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Gordon Keith written by Thomas Nelson Page

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Mr. Wickersham conceived a great regard for General Keith, not unmingled
with a certain contempt for his inability to avail himself of the new
conditions. "Fine old fellow," he said to his friends. "No more
business-sense than a child. If he had he would go in with us and make
money for himself instead of telling us how to make it." He did not know
that General Keith would not have "gone in" with him in the plan he had
carried through that legislature to save his life. But he honored the
old fellow all the more. He had stood up for the General against Mrs.
Wickersham, who hated all Keiths on Ferdy's account. The old General,
who was as oblivious of this as a child, was always sending Mrs.
Wickersham his regards.

"Perhaps, she might like to come down and see the place?" he suggested.
"It is not what it used to be, but we can make her comfortable." His
glance as it swept about him was full of affection.

Mr. Wickersham said he feared that Mrs. Wickersham's health would not
permit her to come South.

"This is the very region for her," said the General. "There is a fine
health-resort in the mountains, a short distance from us. I have been
there, and it is in charge of an old friend of mine, Dr. Balsam, one of
the best doctors in the State. He was my regimental surgeon. I can
recommend him. Bring her down, and let us see what we can do for her."

Mr. Wickersham thanked him with a smile. Time had been when Mrs.
Wickersham had been content with small health-resorts. But that time was
past. He did not tell General Keith that Mrs. Wickersham, remembering
the fight between her son and Gordon, had consented to his buying the
place from a not very noble motive, and vowed that she would never set
her foot on it so long as a Keith remained there. He only assured the
General that he would convey his invitation.

Mr. Wickersham's real interest, however, lay in the mountains to the
westward. And General Keith gave him some valuable hints as to the
deposits lying in the Ridge and the mountains beyond the Ridge.

"I will give you letters to the leading men in that region," he said.
"The two most influential men up there are Dr. Balsam and Squire Rawson.
They have, like Abraham and Lot, about divided up the country."

Mr. Wickersham's eyes glistened. He thanked him, and said that he might
call on him.

Once there came near being a clash between Mr. Wickersham and General
Keith. When Mr. Wickersham mentioned that he had invited a number of
members of the legislature--"gentlemen interested in the development of
the resources of the State"--to meet him, the General's face changed.
There was a little tilting of the nose and a slight quivering of the
nostrils. A moment later he spoke.

"I will have everything in readiness for your--f--for your guests; but I
must ask you to excuse me from meeting them."

Mr. Wickersham turned to him in blank amazement.

"Why, General?"

The expression on the old gentleman's face answered him. He knew that at
a word he should lose his agent, and he had use for him. He had plans
that were far-reaching, and the General could be of great service
to him.

When the statesmen arrived, everything on the place was in order; they
were duly met at the station, and were welcomed at the house by the
owner. Everything for their entertainment was prepared. Even the fresh
mint was in the tankard on the old sideboard. Only the one who had made
these preparations was absent.

Just before the vehicles were to return from the railway, General Keith
walked into the room where Mr. Wickersham was lounging. He was booted
and spurred for riding.

"Everything is in order for your guests, sir. Richard will see that they
are looked after. These are the keys. Richard knows them all, and is
entirely reliable. I will ask you to excuse me till--for a day or two."

Mr. Wickersham had been revolving in his mind what he should say to the
old gentleman. He had about decided to speak very plainly to him on the
folly of such narrowness. Something, however, in the General's air again
deterred him: a thinning of the nostril; an unwonted firmness of the
mouth. A sudden increase in the resemblance to the man-in-armor over the
mantel struck him--a mingled pride and gravity. It removed him a hundred
years from the present.

The keen-eyed capitalist liked the General, and in a way honored him
greatly. His old-fashioned ideas entertained him. So what he said was
said kindly. He regretted that the General could not stay; he "would
have liked him to know his friends."

"They are not such bad fellows, after all. Why, one of them is a
preacher," he said jocularly as he walked to the door, "and a very
bright fellow. J. Quincy Plume is regarded as a man of great ability."

"Yes, sir; I have heard of him. His doctrine is from the 'Wicked Bible';
he omits the 'not.' Good morning." And General Keith bowed himself out.

When the guests arrived, Mr. Wickersham admitted to himself that they
were a strange lot of "assorted statesmen." He was rather relieved that
the General had not remained. When he looked about the table that
evening, after the juleps were handed around and the champagne had
followed, he was still more glad. The set of old Richard's head and the
tilt of his nose were enough to face. An old and pampered hound in the
presence of a pack of puppies could not have been more disdainful.

