Part 18 (2/2)
Already there were a dozen or more tents, most of them housing saloons, dance halls, and gamblers' layouts, and here and there a board or corrugated iron structure was under process of building. Only the three construction camps, as yet, had arrived on this portion of the work; the next camp beyond this group was fifty miles to the north.
Jerkline Jo knew, however, that before many days had pa.s.sed camps large and small would be dotted along the right of way, and that all must be supplied by some one.
She stood talking to Mr. Washburn, the head of the firm, while his freight was being stacked before the huge commissary tent, when Mr.
Tweet approached her.
”I'd like a word with you, Miss Modock, when you're at liberty,” he said politely.
”Why, I'm just loafing with Mr. Washburn now,” she said lightly, and turned away with him.
”Will you please tell me again what you did a few days back about the camp at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou?” he asked. ”Explain it all, please--just why you think the tent town will eventually be located in a different place than it is now.”
”Why, it's simple,” she told him. ”It's this way: Demarest, Spruce & Tillou have the main contract here--a hundred miles, I've heard. When a big company like that contracts to build a hundred miles of grade, they at once begin to sublet portions to smaller contractors. Some take a mile; some two miles, some five--according to the nature of the work and the respective capacities of their outfits. Understand?”
”Yes--I got that.”
”Well, it's natural, then, that the most difficult pieces--the biggest work--will be the most difficult to sublet. Consequently when the main contractors can sublet no more, they move in and get at the difficult pieces that remain on their hands.
”Now, I've seen a good bit of this line, and I've talked with the engineers. Also I know the names of most of the subcontractors who have figured on the job. I know that none of them have adequate equipment to tackle the big rock cut that will be necessary through that chain of b.u.t.tes, twelve miles to the south of here.”
She pointed to the b.u.t.tes, blue and hazy in the evening light of the desert.
”So, my friend, it follows as the night the day that Demarest, Spruce & Tillou will eventually move in with their heaviest-hitting outfit to run that cut, which certainly will be left on their hands. It follows as the night the day, again, that the leeches who always drift in to get the stiff's pay day away from them will settle near the biggest camp, if there's sufficient water.
”Down near those b.u.t.tes, where the big camp is bound to be, there's plenty of water, and before many days have pa.s.sed Ragtown in all its glory will be erected right there.
”These supplies that we're hauling now are charged to the account of Demarest, Spruce & Tillou,” she further explained. ”You see, they furnish their subs with everything they need. Now when Demarest, Spruce & Tillou move in there will be little or no freighting for us to any camp but theirs. All goods will be concentrated in their commissary then, and the subs will buy direct from them and do their own hauling to the various camps. Of course, Ragtown will have to be supplied--but Ragtown and Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's Camp Number One will be virtually the same as regards our freight terminus.”
”And how long before the main contractors will get here?” he asked, working his twisted nose from side to side as if in the hope of eventually persuading it to point dead ahead.
”That all depends on whether they have given up trying to sublet any more work or not. If they think they won't be able to load any one else up with a job, they'll be in directly--almost any day. But if they still think there's a chance to get rid of the hard pieces, they'll hold off until the matter is settled, of course.”
”Thank you,” said Mr. Tweet abruptly, and was turning briskly away when she remarked:
”I've decided that perhaps I can use you after all, if----”
”Sorry,” he interrupted, ”but I can't accept your offer, even though I appreciate it and thank you from the bottom of my heart. Truth is, I gotta get busy. I've heard there's a stage goin' out to the north to-night, and I gotta make it. By the way, did Hiram speak to you about advancin' him what pay was comin' to him?”
Jo's eyes narrowed. ”No,” she said coldly, ”he didn't mention such a matter.”
Twitter-or-Tweet came back to her. ”Listen,” he said, ”you owe him about twenty bucks. I want it. I'll need it. You slip it to Hiram, and I'll borrow it off o' him. You see----”
”Why, I'll do nothing of the sort!” she cried vehemently. ”Do I look like a sucker to you, Mr. Tweet?”
”Oh, dear, dear, dear!” he cried. ”You don't understand. I'm gonta swing somethin' big. I need that and what Hiram's already got to float me along till I can hit the ball. For Heaven's sake, put a little confidence in me, ma'am, can't you? I'm gonta send the Gentle Wild Cat to you. He'll tell you. He trusts me.”
”He trusts everybody,” she remarked evenly. ”Besides,” she added, ”you seem to forget, too, that you owe me for your railroad fare down here.”
”Oh, that! Why, I'll pay you that in no time now. But wait--I'll unload freight in Hiram's place, and send him to you.”
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