The Man of Last Resort; Or, The Clients of Randolph Mason. Melville Davisson Post

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СКАЧАТЬ met at a football game at Harvard, and afterward in New York, where she resided with her aunt, Mrs. Hester Beaufort.

      The gigantic confidence of youth is certainly a matter of sublime wonder to the gods. One at all familiar with the ways of things would have at once pronounced both results quite impossible to the improvident young man. But from the standpoint of exuberant youth there seemed to be no important obstacles except the possible delay, and this was not very material, as the world was young and these were things to be had in the farther future.

      For the present, Randal determined to organize a political machine and transport it into one of the remote Western States. The East offered no theatre for his talents; it was closely organized; its political machinery was too strong for him to hope to oppose it. He would be crushed out in the first skirmish.

      Nor could he hope for early recognition by allying himself to any one of the established organizations. These were crowded with deserving men, and besides, he had no intention of serving as a political apprentice. He had ability, he believed, as a political strategist, and he proposed to operate free and untrammelled in a big, breezy arena.

      Having determined upon a course, young Randal at once proceeded to put it into operation. He held a council of war at the Plaza on Fifth Avenue with two of his college associates, a stranded gambler, called for convenience “Billy the Plunger,” and an old Virginia gentleman named Major Culverson. The council sat in secret session for three days, and the result was that the machine moved out into the Commonwealth of Idaho, and began to operate. But the manners and customs of the West were varied and mystic, and with the following summer the machine, badly shaken, moved over into Nevada. Here, at Tulasco, on the Central Pacific Railroad, the first college man deserted and, helped by his father, returned with great penitence to the civilized East.

      The machine passed on across the Humbolt River and proceeded to attempt to shape the political destinies of Nevada. But disaster was following in its wake, and, after an active and turbulent but quite unprofitable career of a few months, it moved southward, battered and beaten, but unconquered.

      On the night of the third of October, the machine tramped into Hackberry, on the Southern Pacific, and while men slept, the second college man, concealing himself in a freight car, set out for the Atlantic coast, cursing with lurid language all that part of the continent lying west of the Mississippi.

      On the following morning the machine held its second great council, but this time it sat in desperate conclave above the Cow-Punchers' Saloon in the town of Hackberry, facing a condition and not a theory. But three members remained—Randal, the dauntiess Culver-son, and Billy the Plunger.

      The gambler was for organizing a faro bank, and working the towns down the Gila, but as the bank had no funds, and the death rate usually attendant upon such ventures in this primitive country was enormous, his plan was held impracticable, and at four o'clock in the afternoon he ceased to urge the wisdom of his scheme, and after having announced with great solemnity that he was game to any limit the gang wanted, he lapsed into the capacity of a spectator.

      The Major advised moving south into Mexico, but as he seemed to have no definite idea of what should be done when Mexico was reached, and it finally appearing that moving south was simply a fad with Culverson, the plan was likewise abandoned.

      Young Randal, fired by his unabated purpose, urged the wisdom of trying a round with the political fortunes of Arizona, but it was demonstrated that he was considering a major venture, having for its object huge honor, while at present there was crying need for some minor venture that would probably result in the necessaries of life and a few hundred dollars. Accordingly, at three o'clock in the morning, the machine decided to assume, for a time, the vocation of the cattle herder, and accept employment with a certain stock king of New Mexico.

      It was understood, however, that this digression should be temporary, and should be abandoned just as soon as the machine should feel able to resume its original purpose. It was at this point in the deliberations of the conclave that Major Culverson made his famous statement, to wit, that the gates of hell could not ultimately prevail against a political machine composed of a Massachusetts Yankee, a dead game sport, and an old Virginia gentleman.

      From this time forth the career of Randal's machine was a concatenation of fortunes and misfortunes, principally the latter, quite incredible. But the three men clung together, and a single enthusiastic purpose is a marvellous motor power, so that when Fate finally lent a helping hand, the machine became a something of importance in the affairs of a Southwestern Commonwealth. Once on the upward way, the ability of Randal and the daring energies of his associates carried it forward with great strides, so great that on the evening of the day with which this history has to do, the Massachusetts Yankee was the Governor of a State, the Major was Auditor, and Billy the Plunger, now known by his signature as Ambercrombie Hergan, was Secretary of State.

      The sun had gone downward from sight behind the far mountains, now changed from blue to a murky gray. The Governor, recalled to a sense of the hour, closed his mahogany desk, locked the door of his private office, and walked leisurely out through the State-house. As he passed down the steps of the Capitol he met the Auditor coming up.

      “How are you, Al?” said the Auditor.

      “Charmed,” replied the Governor.

      “Ah,” said the Major, with great ceremony, “you may be charmed, sir, but to me, sir, yuur face wears the haunted look of one who holds three nines against what he strongly suspects to be a pat hand.”

      “Sage,” said the Governor, bowing, “I tremble for my hidden thoughts.”

      “You're a fool,” said the Major, stepping up beside the Executive. “I want to know where you are going.”

      “I!” said the Governor, “I am going to the southeast. Do you see that little railroad? I am even now about to commit myself to its irresponsible mercies.”

      “You must not go, Al,” continued the Auditor. “Attend, I will nominate the reasons. First, there is a julep party at my palatial residence.”

      “Insufficient,” said the Governor.

      “Second, there is a strike at the Big Injin.”

      “Insufficient,” said the Governor.

      “And third,” continued the Auditor, lowering his voice, “Honorable Ambercrombie Hergan is at this very hour in the second room of Crawley's Emporium, playing the taxes of Bolas County, and losing them, sir, losing them.”

      The Governor's face grew hard, and his remarks for a moment were quite unprintable. Then he turned to the Auditor.

      “Ned,” he continued, “you must get him out, and take him up to my residence. I will be here by ten o'clock. I am compelled to go to El Paso. I can't get out of it. I am compelled to go.”

      “Compelled?” ejaculated the Major, “who, in the name of all the living gods, is compelling you? He must be greater than the railroads, greater than the legislature, greater than the Federal Court. Compelling the Honorable Alfred Capland Randal? Shade of the blooming Witch of Endor!”

      “Ned,” said the Governor slowly, “I will explain it all just as soon as I can. In the meantime you must help me. You must get him out. Won't you, Ned?”

      The Governor put his hand on the Auditor's shoulder, just as he had done a thousand times before when he needed the help of this unusual man. And, just as he had done a thousand times before, the Major declared that the СКАЧАТЬ