V
Not many of these men would ever read a book on etiquette; they would learn about life from action—and here was an occasion, the most instructive that had so far come to them. They learned that when a great man comes into a room, he comes first, preceding his subordinates. They learned that he wears a majestic big overcoat, and stands in silence until he is introduced by a subordinate. "Ladies and gentlemen," said the lease-agent, Skutt, "this is Mr. J. Arnold Ross." Whereupon Mr. Ross smiled agreeably, taking in the entire company: "Good evenin', ladies and gentlemen." Half a dozen men arose, offering him a chair; he took a large one, quite simply, and without wasting time in discussion— realizing, no doubt, how he would be embarrassing the hostess if he called attention to a shortage of chairs. Behind him stood another man, also big. "Mr. Alston D. Prentice," said Skutt, and they were doubly impressed, this being a famous lawyer from Angel City. Also there had entered a little boy, apparently a son of Mr. Ross. The women in the room many of them had little boys of their own, each one destined to grow up into a great oil-man; therefore they watched the Ross boy, and learned that such a boy stays close by his father, and says nothing, but takes in everything with eager roving eyes. As soon as possible he gets himself a perch in the window-sill, where he sits listening, as attentively as if he were a man. Mrs. Groarty had got all the chairs her neighbors could spare, and had visited the "morticians" and rented a dozen camp-chairs; but still there was a shortage, and the etiquette book did not tell you what to do. But these rough and ready Western men had solved the problem, having sought out the wood-shed, which was behind the garage, and fetched some empty "lug-boxes," such as you got when you bought peaches and apricots and plums for canning. Set up on end, these made satisfactory seats, and the company was soon settled. "Well, folks," said Mr. Skutt, genially. "Everything ready?" "No," said the acid voice of Mr. Hank. "We ain't ready. We can't agree." "What?" cried the "lease-hound." "Why, you told me you had got together!" "I know. But we're busted open again." "What is the matter?" Half a dozen people started to tell what was the matter. The voice of Mr. Sahm prevailed over the rest. "There's some people come here with too good lawyers, and they've raked up what they claim is laws that the rest of us won't stand for." "Well now," said Mr. Skutt, politely, "Mr. Prentice here is a very good lawyer, and perhaps he can help to clear up the matter." So, more or less in chorus, they explained, and made known their protests at the same time. Then Mr. Ross' lawyer, speaking ex cathedra, advised them that the statement of the law was absolutely correct, the lease as it stood would be interpreted to mean the area to the middle of the streets and alleys; but of course there was nothing to prevent their making a different arrangement if they saw fit, and so specifying in the lease. And then the fat was in the fire; they began to argue their rights and wrongs, and their animosities flamed so hotly that they forgot even the presence of J. Arnold Ross, and of his eminent lawyer. "I said it once, and I'll say it again," declared Miss Snypp—"Never! Never!" "You'll sign if we vote it!" cried Mr. Hank. "You try it and see!" "You mean you think you can break the agreement?" "I mean I've got a lawyer that says he can break it any day I tell him." "Well, I'll say this," put in Mr. Dibble; "speaking as a lawyer— and I think my colleagues, Mr. Prentice and Mr. Merriweather will back me—that agreement is iron-clad." "Well, at least we can tie you up in the courts!" cried Mr. Sahm. "And keep you there for a year or two!" "A fat lot o' good that'll do you!" sneered Mr. Hank. "Well, we'd as soon be robbed by one set of thieves as another," declared Miss Snypp. "Now, now, folks!" put in Ben Skutt, hastily. "Surely we're none of us goin' to cut off our noses to spite our faces. Don't you think you better let Mr. Ross tell you about his plans?" "Sure, let's hear Mr. Ross!" cried Mr. Golighty; and there was a chorus—yes, by all means they would hear Mr. Ross. If anyone could save them, it was he!
