINCY ADAMS SAWYER, 
 
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 BLENNERHASSETT, 
 
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 HESTER BLAIR, 
 
 By William Henry Carson. 
 
 MISS PETTICOATS, 
 
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 TITO, 
 
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 "THE BEST NEW 
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 HESTER 
 
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 Petticoats 
 
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 JUNE 14, 1902. 
 
 "From the moment when Agatha 
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 MAY 22. 
 
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 THE 
 
 CLIMAX 
 
 Or, WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN 
 
 By CHARLES FBLTON PIDGIN 
 
 Author of BLENNERHASSETT and 
 QUINOY ADAMS SAWYER 
 
 Attractively Bound 
 
 Illustrated by C. H. STEPHENS 
 
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 This is not an historical novel in any sense of the word. 
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 through conquering wars, taking valuable possessions from 
 the British, Spanish and French. Everything he under 
 takes is for love of country. He is the people s idol. A 
 love adventure is of the same importance to him as an 
 affair of state, and he slights neither. 
 
 It is simply the author s fanciful idea of " what 
 might have been" if Burr had not shot Hamilton. 
 
 C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO., BOSTON
 
 A STORY OF SUNNY ITALY 
 AND OF DARK NEW YORK 
 
 TITO 
 
 By WILLIAM HENRY CARSON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "HESTER BLAIR" 
 
 In its foundation the story is a true one, telling 
 an hitherto vnrevealed romance in one of New 
 York s oldest and most exclusive families. 
 In TITO, the hero of the Novel, the author 
 has drawn a complex character with a mas 
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 on his mother s side and of American aristoc 
 racy on his father s side. THE BREADTH OF 
 "TITO" IS IN MARKED CONTRAST TO THE 
 RURAL SIMPLICITY OF MR. CARSON S 
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