HEN Mr. Ackerman, following the hint received from Garwood, called at the office of Clancy Brothers, his reception was nothing short of frosty.
John Clancy was alone, and he regarded his visitor from beneath a lowering brow.
“Now, here's what I want to know about,” said he. “How does it come that Kent gets them limits at Wind River? We tendered for them ourselves.”
“Likely his tender was higher,” said Mr. Ackerman with assumed carelessness.
“An' what's that got to do wid it?” demanded Clancy, who appeared to find this explanation inadequate. “Don't we give up strong to th' campaign fund? Neither young Kent nor his father ever gave a cent to it, and their politics is the other way. It's a raw deal we got, an' ye can say that we'll remember it. If them limits had gone to one of our own people we'd have said nawthin', for we could have fixed it wid him or he'd a had to fix it wid us. But th' way it is we're sore, an' we make no bones about sayin' so. Where's his pull, that's what we want to know? An' if it's come to this, that a young felly whose politics is agin ye an' who don't give up to th' fund can buy limits ahead of us, why, then, we're through an' be damned to ye! An' there's others who thinks the same way.”
This unusually long and evidently heartfelt speech of Clancy's indicated a dissatisfaction which Mr. Ackerman, who held confidential relations with certain members of a thoroughly rotten and graft-ridden administration, could not afford to ignore.
“Oh, that's nonsense, Clancy,” said Ackerman. “There was a reason why Kent got the limits and we'll see that you get something else.”
“We want what we go after, an' we don't have to take what's handed to us,” retorted Clancy unappeased. “See now, Ackerman, we know a thing or two. Here's Kent been makin' up to ould Garwood's girl. Garwood works his pull, an' th' limits goes to Kent. I have it from the inside that Garwood got them for him. Now, I'm not settin' our pull agin Garwood's—not by no manes—but we will not be used by you to double-cross him. We want no trouble wid Garwood.”
“What do you mean?” Ackerman queried.
“I mane this: You tip us off to make a new contract wid Kent bekase the railway will raise the rates on boards. Ye don't do that for love of us, nor yet for a rake-off, for ye asked for none. So ye do it to hit Kent. Then he tenders for timber limits, an' Garwood, bekase the young man is keepin' company wid his daughter, sees he gets them. You an' Garwood do be thick together, an' it's strange you're knockin' his son-in-law-to-be. Me an' Finn will have no more to do wid it.”
Mr. Ackerman chuckled at Clancy's very natural mistake. “If you think Garwood is a friend of Kent's you're wrong.”
“Show me,” said Clancy.
“There's nothing now between Garwood's daughter and Kent,” responded Ackerman. “If Garwood had cared to use his influence for him the Peninsular would not have raised the rate on lumber. That's obvious enough, I should think.”
“I'm talkin' about them limits,” said Clancy obstinately.
“Well, admitting that Garwood is responsible for that, he had his reasons other than the one you mentioned. Kent has sunk a lot of money in that timber. He may not get it out again.”
“Ye mane that the limits was onloaded onto him to tie up his cash resources?” said Clancy, comprehending.
“I didn't say so,” said Mr. Ackerman, smiling sweetly, “but his business is involved already, and if anything unforeseen should occur he might smash.”
“An' somebody might buy him in,” Clancy commented with an appreciative grin. “I wish ye luck, but what do we get in place of our tender that was turned down?”
“Let me know what you want and I'll do my best for you,” Ackerman promised. “Now, I understand you have some timber near Kent's Wind River limits?”
“Buttin' onto 'em at one line,” Clancy replied. “That's why we tendered—to round out our holdin'.”
“Are you cutting it this winter?”
“We are.”
“Yourselves?”
“We jobbed it out.”
“That's too bad,” said Mr. Ackerman in disappointment. “I suppose the jobber is a good man?”
“A good man!” echoed John Clancy. “Is Rough Shan McCane a good man? If there's a worse one anywheres I never seen him.”
“Then why did you give him the stuff to cut?”
“Bekase he'll put in the logs. He can drive a crew, drunk or sober.”
“I thought liquor wasn't allowed in the camps?”
“No more it is—in most.”
“I suppose,” said Mr. Ackerman casually, “that if whiskey got into Kent's camp his work would suffer?”
John Clancy eyed him keenly. “Two an' two makes four,” he said oracularly. “What are ye drivin' at? Put it in plain words.”