VI
Mr. Ross arose, slowly and gravely. He had already taken off his big overcoat, and folded it and laid it neatly on the rug beside his chair; the housewives had made note of that, and would use it in future domestic arguments. He faced them now, a portly person in a comfortable serge suit, his features serious but kindly, and speaking to them in a benevolent, almost fatherly voice. If you are troubled by the fact that he differs from you in the use of language, bear in mind that it is not the English but the south-western American language that he is using. You would need to play the oil game out in that country, in order to realize that a man may say, "I just done it onst, and I'm a-goin' to do it again," and yet be dressed like a metropolitan banker, and have the calm assurance of a major-general commanding, and the kindly dignity of an Episcopal bishop. Said Mr. J. Arnold Ross: "Ladies and gentlemen, I traveled over just about half our state to get here this evenin'. I couldn't get away sooner, because my new well was a-comin' in at Lobos River, and I had to see about it. That well is now flowin' four thousand barrel, and payin' me an income of five thousand dollars a day. I got two others drillin', and I got sixteen producin' at Antelope. So, ladies and gentlemen, if I say I'm an oil man, you got to agree. "You got a great chance here, ladies and gentlemen; but bear in mind, you can lose it all if you ain't careful. Out of all the fellers that beg you for a chance to drill your land, maybe one in twenty will be oil men; the rest will be speculators, fellers tryin' to get between you and the oil men, to get some of the money that ought by rights come to you. Even if you find one that has money, and means to drill, he'll maybe know nothin' about drillin', and have to hire out the job on contract—and then you're dependin' on a contractor that's tryin' to rush the job through, so as to get to another contract just as quick as he can. "But, ladies and gentlemen, I do my own drillin', and the fellers that work for me are fellers I know. I make it my business to be there and see to their work. I don't lose my tools in the hole, and spend months a-fishin'; I don't botch the cementin' off, and let water into the hole, and ruin the whole lease. And let me tell you, I'm fixed right now like no other man or company in this field. Because my Lobos River well has just come in, I got a string of tools all ready to put to work. I can load a rig onto trucks, and have them here in a week. I've got business connections, so I can get the lumber for the derrick—such things go by friendship, in a rush like this. That's why I can guarantee to start drillin', and put up the cash to back my word. I assure you whatever the others promise to do, when it comes to the showdown, they won't be there. "Ladies and gentlemen, it's not up to me to say how you're a-goin' to divide the royalty. But let me say this; whatever you give up, so as to get together, it'll be small compared to what you may lose by delay, and by fallin' into the hands of gamblers and crooks. Ladies and gentlemen, take it from me as an oil man, there ain't a-goin' to be many gushers here at Prospect Hill; the pressure under the ground will soon let up, and it'll be them that get their wells down first that'll get the oil. A field plays out very quick; in two or three years you'll see all these here wells on the pump—yes, even this discovery well that's got you all crazy. So, take my word for it, and don't break up this lease; take a smaller share of royalty, if you must, and I'll see that it's a small share of a big royalty, so you won't lose in real money. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what I had to say." The great man stood, as if waiting to see if anyone had anything to answer; then he sat down, and there was a pause in the proceedings. His had been weighty words, and no one quite had the courage to break the spell. At last Mr. Golighty arose. "Friends," he said, "we have been hearing common sense, from a gentleman in whom we all have confidence; and I for one admit myself convinced, and hope that we may prove ourselves a group of business people, capable of making a wise decision, in this matter which means so much to all of us." And so Mr. Golighty was started on one of his long speeches, the purport of which appeared to be that the majority should rule. "But that's just the trouble," said Mr. Sahm; "what is the majority?" "We take a wote," said Mr. Chaim Lohlker, "and we find out." Mr. Merriweather, the lawyer, had been consulting in whispers with his clients. "Ladies and gentlemen," he now declared, "I am authorized by Mr. and Mrs. Walter Black to say that they have been greatly impressed by what Mr. Ross has said, and they wish to make any concession necessary to harmony. They are willing to waive the point which I raised at the beginning of this discussion, and to sign the lease as it stands." "But what does that mean?" demanded Mrs. Groarty. "Are they to get a royalty on a ninety-five foot lot?" "Our offer is to sign the document as it stands, and the question of interpretation may be decided later." "Oho!" said Mr. Groarty. "A fine concession that—and when we've just heard Mr. Prentice tell us that the law reads your way!" "We agreed to sign it," said Mr. Hank, doing his best to make his voice sound pleasant. "Oh, listen to who's talking!" cried Miss Snypp. "The gentleman that was saying, less than a half an hour ago, that we should go back to our original arrangement—cthe only sensible one, share and share alike, all lots equal, same as we vote.' Have I quoted you correct, Mr. Hank?" "I agreed to sign this lease," declared the ex-goldminer, stubbornly. "And for my part," said the trained nurse, "I said it once and I'll say it again, never on this earth!"