The preacher he had mentioned, Mr. J. Quincy Plume, was one of the
youngest members of the party and one of the most striking--certainly
one of the most convivial and least abashed. Mr. Plume had, to use his
own expression, "plucked a feather from many wings, and bathed his
glistening pinions in the iridescent light of many orbs." He had been
"something of a doctor"; then had become a preacher--to quote him again,
"not exactly of the gospel as it was understood by mossbacked
theologians, of 'a creed outworn,'" but rather the "gospel of the new
dispensation, of the new brotherhood--the gospel of liberty, equality,
fraternity." Now he had found his true vocation, that of statesmanship,
where he could practise what he had preached; could "bask in the light
of the effulgent sun of progress, and, shod with the sandals of Mercury,
soar into a higher empyrean than he had yet attained." All of which,
being translated, meant that Mr. Plume, having failed in several
professions, was bent now on elevating himself by the votes of the
ignorant followers whom he was cajoling into taking him as a leader.

Mr. Wickersham had had some dealing with him and had found him capable
and ready for any job. When he had been in the house an hour Mr.
Wickersham was delighted with him, and mentally decided to secure him
for his agent. When he had been there a day Mr. Wickersham mentally
questioned whether he had not better drop him out of his schemes
altogether.

One curious thing was that each guest secretly warned him against all
the others.

The prices were much higher than Mr. Wickersham had expected. But they
were subject to scaling.

"Well, Richard, what do you think of the gentlemen?" asked Mr.
Wickersham of the old servant, much amused at his disdain.

"What gent'mens?"

"Why, our guests." He used the possessive that the General used.

"Does you call dem 'gent'mens?'" demanded the old servant, fixing his
eyes on him.

"Well, no; I don't think I do--all of them."

"Nor, suh; dee ain't gent'mens; dee's scalawags!" said Richard, with
contempt. "I been livin' heah 'bout sixty years, I reckon, an' I never
seen nobody like dem eat at de table an' sleep in de beds in dis
house befo'."

When the statesmen were gone and General Keith had returned, old Richard
gave Mr. Wickersham an exhibition of the manner in which a gentleman
should be treated.



CHAPTER III

THE ENGINEER AND THE SQUIRE

Marius amid the ruins of Carthage is not an inspiring figure to us while
we are young; it is Marius riding up the Via Sacra at the head of his
resounding legions that then dazzles us. But as we grow older we see how
much greater he was when, seated amid the ruins, he sent his scornful
message to Rome. So, Gordon Keith, when a boy, thought being a gentleman
a very easy and commonplace thing. He had known gentlemen all his
life--had been bred among them. It was only later on, after he got out
into the world, that he saw how fine and noble that old man was, sitting
unmoved amid the wreck not only of his life and fortunes, but of
his world.

General Keith was unable to raise even the small sum necessary to send
the boy to college, but among the debris of the old home still remained
the relics of a once choice library, and General Keith became himself
his son's instructor. It was a very irregular system of study, but the
boy, without knowing it, was browsing in those pastures that remain ever
fresh and green. There was nothing that related to science in any form.

"I know no more of science, sir, than an Indian," the General used to
say. "The only sciences I ever thought I knew were politics and war, and
I have failed in both."

He knew very little of the world--at least, of the modern world. Once,
at table, Gordon was wishing that they had money.

"My son," said his father, quietly, "there are some things that
gentlemen never discuss at table. Money is one of them." Such were his
old-fashioned views.

It was fortunate for his son, then, that there came to the neighborhood
about this time a small engineering party, sent down by Mr. Wickersham
to make a preliminary survey for a railroad line up into the Ridge
country above General Keith's home. The young engineer, Mr. Grinnell
Rhodes, brought a letter to General Keith from Mr. Wickersham. He had
sent his son down with the young man, and he asked that the General
would look after him a little and would render Mr. Rhodes any assistance
in his power. The tall young engineer, with his clear eyes, pleasant
voice, and quick ways, immediately ingratiated himself with both General
Keith and Gordon. The sight of the instruments and, much more, the
appearance of the young "chief," his knowledge of the world, and his
dazzling authority as, clad in corduroy and buttoned in high yellow
gaiters, he day after day strode forth with his little party and ran his
lines, sending with a wave of his hand his rodmen to right or left
across deep ravines and over eminences, awakened new ambitions in Gordon
Keith's soul. The talk of building great bridges, of spanning mighty
chasms, and of tunnelling mountains inspired the boy. What was Newton
making his calculations from which to deduce his fundamental laws, or
Galileo watching the stars from his Florentine tower? This young captain
was Archimedes and Euclid, Newton and Galileo, all in one. He made
them live.

