The Octopus - Frank Norris (novel24 .TXT) 📗

“And when you’ve got them seated, what’s to prevent the corporation buying them right over your head?”

“If we’ve got the right kind of men in they could not be bought that way,” interposed Harran. “I don’t know but what there’s something in what Osterman says. We’d have the naming of the Commission and we’d name honest men.”

Annixter struck the table with his fist in exasperation.

“Honest men!” he shouted; “the kind of men you could get to go into such a scheme would have to be DIShonest to begin with.”

Broderson, shifting uneasily in his place, fingering his beard with a vague, uncertain gesture, spoke again:

“It would be the CHANCE of them—our Commissioners—selling out against the certainty of Shelgrim doing us up. That is,” he hastened to add, “ALMOST a certainty; pretty near a certainty.”

“Of course, it would be a chance,” exclaimed Osterman. “But it’s come to the point where we’ve got to take chances, risk a big stake to make a big strike, and risk is better than sure failure.”

“I can be no party to a scheme of avowed bribery and corruption, Mr. Osterman,” declared Magnus, a ring of severity in his voice. “I am surprised, sir, that you should even broach the subject in my hearing.”

“And,” cried Annixter, “it can’t be done.”

“I don’t know,” muttered Harran, “maybe it just wants a little spark like this to fire the whole train.”

Magnus glanced at his son in considerable surprise. He had not expected this of Harran. But so great was his affection for his son, so accustomed had he become to listening to his advice, to respecting his opinions, that, for the moment, after the first shock of surprise and disappointment, he was influenced to give a certain degree of attention to this new proposition. He in no way countenanced it. At any moment he was prepared to rise in his place and denounce it and Osterman both. It was trickery of the most contemptible order, a thing he believed to be unknown to the old school of politics and statesmanship to which he was proud to belong; but since Harran, even for one moment, considered it, he, Magnus, who trusted Harran implicitly, would do likewise—if it was only to oppose and defeat it in its very beginnings.

And abruptly the discussion began. Gradually Osterman, by dint of his clamour, his strident reiteration, the plausibility of his glib, ready assertions, the ease with which he extricated himself when apparently driven to a corner, completely won over old Broderson to his way of thinking. Osterman bewildered him with his volubility, the lightning rapidity with which he leaped from one subject to another, garrulous, witty, flamboyant, terrifying the old man with pictures of the swift approach of ruin, the imminence of danger.

Annixter, who led the argument against him—loving argument though he did—appeared to poor advantage, unable to present his side effectively. He called Osterman a fool, a goat, a senseless, crazy-headed jackass, but was unable to refute his assertions. His debate was the clumsy heaving of brickbats, brutal, direct. He contradicted everything Osterman said as a matter of principle, made conflicting assertions, declarations that were absolutely inconsistent, and when Osterman or Harran used these against him, could only exclaim:

“Well, in a way it’s so, and then again in a way it isn’t.”

But suddenly Osterman discovered a new argument. “If we swing this deal,” he cried, “we’ve got old jelly-belly Behrman right where we want him.”

“He’s the man that does us every time,” cried Harran. “If there is dirty work to be done in which the railroad doesn’t wish to appear, it is S. Behrman who does it. If the freight rates are to be ‘adjusted’ to squeeze us a little harder, it is S. Behrman who regulates what we can stand. If there’s a judge to be bought, it is S. Behrman who does the bargaining. If there is a jury to be bribed, it is S. Behrman who handles the money. If there is an election to be jobbed, it is S. Behrman who manipulates it. It’s Behrman here and Behrman there. It is Behrman we come against every time we make a move. It is Behrman who has the grip of us and will never let go till he has squeezed us bone dry. Why, when I think of it all sometimes I wonder I keep my hands off the man.”

Osterman got on his feet; leaning across the table, gesturing wildly with his right hand, his serio-comic face, with its bald forehead and stiff, red ears, was inflamed with excitement. He took the floor, creating an impression, attracting all attention to himself, playing to the gallery, gesticulating, clamourous, full of noise.

“Well, now is your chance to get even,” he vociferated. “It is now or never. You can take it and save the situation for yourselves and all California or you can leave it and rot on your own ranches. Buck, I know you. I know you’re not afraid of anything that wears skin. I know you’ve got sand all through you, and I know if I showed you how we could put our deal through and seat a Commission of our own, you wouldn’t hang back. Governor, you’re a brave man. You know the advantage of prompt and fearless action. You are not the sort to shrink from taking chances. To play for big stakes is just your game—to stake a fortune on the turn of a card. You didn’t get the reputation of being the strongest poker player in El Dorado County for nothing. Now, here’s the biggest gamble that ever came your way. If we stand up to it like men with guts in us, we’ll win out. If we hesitate, we’re lost.”