VII
Old Mrs. Ross, Bunny's grandmother, was accustomed to protest strenuously against a boy being taken about on these business trips. It was enough to destroy all the sweetness of his nature, she declared; it would make him a hardened cynic in his childhood, all this sordidness and hatefulness of money-grabbing. But Bunny's father answered that that was life, and there was no good fooling yourself; Bunny would have to live in the world some day, and the quicker he learned about it the better. So there the boy sat, on his perch in the window-sill, watching, and recalling his grandmother's words. Yes, they were a mean bunch, sure enough; Dad was right when he said you had to watch out every minute, because somebody would be trying to take something away from you. These people had simply gone crazy, with the sudden hope of getting a lot of money in a hurry. Bunny, who had always had all the money he could use, looked down with magnificent scorn upon their petty bickering. You couldn't trust such people around the corner, he decided; there was nothing they wouldn't do to you. That fat old woman in the yellow satin dress, with her fat red arms and her fat legs cased in silk—it wouldn't take much more to have her clawing somebody's face. And that hatchet-faced man with the voice like a buzz-saw—he would be capable of sticking a knife into you on a dark night! Dad wanted his son to understand every detail of these business arrangements: the terms of the lease, the provisions of the law, the size of the different lots, the amounts of money involved. He would talk about it afterwards, and it would be a kind of examination, to see how much the boy had really understood. So Bunny listened attentively, and put this and that together, remembering the points of the lease as he had heard his father going over them with Ben Skutt and Mr. Prentice while they were driving out to the field in the latter's car. But the boy could not keep his mind from going off to the different personalities involved, and their points of view, and the hints one got of their lives. That old fellow with the stooped shoulders and the gnarled hands—he was some kind of poor workingman, and you could see he was unhappy over this arguing; he wanted somebody he could trust, and he looked this way and that, but there was no such person in the crowd. That young woman with the nose-glasses, she was a hard one—what did she do when she wasn't quarreling? That elderly couple that looked rich—they were very much on their dignity, but they had come to get their share, all the same, and they weren't having any generous emotions towards the "little lots"! The old gentleman drew his chair over beside Dad and began a whispered conversation. Bunny saw Dad shake his head, and the old gentleman drew away. Dad spoke to Skutt, and the latter rose and said: "Mr. Ross wishes me to make clear that he isn't interested in any proposition for leasing a portion of the block. He wouldn't put down a well without room for offset wells. If you people can't agree, he'll take another lease that I've found him." This struck a chill to them, and stopped the wrangling. Dad saw it, and nodded to his "lease-hound," who went on: "Mr. Ross has an offer of a lease on the north side, which has very good prospects, because we believe the anticline runs that way. There are several acres which belong to one party, so it will be easy to agree."—Yes, that scared the wits out of them; it was several minutes before they were quarreling again! Where Bunny sat in the window-sill, he could see the lights of the "discovery well," now shut off and awaiting the building of tanks; he could hear through the open window the hammering of the riveters on the tanks, and of carpenters building new derricks along the slope. His attention was wandering, when suddenly he was startled by a whispered voice, coming from the darkness, apparently right alongside him: "Hey, kid!" Bunny peered around the edge of the window, and saw a figure, flattened against the side of the house. "Hey, kid," said the whisper again. "Listen to me, but don't let nobody know you're lis-tenin'. They mustn't know I'm here." Bunny's thought was, "A spy! Trying to find out about the lease!" So he was on the alert; he listened to