THE CITY OF *
NUMBERED DAYS
6/ FRANCIS LYNDE - • •
ILLUSTRATIONS by C.D.RHODES • • •
j COPYRIGHT BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
SYNOPSIS.
CI*ApTER I-Brouillard. chief engineer
on the Nlquola irrigation dam. goes out
from camp to investigate a strange Hgiit
and finds an automobile party camped at
the canyon portal
CHAPTER II—Brouillard meets J Wes
ley Cortwrlght and his daughter Gene
vieve of the auto party and explains the
reclamation work to them.
CHAPTER III Portwright sees In the
pt eject a big chance to make money "and
no chance for a man to get in anywhere."
Brouillard is Impervious to hints from the
financier, who tells Genevieve the engi
neer "will come down and hook himself
if the bait is well covered.”
CHAPTER IV— Cortwright organizes a
company and obtains government con
tiacts to furnish power and material for
the dam constriction. A busv rltv
springs up about the site. Steve Mass! fi
xate threatens to start a gold rush if
Brouillard does not influence President
hord to build a railroad branch to the
place, thus opting an easy market for
the ore from the "Hittie Susan*' mine.
CHAPTER V—Brouillard and the com
pany s promoter clash, but on orders from
Washington Brouillard turns over the
plans for the power Installation.
CHAPTER VI—On a visit to Amv Mas
singale at her father's mine Brouillard
finds she understands him better than he
had thought.
CHAPTER VII—He tells her of Ills need
for money to pay ofT his dead father’s
debts and that t-< be free he would sacri
fice anything sa.e his love for one wom
an. Though his Influence Is vital to the
building of the railroad extension she
tells him to be true to himself. He de
cides for It.
CHAPTER VIII—Mlrapolls, the elty of
numbered dayR. booms. Cortwrlght per
suades Brouillard become consulting
engineer of the consolidated electric pow
er company in return for $100,000 stock.
CHAPTER IX Rumors that the govern
ment will rail a halt on the dam cause
Grtslow to tell Brouillard that he Is lean
ing to the Cortwrlght side to make the
city permanent. Brouillard denies It.
CHAPTER X—Permanent building In
Mlrapolls and a real estate boom are jn
full swing when the stoppage of work on
the railroad threatens a pantc. Brouillard
spreads the Masslngale story of placer
gold In the river bed and starts a gold
rush.
CHAPTER XI—The gold rush promises
to stop the reclamation project.
nHPTKR X IT—Amy tells Broulllnrd
that her father has Incorporated the "Llt
tle Sushi " and Is in Cortwrtght’s clutches
financially. He tells her he has made
$100,000 and declares Ills love. Amy loves
him but shows him that he has become
demoralized.
CHAPTER XIII—Masslngale’s placer
gold find was a fraud, but a real find Is
made.
CHAPTER XIV- Brouillard sells hts
stock but does not pav his father’s debts
Cortwrlght’s son shoots Steve Massln
gale.
CHAPTER XV — Brouillard threatens
Cortwrlght with exposure of had title to
Mlrapolls land If he pushes Masslngale to
the wall. The magnate promises to give
the old man a free field.
CHAPTER XVI Stories of the dam’s
abandonment revive. Foreclosure on the
"Little Susan” Is Impending and Bmutl
lard loans Dave Masslngale his $100.non to
clear him.
CHAPTER XVII—Masslngale gambles
away the $inn,noO.
CHAPTER "XVITT—Cortwrlght proposes
to Brouillard to carry on the dam work
until the last minute and then call It off
and make Mlrapolls permanent. Brouil
lard agrees to rush the work.
CHAPTER XIX—Loaded with Mlrapolls
real estate he Investigates land titles
and prepares a telegram to Washington
asking for men and money to push work
on the dam.
CHAPTER XX-After a talk with Amv.
who Is horror-stricken at the plot, he
sends the telegram.
’ Shall I do what you would have mo
do, Amv? Or shall 1 do what Is host
for you?” The opposing queries were
as impersonal as the arm's-length gaze.
"Perhaps I might be able to patch up
the ideals and stand them on their feet
again—and you would pay the penalty
ail your life In poverty and privation.
