"Herrick," he said, not unkindly, "this is the second time this summer the mill has had to close early on account of that engine.
We have supplied you with everything you asked for.If you can't do it, we shall have to get a man who can.""But I had---" began the man once more.
"I ask every man to succeed in what I give him to do," interrupted Thorpe."If he has a headache, he must brace up or quit.If his Babbit doesn't act just right he must doctor it up; or get some more, even if he has to steal it.If he has hard luck, he must sit up nights to better it.It's none of my concern how hard or how easy a time a man has in doing what I tell him to.I EXPECT HIM TO DO IT.
If I have to do all a man's thinking for him, I may as well hire Swedes and be done with it.I have too many details to attend to already without bothering about excuses."The man stood puzzling over this logic.
"I ain't got any other job," he ventured.
"You can go to piling on the docks," replied Thorpe, "if you want to."Thorpe was thus explicit because he rather liked Herrick.It was hard for him to discharge the man peremptorily, and he proved the need of justifying himself in his own eyes.
Now he sat back idly in the clean painted little room with the big square desk and the three chairs.Through the door he could see Collins, perched on a high stool before the shelf-like desk.From the open window came the clear, musical note of the circular saw, the fresh aromatic smell of new lumber, the bracing air from Superior sparkling in the offing.He felt tired.In rare moments such as these, when the muscles of his striving relaxed, his mind turned to the past.Old sorrows rose before him and looked at him with their sad eyes; the sorrows that had helped to make him what he was.He wondered where his sister was.She would be twenty-two years old now.A tenderness, haunting, tearful, invaded his heart.
He suffered.At such moments the hard shell of his rough woods life seemed to rend apart.He longed with a great longing for sympathy, for love, for the softer influences that cradle even warriors between the clangors of the battles.
The outer door, beyond the cage behind which Collins and his shelf desk were placed, flew open.Thorpe heard a brief greeting, and Wallace Carpenter stood before him.
"Why, Wallace, I didn't know you were coming!" began Thorpe, and stopped.The boy, usually so fresh and happily buoyant, looked ten years older.Wrinkles had gathered between his eyes."Why, what's the matter?" cried Thorpe.
He rose swiftly and shut the door into the outer office.Wallace seated himself mechanically.
"Everything! everything!" he said in despair."I've been a fool!
I've been blind!"
So bitter was his tone that Thorpe was startled.The lumberman sat down on the other side of the desk.
"That'll do, Wallace," he said sharply."Tell me briefly what is the matter.""I've been speculating!" burst out the boy.
"Ah!" said his partner.
"At first I bought only dividend-paying stocks outright.Then Ibought for a rise, but still outright.Then I got in with a fellow who claimed to know all about it.I bought on a margin.There came a slump.I met the margins because I am sure there will be a rally, but now all my fortune is in the thing.I'm going to be penniless.
I'll lose it all."
"Ah!" said Thorpe.
"And the name of Carpenter is so old-established, so honorable!"cried the unhappy boy, "and my sister!"
"Easy!" warned Thorpe."Being penniless isn't the worst thing that can happen to a man.""No; but I am in debt," went on the boy more calmly."I have given notes.When they come due, I'm a goner.""How much?" asked Thorpe laconically.
"Thirty thousand dollars."
"Well, you have that amount in this firm.""What do you mean?"
"If you want it, you can have it."
Wallace considered a moment.
"That would leave me without a cent," he replied.
"But it would save your commercial honor.""Harry," cried Wallace suddenly, "couldn't this firm go on my note for thirty thousand more? Its credit is good, and that amount would save my margins.""You are partner," replied Thorpe, "your signature is as good as mine in this firm.""But you know I wouldn't do it without your consent," replied Wallace reproachfully."Oh, Harry!" cried the boy, "when you needed the amount, I let you have it!"Thorpe smiled.
"You know you can have it, if it's to be had, Wallace.I wasn't hesitating on that account.I was merely trying to figure out where we can raise such a sum as sixty thousand dollars.We haven't got it.""But you'll never have to pay it," assured Wallace eagerly."If Ican save my margins, I'll be all right."
"A man has to figure on paying whatever he puts his signature to,"asserted Thorpe."I can give you our note payable at the end of a year.Then I'll hustle in enough timber to make up the amount.It means we don't get our railroad, that's all.""I knew you'd help me out.Now it's all right," said Wallace, with a relieved air.
Thorpe shook his head.He was already trying to figure how to increase his cut to thirty million feet.
"I'll do it," he muttered to himself, after Wallace had gone out to visit the mill."I've been demanding success of others for a good many years; now I'll demand it of myself."