a steady persistent whisper, intense and moving: "Hey, kid! I'm Paul Watkins, and the lady what lives here is my aunt. I dassn't let her know I'm here, see, 'cause she'll make me go back home. I live on a ranch up in the San Elido, and I run away from home 'cause I can't stand it, see. I got to get a job, but first I got to have somethin' to eat, 'cause I'm near starved. And my aunt would want me to have it, 'cause we're friends, see—only she'd want me to go back home, and I can't stand it. So I want to get somethin' to eat out of the kitchen, and when I earn some money, I'll mail it to her, so I'll just be borrowin', see. What I want you to do is to unlock the kitchen door. I won't take nothin' but a piece of pie, and maybe a sandwich or somethin', see. All you got to do is, tell my aunt to let you go into the kitchen and get a drink of water, and then turn the key in the door and go back into the house. You come out the front door if you want to, and come round and make sure it's all like I tell you. Say, kid, be a good scout, 'cause I'm up against it, it's sure tough not to have a meal all day, and I been hitch-hikin' and walkin' a lot o' the time, and I'm done up. You come out and I'll tell you about it, but don't try to talk to me here, 'cause they'll see your lips movin', see, and they'll know there's somebody out here." Bunny thought quickly. It was a delicate ethical question— whether you had a right to unlock somebody else's back-door, so that a possible thief could get in! But of course it wasn't really a thief, if it was your aunt, and she would give it to you anyhow. But how could you know if the story was true? Well, you could go out, like the fellow said, and if he was a thief you could grab him. What decided Bunny was the voice, which he liked; even before he laid eyes on Paul Watkins' face, Bunny felt the power in Paul Watkins' character, he was attracted by something deep and stirring and powerful. Bunny slid off the window-sill, and walked over to Mrs. Groarty, who was wiping the perspiration from her forehead after a vicious tirade. "Please, ma'am," he said, "would you be so good as to excuse me if I go into the kitchen and get a drink of water?" He thought that would cover the case, but he failed to allow for the fact that Mrs. Groarty was preparing for a career of elegance, and losing no chance of observing the ways of the wealthy, even to the drinking of a glass of water. Her heart warmed to the son of J. Arnold Ross, and all the vinegar went out of her voice. "Certainly, dear," she said, and rose and led the way to the kitchen. Bunny looked about. "My, what a pretty room!" he exclaimed— which was true enough, because it was all enameled white paint. "Yes, it is nice, I'm glad you think so," said the mistress of it, as she took a glass from the shelf and set the faucet to running. "A real big kitchen," said Bunny; "that's always a comfort." He took the glass of water with thanks, and drank part of it. So polite and natural! thought Mrs. Groarty. Not a bit stuck up! And Bunny went to the back door. "I suppose you've got a big screen porch here. Kind of hot indoors, don't you think?" He unlocked the door, and opened it, and looked out. "The breeze feels good," he said. "And you can see all the wells from here. Won't it be fun when they get to drilling right on this block!" What a friendly little fellow! Mrs. Groarty was thinking; and she said yes, and it would be soon, she hoped. Bunny said that perhaps she'd catch cold, with that lovely evening dress she had on; so he shut the door again; and his hostess was so charmed by the agreeable manners of the aristocracy that she failed to notice that he did not lock the door. He put the empty glass on the drain-board of the sink, and said no thanks, he didn't wish any more, and followed Mrs. Groarty back to the crowded living-room. "What I say is this—" it was the voice of Mr. Sahm, the plasterer. "If you really want to sign the lease as it was, sign it as we all understood it; let's figure the land we own, and not the street we don't own." "In other words," said Mrs. Walter Black, sarcastically, "let's change the lease." "In other words," said Miss Snypp, even more sarcastically, "let's not fall into the trap you big lots set for us."