filled with the cheery music of labor. Harry had been constituted
engineer-in-general, and he threw the full strength of his powers into
his work. He moved among his hirelings like a king. Authority seemed to
invest him with a new splendor. Col. Sellers, as general superintendent
of a great public enterprise, was all that a mere human being could be–
and more. These two grandees went at their imposing “improvement” with
the air of men who had been charged with the work of altering the
foundations of the globe.
They turned their first attention to straightening the river just above
the Landing, where it made a deep bend, and where the maps and plans
showed that the process of straightening would not only shorten distance
but increase the “fall.” They started a cut-off canal across the
peninsula formed by the bend, and such another tearing up of the earth
and slopping around in the mud as followed the order to the men, had
never been seen in that region before. There was such a panic among the
turtles that at the end of six hours there was not one to be found within
three miles of Stone’s Landing. They took the young and the aged, the
decrepit and the sick upon their backs and left for tide-water in
disorderly procession, the tadpoles following and the bull-frogs bringing
up the rear.
Saturday night came, but the men were obliged to wait, because the
appropriation had not come. Harry said he had written to hurry up the
money and it would be along presently. So the work continued, on Monday.
Stone’s Landing was making quite a stir in the vicinity, by this time.
Sellers threw a lot or two on the market, “as a feeler,” and they sold
well. He re-clothed his family, laid in a good stock of provisions, and
still had money left. He started a bank account, in a small way–and
mentioned the deposit casually to friends; and to strangers, too; to
everybody, in fact; but not as a new thing–on the contrary, as a matter
of life-long standing. He could not keep from buying trifles every day
that were not wholly necessary, it was such a gaudy thing to get out his
bank-book and draw a check, instead of using his old customary formula,
“Charge it” Harry sold a lot or two, also–and had a dinner party or two
at Hawkeye and a general good time with the money. Both men held on
pretty strenuously for the coming big prices, however.
At the end of a month things were looking bad. Harry had besieged the
New York headquarters of the Columbus River Slack-water Navigation
Company with demands, then commands, and finally appeals, but to no
purpose; the appropriation did not come; the letters were not even
answered. The workmen were clamorous, now. The Colonel and Harry
retired to consult.
“What’s to be done?” said the Colonel.
“Hang’d if I know.”
“Company say anything?”
“Not a word.”
“You telegraphed yesterday?”
Yes, and the day before, too.”
“No answer?”
“None-confound them!”
Then there was a long pause. Finally both spoke at once:
“I’ve got it!”
“I’ve got it!”
“What’s yours?” said Harry.
“Give the boys thirty-day orders on the Company for the back pay.”
“That’s it-that’s my own idea to a dot. But then–but then—-”
“Yes, I know,” said the Colonel; “I know they can’t wait for the orders
to go to New York and be cashed, but what’s the reason they can’t get
them discounted in Hawkeye?”
“Of course they can. That solves the difficulty. Everybody knows the
appropriation’s been made and the Company’s perfectly good.”
So the orders were given and the men appeased, though they grumbled a
little at first. The orders went well enough for groceries and such
things at a fair discount, and the work danced along gaily for a time.
Two or three purchasers put up frame houses at the Landing and moved in,
and of course a far-sighted but easy-going journeyman printer wandered
along and started the “Napoleon Weekly Telegraph and Literary
Repository”–a paper with a Latin motto from the Unabridged dictionary,
and plenty of “fat” conversational tales and double-leaded poetry–all
for two dollars a year, strictly in advance. Of course the merchants