Burning Daylight by Jack London

there, you gangrene-livered skunk. Jump! By God! or I’ll make

you leak till folks’ll think your father was a water hydrant and

your mother a sprinkling-cart. You-all move your chair

alongside, Guggenhammer; and you-all Dowsett, sit right there,

while I just irrelevantly explain the virtues of this here

automatic. She’s loaded for big game and she goes off eight

times. She’s a sure hummer when she gets started.

“Preliminary remarks being over, I now proceed to deal.

Remember, I ain’t making no remarks about your deal. You done

your darndest, and it was all right. But this is my deal, and

it’s up to me to do my darndest. In the first place, you-all

know me. I’m Burning Daylight–savvee? Ain’t afraid of God,

devil, death, nor destruction. Them’s my four aces, and they

sure copper your bets. Look at that there living skeleton.

Letton, you’re sure afraid to die. Your bones is all rattling

together you’re that scared. And look at that fat Jew there.

This little weapon’s sure put the fear of God in his heart. He’s

yellow as a sick persimmon. Dowsett, you’re a cool one. You-all

ain’t batted an eye nor turned a hair. That’s because you’re

great on arithmetic. And that makes you-all dead easy in this

deal of mine. You’re sitting there and adding two and two

together, and you-all know I sure got you skinned. You know me,

and that I ain’t afraid of nothing. And you-all adds up all your

money and knows you ain’t a-going to die if you can help it.”

“I’ll see you hanged,” was Dowsett’s retort.

“Not by a damned sight. When the fun starts, you’re the first I

plug. I’ll hang all right, but you-all won’t live to see it.

You-all die here and now while I’ll die subject to the law’s

delay–savvee? Being dead, with grass growing out of your

carcasses, you won’t know when I hang, but I’ll sure have the

pleasure a long time of knowing you-all beat me to it.”

Daylight paused.

“You surely wouldn’t kill us?” Letton asked in a queer, thin

voice.

Daylight shook his head.

“It’s sure too expensive. You-all ain’t worth it. I’d sooner

have my chips back. And I guess you-all’d sooner give my chips

back than go to the dead-house.”

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102

A long silence followed.

“Well, I’ve done dealt. It’s up to you-all to play. But while

you’re deliberating, I want to give you-all a warning: if that

door opens and any one of you cusses lets on there’s anything

unusual, right here and then I sure start plugging. They ain’t a

soul’ll get out the room except feet first.”

A long session of three hours followed. The deciding factor was

not the big automatic pistol, but the certitude that Daylight

would use it. Not alone were the three men convinced of this,

but Daylight himself was convinced. He was firmly resolved to

kill the men if his money was not forthcoming. It was not an

easy matter, on the spur of the moment, to raise ten millions in

paper currency, and there were vexatious delays. A dozen times

Mr. Howison and the head clerk were summoned into the room. On

these occasions the pistol lay on Daylight’s lap, covered

carelessly by a newspaper, while he was usually engaged in

rolling or lighting his brown-paper cigarettes. But in the end,

the thing was accomplished. A suit-case was brought up by one of

the clerks from the waiting motor-car, and Daylight snapped it

shut on the last package of bills. He paused at the door to make

his final remarks.

“There’s three several things I sure want to tell you-all. When

I get outside this door, you-all’ll be set free to act, and I

just want to warn you-all about what to do. In the first place,

no warrants for my arrest–savvee? This money’s mine, and I

ain’t

robbed you of it. If it gets out how you gave me the

double-cross

and how I done you back again, the laugh’ll be on you, and it’ll

sure be an almighty big laugh. You-all can’t afford that laugh.

Besides, having got back my stake that you-all robbed me of, if

you

arrest me and try to rob me a second time, I’ll go gunning for

you-all, and I’ll sure get you. No little fraid-cat shrimps like

you-all can skin Burning Daylight. If you win you lose, and

there’ll sure be some several unexpected funerals around this

burg.

Just look me in the eye, and you-all’ll savvee I mean business.

Them stubs and receipts on the table is all yourn. Good day.”

As the door shut behind him, Nathaniel Letton sprang for the

telephone, and Dowsett intercepted him.

“What are you going to do?” Dowsett demanded.

“The police. It’s downright robbery. I won’t stand it. I tell

you I won’t stand it.”

Dowsett smiled grimly, but at the same time bore the slender

Burning Daylight

103

financier back and down into his chair.

“We’ll talk it over,” he said; and in Leon Guggenhammer he found

an anxious ally.

And nothing ever came of it. The thing remained a secret with

the three men. Nor did Daylight ever give the secret away,

though that afternoon, leaning back in his stateroom on the

Twentieth Century, his shoes off, and feet on a chair, he

chuckled long and heartily. New York remained forever puzzled

over the affair; nor could it hit upon a rational explanation.

By all rights, Burning Daylight should have gone broke, yet it

was known that he immediately reappeared in San Francisco

possessing an apparently unimpaired capital. This was evidenced

by the magnitude of the enterprises he engaged in, such as, for

instance, Panama Mail, by sheer weight of money and fighting

power wresting the control away from Shiftily and selling out in

two months to the Harriman interests at a rumored enormous

advance.

CHAPTER V

Back in San Francisco, Daylight quickly added to his reputation

In ways it was not an enviable reputation. Men were afraid of

him. He became known as a fighter, a fiend, a tiger. His play

was a ripping and smashing one, and no one knew where or how his

next blow would fall. The element of surprise was large. He

balked on the unexpected, and, fresh from the wild North, his

mind not operating in stereotyped channels, he was able in

unusual degree to devise new tricks and stratagems. And once he

won the advantage, he pressed it remorselessly. “As relentless

as a Red Indian,” was said of him, and it was said truly.

On the other hand, he was known as “square.” His word was as

good as his bond, and this despite the fact that he accepted

nobody’s word. He always shied at propositions based on

gentlemen’s agreements, and a man who ventured his honor as a

gentleman, in dealing with Daylight, inevitably was treated to an

unpleasant time. Daylight never gave his own word unless he held

the whip-hand. It was a case with the other fellow taking it or

nothing.

Legitimate investment had no place in Daylight’s play. It tied

up his money, and reduced the element of risk. It was the

gambling side of business that fascinated him, and to play in his

slashing manner required that his money must be ready to hand.

It was never tied up save for short intervals, for he was

principally engaged in turning it over and over, raiding here,

there, and everywhere, a veritable pirate of the financial main.

A five-per cent safe investment had no attraction for him; but to

risk millions in sharp, harsh skirmish, standing to lose

everything or to win fifty or a hundred per cent, was the savor

of life to him. He played according to the rules of the game,

Burning Daylight

104

but

he played mercilessly. When he got a man or a corporation down

and

they squealed, he gouged no less hard. Appeals for financial

mercy

fell on deaf ears. He was a free lance, and had no friendly

business associations. Such alliances as were formed

from time to time were purely affairs of expediency, and he

regarded his allies as men who would give him the double-cross or

ruin him if a profitable chance presented. In spite of this

point of view, he was faithful to his allies. But he was

faithful just as long as they were and no longer. The treason

had to come from them, and then it was ‘Ware Daylight.

The business men and financiers of the Pacific coast never forgot

the lesson of Charles Klinkner and the California & Altamont

Trust Company. Klinkner was the president. In partnership with

Daylight, the pair raided the San Jose Interurban. The powerful

Lake Power & Electric Lighting corporation came to the rescue,

and Klinkner, seeing what he thought was the opportunity, went

over to the enemy in the thick of the pitched battle. Daylight

lost three millions before he was done with it, and before he was

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