Adventure, August 1917 — page 111: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Thanks to the Devil “This is a construction outfit—not a mu- seum of Oriental horrors.” _ “Tomorrow’s the dragon feast - day,” Flaherty explained. ‘“These Chinks has their big parade on the grand canal, with dragons all lit up. The chief of police here in Shan, he asks me to help ’em build a dragon here in the shops. Tonight we'll shunt the car down the line; to the canal bank, and unload this big fellow in the water. It didn’t cost the A. C. much—and it makes us strong with the pigtails. Mat- ter of policy to humor ’em a bit, as I told the chief here.”’ ‘‘A matter of dollars and cents wasted,”’ retorted Watts. ‘Flaherty, we hire and fire you to boss coolie gangs—not to monkey with devils——”’ “But the devil cuts a lot of ice with these people,” insisted Flaherty. ‘“‘As I was tellin’ the chief here——”’ ” “Vou talk too much,” snapped Watts. “We're building railroads—not circus-par- ade dragons.”” And he walked away, Tem- ple at his side, an amused look in his eye. ‘You better fire Flaherty,’’ admonished Watts. ‘‘You know, Temple, the A. C. has got to preserve its dignity and discipline. Flaherty’s a disgrace, mixing up Chinese su- perstition and Chinese rice - wine like he does.” “T do fire him occasionally, as a matter of discipline,”’? admitted Temple. “But I’m afraid every time I do it.”’ ‘‘Afraid of what?” ‘Afraid he’ll quit. And he’s too good a man to lose. No man on the force can handle Chinese like Flaherty. Only last week he saved us a big row at Yalo. Yalo is a little town out on our new line, about half-way to Pao-ling. Our two gangs, work- ing in from either end, met there and the natives saw an engine for the first time. If Flaherty hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would have happened. ‘“‘The crazy natives objected to the fire in the engine, said it was an evil spirit. They tried to run our workmen off with spears. Flaherty, who speaks their lingo, jollied ’em along. Finally. humored ’em by drawing the fire, and hooking a lot of mules to the engine. Then he hauled it up and down the track, just to show them it was only an “iron wagon” after all, and not a devil. He’s a born diplomat, Flaherty. When all else fails, he works ventriloquism on ’em, or some punk slight-of-hand stuff.” 109 “‘He does, eh?” said Watts, tolerantly. “Yes—and we need him. Our troubles aren’t over yet. The governor told me yesterday that the peasants around Yalo are up in arms—sent a committee to him, hollering because we tore up an old grave- yard when we ran that spur out to the gravel-pit. We’re bound to have trouble at first, running trains through Yalo.”’ “Let the Belgians worry about that,” grinned Watts. ‘We'll make our final in- spectionrun today. Tomorrow we'll turn the line over to the syndicate—cancel our bond and collect our fee. After that, why worry?” “Getting through today, with our special, is what’s worrying me,” insisted Temple. “Flaherty hears all the rumors. He says they’re liable to jump us at Yalo. I asked the governor for a military escort, but he either didn’t have soldiers to spare, or didn’t want to send ’em.”’ “Soldiers, nonsense,” grumbled Watts. ‘That old ‘700’ will buck any pigtail line at Yalo. You're as bad as Flaherty, Temple. You take these pagans too seriously. Come on,” he added, “‘there are the Belgian agents.” Presently, having met and formally greeted the portly, bearded money-grub- bers from Brussels, the party settled itself comfortably in the private car, and, easily at first, then with increasing speed, they soon were rolling smoothly out through the sub- urbs of the bustling, odorous, city of Shan. It was a momentous occasion to the American Construction Company. It had finished its contract within a day of the time limit—and the Belgians, suave and polite, congratulated President Watts on his ac- complishment, jocularly observing that they would not now be able to collect the forfeit ofa thousand sterling a day, the penalty specified in the contract for any delay. Watts was in rare good-humor. Temple, somehow, felt restless and uneasy. He could not shake off a vague, insistent feeling that all was not right at Yalo. Even in the whistle of old “‘700,” as she blew for cross- ings and villages, he fancied there came a note of sadness, of farewell, as if the engine were saying goodby in its plunge north, to- ward Yalo. 9 . LEAVING Watts to entertain the Belgians, Temple seated himself alone in the rear of the car, his back to the party, watching the track slip from under, watching the dull, drab land of poverty oO CoMmiclbooks (© 5}