It was a new world for Gordon. He suddenly awoke.

Both the engineer and Gordon could well have spared one of the
engineer's assistants. Ferdy Wickersham had fulfilled the promise of his
boyhood, and would have been very handsome but for an expression about
the dark eyes which raised a question. He was popular with girls, but
made few friends among men, and he and Mr. Rhodes had already clashed.
Rhodes gave some order which Ferdy refused to obey. Rhodes turned on
him a cold blue eye. "What did you say?"

"I guess this is my father's party; he's paying the freight, and I guess
I am his son."

"I guess it's my party, and you'll do what I say or go home," said Mr.
Rhodes, coldly. "Your father has no 'son' in this party. I have a
rodman. Unless you are sick, you do your part of the work."

Ferdy submitted for reasons of his own; but his eyes lowered, and he did
not forget Mr. Rhodes.

The two youngsters soon fell out. Ferdy began to give orders about the
place, quite as if he were the master. The General cautioned Gordon not
to mind what he said. "He has been spoiled a little; but don't mind him.
An only child is at a great disadvantage." He spoke as if Gordon were
one of a dozen children.

But Ferdy Wickersham misunderstood the other's concession. He resented
the growing intimacy between Rhodes and Gordon. He had discovered that
Gordon was most sensitive about the old plantation, and he used his
knowledge. And when Mr. Rhodes interposed it only gave the sport of
teasing Gordon a new point.

One morning, when the three were together, Ferdy began, what he probably
meant for banter, to laugh at Gordon for bragging about his plantation.

"You ought to have heard him, Mr. Rhodes, how he used to blow about it."

"I did not blow about it," said Gordon, flushing.

Rhodes, without looking up, moved in his seat uneasily.

"Ferdy, shut up--you bother me. I am working."

But Ferdy did not heed either this warning or the look on Gordon's face.
His game had now a double zest: he could sting Gordon and worry Rhodes.

"I don't see why my old man was such a fool as to want such a dinged
lonesome old place for, anyhow," he said, with a little laugh. "I am
going to give it away when I get it."

Gordon's face whitened and flamed again, and his eyes began to snap.

"Then it's the only thing you ever would give away," said Mr. Rhodes,
pointedly, without raising his eyes from his work.

Gordon took heart. "Why did you come down here if you feel that way
about it?"

"Because my old man offered me five thousand if I'd come. You didn't
think I'd come to this blanked old place for nothin', did you? Not
much, sonny."

"Not if he knew you," Said Mr. Rhodes, looking across at him. "If he
knew you, he'd know you never did anything for nothing, Ferdy."

Ferdy flushed. "I guess I do it about as often as you do. I guess you
struck my governor for a pretty big pile."

Mr. Rhodes's face hardened, and he fixed his eyes on him. "If I do, I
work for it honestly. I don't make an agreement to work, and then play
'old soldier' on him."

"I guess you would if you didn't have to work."

"Well, I wouldn't," said Mr. Rhodes, firmly, "and I don't want to hear
any more about it. If you won't work, then I want you to let me work."

Ferdy growled something under his breath about guessing that Mr. Rhodes
was "working to get Miss Harriet Creamer and her pile"; but if Mr.
Rhodes heard him he took no notice of it, and Ferdy turned back to
the boy.

Meantime, Gordon had been calculating. Five thousand dollars! Why, it
was a fortune! It would have relieved his father, and maybe have saved
the place. In his amazement he almost forgot his anger with the boy who
could speak of such a sum so lightly.

Ferdy gave him a keen glance. "What are you so huffy about, Keith?" he
demanded. "I don't see that it's anything to you what I say about the
place. You don't own it. I guess a man has a right to say what he
chooses of his own."

Gordon wheeled on him with blazing eyes, then turned around and walked
abruptly away. He could scarcely keep back his tears. The other boy
watched him nonchalantly, and then turned to Mr. Rhodes, who was
glowering over his papers. "I'll take him down a point or two. He's
always blowing about his blamed old place as if he still owned it. He's
worse than the old man, who is always blowing about 'before the war' and
his grandfather and his old pictures. I can buy better ancestors on
Broadway for twenty dollars."

Mr. Rhodes gathered up his papers and rose to his feet.

"You could not make yourself as good a descendant for a million," he
said, fastening his eye grimly on Ferdy.

