or in a tent, Philip soon found, he was just the same. In camp he would
get himself, up in the most elaborate toilet at his command, polish his
long boots to the top, lay out his work before him, and spend an hour or
longer, if anybody was looking at him, humming airs, knitting his brows,
and “working” at engineering; and if a crowd of gaping rustics were
looking on all the while it was perfectly satisfactory to him.
“You see,” he says to Philip one morning at the hotel when he was thus
engaged, “I want to get the theory of this thing, so that I can have a
check on the engineers.”
“I thought you were going to be an engineer yourself,” queried Philip.
“Not many times, if the court knows herself. There’s better game. Brown
and Schaick have, or will have, the control for the whole line of the
Salt Lick Pacific Extension, forty thousand dollars a mile over the
prairie, with extra for hard-pan–and it’ll be pretty much all hardpan
I can tell you; besides every alternate section of land on this line.
There’s millions in the job. I’m to have the sub-contract for the first
fifty miles, and you can bet it’s a soft thing.”
“I’ll tell you what you do, Philip,” continued Larry, in a burst of
generosity, “if I don’t get you into my contract, you’ll be with the
engineers, and you jest stick a stake at the first ground marked for a
depot, buy the land of the farmer before he knows where the depot will
be, and we’ll turn a hundred or so on that. I’ll advance the money for
the payments, and you can sell the lots. Schaick is going to let me have
ten thousand just for a flyer in such operations.”
“But that’s a good deal of money.”
“Wait till you are used to handling money. I didn’t come out here for a
bagatelle. My uncle wanted me to stay East and go in on the Mobile
custom house, work up the Washington end of it; he said there was a
fortune in it for a smart young fellow, but I preferred to take the
chances out here. Did I tell you I had an offer from Bobbett and Fanshaw
to go into their office as confidential clerk on a salary of ten
thousand?”
“Why didn’t you take it ?” asked Philip, to whom a salary of two thousand
would have seemed wealth, before he started on this journey.
“Take it? I’d rather operate on my own hook;” said Harry, in his most
airy manner.
A few evenings after their arrival at the Southern, Philip and Harry made
the acquaintance of a very agreeable gentleman, whom they had frequently
seen before about the hotel corridors, and passed a casual word with. He
had the air of a man of business, and was evidently a person of
importance.
The precipitating of this casual intercourse into the more substantial
form of an acquaintanceship was the work of the gentleman himself, and
occurred in this wise. Meeting the two friends in the lobby one evening,
he asked them to give him the time, and added:
“Excuse me, gentlemen–strangers in St. Louis? Ali, yes-yes. From the
East, perhaps? Ah; just so, just so. Eastern born myself–Virginia.
Sellers is my name–Beriah Sellers.
Ah! by the way–New York, did you say? That reminds me; just met some
gentlemen from your State, a week or two ago–very prominent gentlemen–
in public life they are; you must know them, without doubt. Let me see–
let me see. Curious those names have escaped me. I know they were from
your State, because I remember afterward my old friend Governor Shackleby
said to me–fine man, is the Governor–one of the finest men our country
has produced–said he, Colonel, how did you like those New York
gentlemen?–not many such men in the world,–Colonel Sellers,’ said the
Governor–yes, it was New York he said–I remember it distinctly.
I can’t recall those names, somehow. But no matter. Stopping here,
gentlemen–stopping at the Southern?”
In shaping their reply in their minds, the title “Mr.” had a place in it;
but when their turn had arrived to speak, the title “Colonel” came from