Burning Daylight by Jack London

supply, I’d be making thousands and thousands of cords of

firewood–making something where nothing was before. And

everybody who ever crossed on the ferries would look up at these

forested hills and be made glad. Who was made glad by your

adding four dollars a ton to Rock Wells?”

It was Daylight’s turn to be silent for a time while she waited

an answer.

“Would you rather I did things like that?” he asked at last.

“It would be better for the world, and better for you,” she

answered noncommittally.

CHAPTER XVI

All week every one in the office knew that something new and big

was afoot in Daylight’s mind. Beyond some deals of no

importance, he had not been interested in anything for several

months. But now he went about in an almost unbroken brown study,

made unexpected and lengthy trips across the bay to Oakland, or

sat at his desk silent and motionless for hours. He seemed

particularly happy with what occupied his mind. At times men

came in and conferred with him–and with new faces and differing

in type from those that usually came to see him.

On Sunday Dede learned all about it. “I’ve been thinking a lot

of our talk,” he began, “and I’ve got an idea I’d like to give it

a flutter. And I’ve got a proposition to make your hair stand

up. It’s what you call legitimate, and at the same time it’s the

gosh-dangdest gamble a man ever went into. How about planting

minutes wholesale, and making two minutes grow where one minute

grew before? Oh, yes, and planting a few trees, too–say several

million of them. You remember the quarry I made believe I was

looking at? Well, I’m going to buy it. I’m going to buy these

hills, too, clear from here around to Berkeley and down the other

way to San Leandro. I own a lot of them already, for that

matter. But mum is the word. I’ll be buying a long time to come

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before anything much is guessed about it, and I don’t want the

market to jump up out of sight. You see that hill over there.

It’s my hill running clear down its slopes through Piedmont and

halfway along those rolling hills into Oakland. And it’s nothing

to all the things I’m going to buy.”

He paused triumphantly. “And all to make two minutes grow where

one grew before?” Dede queried, at the same time laughing

heartily at his affectation of mystery.

He stared at her fascinated. She had such a frank, boyish way of

throwing her head back when she laughed. And her teeth were an

unending delight to him. Not small, yet regular and firm,

without a blemish, he considered then the healthiest, whitest,

prettiest teeth he had ever seen. And for months he had been

comparing them with the teeth of every woman he met.

It was not until her laughter was over that he was able to

continue.

“The ferry system between Oakland and San Francisco is the worst

one-horse concern in the United States. You cross on it every

day, six days in the week. That’s say, twenty-five days a month,

or three hundred a year. Now long does it take you one way?

Forty minutes, if you’re lucky. I’m going to put you across in

twenty minutes. If that ain’t making two minutes grow where one

grew before, knock off my head with little apples. I’ll save you

twenty minutes each way. That’s forty minutes a day, times three

hundred, equals twelve thousand minutes a year, just for you,

just for one person. Let’s see: that’s two hundred whole hours.

Suppose I save two hundred hours a year for thousands of other

folks,–that’s farming some, ain’t it?”

Dede could only nod breathlessly. She had caught the contagion

of his enthusiasm, though she had no clew as to how this great

time-saving was to be accomplished.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s ride up that hill, and when I get you

out on top where you can see something, I’ll talk sense.”

A small footpath dropped down to the dry bed of the canon, which

they crossed before they began the climb. The slope was steep

and covered with matted brush and bushes, through which the

horses slipped and lunged. Bob, growing disgusted, turned back

suddenly and attempted to pass Mab. The mare was thrust sidewise

into the denser bush, where she nearly fell. Recovering, she

flung her weight against Bob. Both riders’ legs were caught in

the consequent squeeze, and, as Bob plunged ahead down hill, Dede

was nearly scraped off. Daylight threw his horse on to its

haunches and at the same time dragged Dede back into the saddle.

Showers of twigs and leaves fell upon them, and predicament

followed predicament, until they emerged on the hilltop the worse

for wear but happy and excited. Here no trees obstructed the

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view. The particular hill on which they were, out-jutted from

the regular line of the range, so that the sweep of their vision

extended over three-quarters of the circle. Below, on the flat

land bordering the bay, lay Oakland, and across the bay was San

Francisco. Between the two cities they could see the white

ferry-boats on the water. Around to their right was Berkeley,

and to their left the scattered villages between Oakland and San

Leandro. Directly in the foreground was Piedmont, with its

desultory dwellings and patches of farming land, and from

Piedmont the land rolled down in successive waves upon Oakland.

“Look at it,” said Daylight, extending his arm in a sweeping

gesture. “A hundred thousand people there, and no reason there

shouldn’t be half a million. There’s the chance to make five

people grow where one grows now. Here’s the scheme in a

nutshell. Why don’t more people live in Oakland? No good

service with San Francisco, and, besides, Oakland is asleep.

It’s a whole lot better place to live in than San Francisco.

Now, suppose I buy in all the street railways of Oakland,

Berkeley, Alameda, San Leandro, and the rest,–bring them under

one head with a competent management? Suppose I cut the time to

San Francisco one-half by building a big pier out there almost to

Goat Island and establishing a ferry system with modern

up-to-date boats? Why, folks will want to live over on this

side. Very good. They’ll need land on which to build. So,

first

I buy up the land. But the land’s cheap now. Why? Because it’s

in the country, no electric roads, no quick communication, nobody

guessing that the electric roads are coming. I’ll build the

roads.

That will make the land jump up. Then I’ll sell the land as fast

as the folks will want to buy because of the improved ferry

system

and transportation facilities.

“You see, I give the value to the land by building the roads.

Then I sell the land and get that value back, and after that,

there’s the roads, all carrying folks back and forth and earning

big money. Can’t lose. And there’s all sorts of millions in it.

I’m going to get my hands on some of that water front and the

tide-lands. Take between where I’m going to build my pier and

the old pier. It’s shallow water. I can fill and dredge and put

in a system of docks that will handle hundreds of ships. San

Francisco’s water front is congested. No more room for ships.

With hundreds of ships loading and unloading on this side right

into the freight cars of three big railroads, factories will

start up over here instead of crossing to San Francisco. That

means factory sites. That means me buying in the factory sites

before anybody guesses the cat is going to jump, much less, which

way. Factories mean tens of thousands of workingmen and their

families. That means more houses and more land, and that means

me, for I’ll be there to sell them the land. And tens of

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thousands of families means tens of thousands of nickels every

day for my electric cars. The growing population will mean more

stores, more banks, more everything. And that’ll mean me, for

I’ll be right there with business property as well as home

property. What do you think of it?”

Therefore she could answer, he was off again, his mind’s eye

filled with this new city of his dream which he builded on the

Alameda hills by the gateway to the Orient.

“Do you know–I’ve been looking it up–the Firth Of Clyde, where

all the steel ships are built, isn’t half as wide as Oakland

Creek down there, where all those old hulks lie? Why ain’t it a

Firth of Clyde? Because the Oakland City Council spends its time

debating about prunes and raisins. What is needed is somebody to

see things, and, after that, organization. That’s me. I didn’t

make Ophir for nothing. And once things begin to hum, outside

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