"Oh, couldn't I? Well, I guess I could. I guess I am about as good as he
is, or you either."

"Well, you can leave me out of the case," said Mr. Rhodes, sharply. "I
will tell you that you are not as good as he, for he would never have
said to you what you have said to him if your positions had been
reversed."

"I don't understand you."

"I don't expect you do," said Mr. Rhodes. He stalked away. "I can't
stand that boy. He makes me sick," he said to himself. "If I hadn't
promised his governor to make him stick, I would shake him."

Ferdy was still smarting under Mr. Rhodes's biting sarcasm when the
three came together again. He meant to be even with Rhodes, and he
watched his opportunity.

Rhodes was a connection of the Wentworths, and had been helped at
college by Norman's father, which Ferdy knew. One of the handsomest
girls in their set, Miss Louise Caldwell, was a cousin of Rhodes, and
Norman was in love with her. Ferdy, who could never see any one
succeeding without wishing to supplant him, had of late begun to fancy
himself in love with her also, but Mr. Rhodes, he knew, was Norman's
friend. He also knew that Norman was Mr. Rhodes's friend in a little
affair which Mr. Rhodes was having with one of the leading belles of the
town, Miss Harriet Creamer, the daughter of Nicholas Creamer of Creamer,
Crustback & Company.

Ferdy had received that day a letter from his mother which stated that
Louise Caldwell's mother was making a set at Norman for her daughter.
Ferdy's jealousy was set on edge, and he now began to talk about Norman.
Rhodes sniffed at the sneering mention of his name, and Gordon, whose
face still wore a surly look, pricked up his ears.

"You need not always be cracking Norman up," said Wickersham to Rhodes.
"You would not be if I were to tell you what I know about him. He is no
better than anybody else."

"Oh, he is better than some, Ferdy," said Mr. Rhodes. Gordon gave an
appreciative grunt which drew Ferdy's eyes on him.

"You think so too, Keith, I suppose?" he said. "Well, you needn't. You
need not be claiming to be such a friend of his. He is not so much of a
friend of yours, I can tell you. I have heard him say as many mean
things about you as any one."

It was Gordon's opportunity. He had been waiting for one.

"I don't believe it. I believe it's a lie," he declared, his face
whitening as he gathered himself together. His eyes, which had been
burning, had suddenly begun to blaze.

Mr. Rhodes looked up. He said nothing, but his eyes began to sparkle.

"You're a liar yourself," retorted Wickersham, turning red.

Gordon reached for him. "Take it back!" At the same moment Rhodes sprang
and caught him, but not quite in time. The tip of Gordon's fingers as he
slapped at Ferdy just reached the latter's cheek and left a red
mark there.

"Take it back," he said again between his teeth as Rhodes flung his arm
around him.

For answer Ferdy landed a straight blow in his face, making his nose
bleed and his head ring.

"Take that!"

Gordon struggled to get free, but in vain. Rhodes with one arm swept
Wickersham back. With the other he held Gordon in an iron grip. "Keep
off, or I will let him go," he said.

The boy ceased writhing, and looked up into the young man's face. "You
had just as well let me go. I am going to whip him. He has told a lie on
my friend, who saved my life. And he's hit me. Let me go." He began
to whimper.

"Now, look here, boys," said Rhodes; "you have got to stop right here
and make up. I won't have this fighting."

"Let him go. I can whip him," said Ferdy, squaring himself, and adding
an epithet.

Gordon was standing quite still. "I am going to fight him," he said,
"and whip him. If he whips me, I am going to fight him again until I do
whip him."

Mr. Rhodes's face wore a puzzled expression. He looked down at the
sturdy face with its steady eyes, tightly gripped mouth, and chin which
had suddenly grown squarer.

"If I let you go will you promise not to fight?"

"I will promise not to fight him here if he will come out behind the
barn," said Gordon. "But if he don't, I'm going to fight him here. I am
going to fight him and I am going to whip him."

Mr. Rhodes considered. "If I go out there with you and let you have two
rounds, will you make up and agree never to refer to the subject again?"

"Yes," said Wickersham.

"If I whip him," said Gordon.

"Come along with me. I will let you two boys try each other's mettle for
two rounds, but, remember, you have got to stop when I call time."

So they came to a secluded spot, where the two boys took off their
coats.

"Come, you fellows had better make up now," said Mr. Rhodes, standing
above them good-humored and kindly.

"I don't see what we are fighting about," said Ferdy.

"Take back what you said about Norman," demanded Gordon.

"There is nothing to take back," declared Ferdy.