“I don’t suppose you can help playing the goat, Osterman,” remarked Annixter, “but what’s your idea? What do you think we can do? I’m not saying,” he hastened to interpose, “that you’ve anyways convinced me by all this cackling. I know as well as you that we are in a hole. But I knew that before I came here tonight. YOU’VE not done anything to make me change my mind. But just what do you propose? Let’s hear it.”

“Well, I say the first thing to do is to see Disbrow. He’s the political boss of the Denver, Pueblo, and Mojave road. We will have to get in with the machine some way and that’s particularly why I want Magnus with us. He knows politics better than any of us and if we don’t want to get sold again we will have to have some one that’s in the know to steer us.”

“The only politics I understand, Mr. Osterman,” answered Magnus sternly, “are honest politics. You must look elsewhere for your political manager. I refuse to have any part in this matter. If the Railroad Commission can be nominated legitimately, if your arrangements can be made without bribery, I am with you to the last iota of my ability.”

“Well, you can’t get what you want without paying for it,” contradicted Annixter.

Broderson was about to speak when Osterman kicked his foot under the table. He, himself, held his peace. He was quick to see that if he could involve Magnus and Annixter in an argument, Annixter, for the mere love of contention, would oppose the Governor and, without knowing it, would commit himself to his— Osterman’s—scheme.

This was precisely what happened. In a few moments Annixter was declaring at top voice his readiness to mortgage the crop of Quien Sabe, if necessary, for the sake of “busting S. Behrman.” He could see no great obstacle in the way of controlling the nominating convention so far as securing the naming of two Railroad Commissioners was concerned. Two was all they needed. Probably it WOULD cost money. You didn’t get something for nothing. It would cost them all a good deal more if they sat like lumps on a log and played tiddledy-winks while Shelgrim sold out from under them. Then there was this, too: the P. and S. W. were hard up just then. The shortage on the State’s wheat crop for the last two years had affected them, too. They were retrenching in expenditures all along the line. Hadn’t they just cut wages in all departments? There was this affair of Dyke’s to prove it. The railroad didn’t always act as a unit, either. There was always a party in it that opposed spending too much money. He would bet that party was strong just now. He was kind of sick himself of being kicked by S. Behrman. Hadn’t that pip turned up on his ranch that very day to bully him about his own line fence? Next he would be telling him what kind of clothes he ought to wear. Harran had the right idea. Somebody had got to be busted mighty soon now and he didn’t propose that it should be he.

“Now you are talking something like sense,” observed Osterman. “I thought you would see it like that when you got my idea.”

“Your idea, YOUR idea!” cried Annixter. “Why, I’ve had this idea myself for over three years.”

“What about Disbrow?” asked Harran, hastening to interrupt. “Why do we want to see Disbrow?”

“Disbrow is the political man for the Denver, Pueblo, and Mojave,” answered Osterman, “and you see it’s like this: the Mojave road don’t run up into the valley at all. Their terminus is way to the south of us, and they don’t care anything about grain rates through the San Joaquin. They don’t care how anti-railroad the Commission is, because the Commission’s rulings can’t affect them. But they divide traffic with the P. and S. W. in the southern part of the State and they have a good deal of influence with that road. I want to get the Mojave road, through Disbrow, to recommend a Commissioner of our choosing to the P. and S. W. and have the P. and S. W. adopt him as their own.”

“Who, for instance?”

“Darrell, that Los Angeles man—remember?”

“Well, Darrell is no particular friend of Disbrow,” said Annixter. “Why should Disbrow take him up?”

“PREE-cisely,” cried Osterman. “We make it worth Disbrow’s while to do it. We go to him and say, ‘Mr. Disbrow, you manage the politics for the Mojave railroad, and what you say goes with your Board of Directors. We want you to adopt our candidate for Railroad Commissioner for the third district. How much do you want for doing it?’ I KNOW we can buy Disbrow. That gives us one Commissioner. We need not bother about that any more. In the first district we don’t make any move at all. We let the political managers of the P. and S. W. nominate whoever they like. Then we concentrate all our efforts to putting in our man in the second district. There is where the big fight will come.”

“I see perfectly well what you mean, Mr. Osterman,” observed Magnus, “but make no mistake, sir, as to my attitude in this business. You may count me as out of it entirely.”

“Well, suppose we win,” put in Annixter truculently, already acknowledging himself as involved in the proposed undertaking; “suppose we win and get low rates for hauling grain. How about you, then? You count yourself IN then, don’t you? You get all the benefit of lower rates without sharing any of the risks we take to secure them. No, nor any of the expense, either. No, you won’t dirty your fingers with helping us put this deal through, but you won’t be so cursed particular when it comes to sharing the profits, will you?”

Magnus rose abruptly to his full height, the nostrils of his thin, hawklike nose vibrating, his smooth-shaven face paler than ever.

“Stop right where you are, sir,” he exclaimed. “You forget yourself, Mr.