Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 114: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

084 Maybe you ain’t heard of Paddy MacAlis- | ter, an’ his timber, Mr. Blodgett?” “What about it?” Blodgett’s ye nar- rowed perceptibly. | “Why, this here MacAlister, he’s got three-quarters jest acrost the river from here that’s mighty fine timber, so they say. He’s be’n workin’ it, kind of nursin’ it along fer better’n twenty year. The way the land lays through here, a ten-foot dam on the north line of section ten would put his land about six foot under water. If you’d put in yer dam above, now—say—” ‘““ Neely ”—Blodgett’s voice held a note of flinty hardness—“ TI didn’t come up here to ask you, but to tell you what to do. As a matter of fact, I have had competent ad- vice upon the location of this dam. As you may, or may not, know, Samuel King has had much experience in handling logs on the streams of northern Minnesota. It was more to secure his services in the matter of locating this dam than in running Number Nine that I hired him. His judgment is that the dam should be located on the north line of section ten, and that judgment was cor- roborated by the engineers who ran the levels. ‘“‘ Tf there are small property holders who will be damaged by the building of the dam they have their recourse in the courts. I “shall, of course, be required to put up bonds of a sufficient amount to cover such dam- age. The amount of such loss to small property holders will be fairly determined by disinterested appraisers, and I stand ready to abide by their decision.” ‘‘ But the appraisers won’t figger in noth- in’ but merchantable timber. That’s all right in some cases, but not this one. This here MacAlister, he’s farmin’ timber, not skinnin’ the land, but farmin’ it. He’s strip loggin’ an’ he’s got young stuff comin’ on that’s worth as much as his big stuff, an’ besides that he’s worked his standing stuff till it’s a better stand to-day than it was when he took holt of it. Floodin’ his land will kill all that young stuff, an’ the ap- praisers won’t take no account of it. It ain’t right, Mr. Bloodgett. An’ I’m won- derin’ if MacAlister’s be’n notified of this here committee meetin’ so he kin be there an’ give his side of it?” ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. > The blood had flooded Blodgett’s face and receded, leaving it livid with rage. ““ Neely!” he cried. “ You forget your- self! Do you presume to intimate to my face that I have any ulterior motive in the placing of this dam? To dictate business ethics to me?” Neely rose to his feet and faced his em- ployer. ““T don’t know nothin’ about what kind of motors you got or ain’t got—an’ I don’t give a damn! But I ain’t fergittin’ myself none whatever. I’m rememberin’ myself so good that I’m histin’ my turkey right here an’? now. You kin git some one’else to run yer camp, Blodgett. “But before I go, I’m goin’ to tell you jest what I think of you. You’re a damned dirty crook—that’s what you be! An’ the only reason you want that dam to go in is so’s you kin steal MacAlister’s timber. You ain’t smart enough to do it alone so you hired Sam King to tell you how. You know’d Sam was the man to go to when you had a dirty job to do. Others has used him before, an’ you birds pass a good thing along among you. “You've tried to buy MacAlister’s tim- ber, an’ when you seen you couldn't, you figger on stealin’ it. That’s what it amounts to—stealin’ it! You know an’ T know all about appraisers. I’ve saw quite a bit of appraisin’ done, an’ J ain’t never heard a millionaire loggin’ outfit kick yet on their findin’s. It’s a dirty game, Blodgett, an’ the hell of it is that it works. You rich loggers greasin’ witnesses, an’ legislators, an’ appraisers, an’ any one else that you have to, an’ then sailin’ in an’ bustin’ the little fellers. An’ you figger on squarin’ it with God by pullin’ a long face, an’ givin’ honest men hell fer cussin’, an’ forkin’ over a big slice of yer boodle to the church. “That’s you, Blodgett—a damned hypo- crite! An’ if you ain’t in hell when I git there, it “ll be ’cause you ain’t dead yet.” Neely turned to the desk in the corner of the room, and seating himself, drew out a checkbook. “Tl jest write out a check fer my time, Blodgett,” he said. ‘‘ An’ then I'll be go- in’.” He glanced over at Leonard, who had been a silent listener to all that had been (EO) oO comicbooks