"Then take that!" said Gordon, stepping forward and tapping him in the
mouth with the back of his hand.

He had not expected the other boy to be so quick. Before he could put
himself on guard, Ferdy had fired away, and catching him right in the
eye, he sent him staggering back. He was up again in a second, however,
and the next moment was at his opponent like a tiger. The rush was as
unlooked for on Wickersham's part as Wickersham's blow had been by
Gordon, and after a moment the lessons of Mike Doherty began to tell,
and Gordon was ducking his head and dodging Wickersham's blows; and he
began to drive him backward.

"By Jove! he knows his business," said Rhodes to himself.

Just then he showed that he knew his business, for, swinging out first
with his right, he brought in the cut which was Mr. Doherty's _chef
d'oeuvre_, and catching Wickersham under the chin, he sent him flat on
his back on the ground.

Mr. Rhodes called time and picked him up.

"Come, now, that's enough," he said.

Gordon wiped the blood from his face.

"He has got to take back what he said about Norman, or I have another
round."

"You had better take it back, Ferdy. You began it," said the umpire.

"I didn't begin it. It's a lie!"

"You did," said Mr. Rhodes, coldly. He turned to Gordon. "You have one
more round."

"I take it back," growled Ferdy.

Just then there was a step on the grass, and General Keith stood beside
them. His face was very grave as he chided the boys for fighting; but
there was a gleam in his eyes that showed Mr. Rhodes and possibly the
two combatants that he was not wholly displeased. At his instance and
Mr. Rhodes's, the two boys shook hands and promised not to open the
matter again.

As Wickersham continued to shirk the work of rodman, Rhodes took Gordon
in his party, instructed him in the use of the instruments, and inspired
him with enthusiasm for the work, none the less eager because he
contrasted him with Ferdy. Rhodes knew what General Keith's name was
worth, and he thought his son being of his party would be no
hindrance to him.

The trouble came when he proposed to the General to pay Gordon for his
work.

"He is worth no salary at present, sir," said the General. "I shall be
delighted to have him go with you, and your instruction will more than
compensate us."

The matter was finally settled by Rhodes declining positively to take
Gordon except on his own terms. He needed an axeman and would pay him as
such. He could not take him at all unless he were under his authority.

Mr. Rhodes was not mistaken. General Keith's name was one to conjure
with. Squire Rawson was the principal man in all the Ridge region, and
he had, as Rhodes knew, put himself on record as unalterably opposed to
a railroad. He was a large, heavy man, deep-chested and big-limbed, with
grizzled hair and beard, a mouth closer drawn than might have been
expected in one with his surroundings, and eyes that were small and
deep-set, but very keen. His two-storied white house, with wings and
portico, though not large, was more pretentious than most of those in
the section, and his whitewashed buildings, nestled amid the fruit-trees
on a green hill looking up the valley to the Gap, made quite a
settlement. He was a man of considerable property and also of great
influence, and in the Ridge region, as elsewhere, wealth is a basis of
position and influence. The difference is one of degree. The evidences
of wealth in the Ridge country were land and cattle, and these Squire
Rawson had in abundance. He was esteemed the best judge of cattle in all
that region.

Consistency is a jewel; but there are regions where Hospitality is
reckoned before Consistency, and as soon as the old squire learned that
General Keith's son was with the surveying party, even though it was, to
use a common phrase, "comin' interferin'" with that country, he rode
over to their camp and invited Gordon and his "friends" to be his guests
as long as they should remain in that neighborhood.

"I don't want you to think, young man," he said to Rhodes, "that I'm
goin' to agree to your dod-rotted road comin' through any land of mine,
killin' my cattle; but I'll give you a bed and somethin' to eat."

Rhodes felt that he had gained a victory; Gordon was doubtful.

Though the squire never failed to remind the young engineer that the
latter was a Yankee, and as such the natural and necessary enemy of the
South, he and Rhodes became great friends, and the squire's hospitable
roof remained the headquarters of the engineering party much longer than
there was any necessity for its being so.

The squire's family consisted of his wife, a kindly, bustling little old
dame, who managed everything and everybody, including the squire, with a
single exception. This was her granddaughter, Euphronia Tripper, a plump
and fresh young girl with light hair, a fair skin, and bright
eyes. The squire laid down the law to those about him, but Mrs.
Rawson--"Elizy"-laid down the law for him. This the old fellow was ready
enough to admit. Sometimes he had a comical gleam in his deep eyes when
he turned them on his guests as he rose at her call of "Adam, I
want you."