In hopes wrecked and ruined, and I
with my hands tied. That is one horn
of the dilemma, and the other is . . .
let me tell you, Amy, it is worse than
your worst fears. They will strip your
father of the last thing he has on
earth and bring him out in debt to
them. There is one chance, and only
one, so far as I can see. Let me go on
as 1 have begun and I can pull him
out.”
The tears had nurnea mu ui
steadfast eyes which were resting,
with the shining soul looking out
through them, upon the crimsoning
snow peaks of the distant Timanyonls.
“How little you know the real love!”
she said slowly. "It neither weighs
nor measures, nor needs to; it writes
Its own law in the heart, and that law
can make no compromise with evil. It
lias but one requirement—the best
good of the beloved. If the way to
that end lies through sacrifice—if It
asks for the life itself—so let it bo. If
you knew this, Victor, you would know
that I would gladly lose all—the mine,
my father’s chance of his reward for
the years of toil, even my brother s
better chance for reformation—and
count myself happy in having found a
love that was too great to do evil that
good might come.”
He got up stiffly and helped her to
her feet and together they stood look
ing down upon the city of the plain,
lying now under the curved, sunset
shadow cast by the mighty, inbending
sweep of the great dam.
“I don’t know,” he said after a time.
“Once, as I told you a few weeks ago,
the best there was in me would have
leaped up to climb the heights with
you. But I’ve gone far since the going
began. I am not sure that I could
find my way back if I should try. Let's
go down. 1 mustn't keep you out on
the my imLain altes dark. 1 b avail J.
happened to meet her, but I suppose
there is a Mrs. Grundy, even in Gomor
rah.’
She acquiesced in silence and they
made the descent of the steep trail
and walked across in the growing dusk
from the foot of Chigringo to the
stuccoed villa in the suburb, misers of
speech, since there were no deeper
depths to which the spoken word could
plunge. But at the villa steps Rrouil
lard took the girl in his arms and
kissed her.
"Put me out of your mind and heart
If you can,” he said tenderly, repeating
the words which he had once sent
across the distances to her in another
moment of despair, and before she
could answer he was gone.
*•♦**•*
Monsieur Poudrecaulx Bongras, ro
tund, smiling and roached and waxed
to a broad burlesque of second-empire
fierceness, looked in vain among his
dinner guests that evening for the
chief of the reclamation service, and
•‘How Is th® Line Tonight, Pretty
Clear?”
Broulllard’s fifosence held a small dis
appointment for the Frenchman. Ru
mor. the rumor which was never quiet
and which could never be traced con
clusively to its source, was again busy
with exciting hints of a new era of
prosperity about to dawn, and Bongras
had hoped to drop his own little plum
met of inquiry into the reclamation
service chief.
The chance did not materialize. Tho
lights Lu a certain upper office in the
Niquoia building were still turned on
long after M. Poudrecaulx had given
up the hope of the deep-sea sounding
for that night. Some time after the
lobby crowd had meRed, and before
the lower avenue had begun to order
small-hour suppers of Bongras, the two
high windows in the Niquoia building
went dark and a few minutes later the
man who had spent half the night
tramping the floor or sitting with his
head In his hands at the desk in the
upper room came out of the street
archway and walked briskly to the
telegraph office across the plaza.
"How is the line tonight Sanford—
pretty clear?” he asked of the night
manager killing time while the sleepy
night receiving clerk was making his
third attempt to count the words in
the closely-written, two-page govern
ment cipher.
"Nothing doing; a little A. P. stuff
drizzling in now and then,’/ said the
manager; adding: “But that’s like the
poor—always with us."
"All right; there is no particular
rush about this matter of mine. Just
so it is sure to be in the secretary's
hands at the opening of business in
the morning. But be careful that ti
goes straight—you'd better have it
checked back before it is put on the
through wire from Denver.”
“Sure, Mr. Brouillard. What you say
in this little old shack goes as it lays
We’ll look out and not bull your mes
sage. Good night.”
IP CHAPTER XXI
An Evening Call
h
Notwithstanding the preliminary rn
mors which Bongras and many others
had sought so anxiously to verify, the
Mirapolilan awakening to a realization
that once more the tide had turned tc
bring new billows of prosperity turn
bling into the valley of the Niquoia
came with a sudden and triumphant
shock.
The first of the quickening waves
fell upon the government reservation
Between sunrise and nightfall, on a
day when the cloud of depression had
grown black with panic threatenings
the apathy which had lately character
ized the work on the great dam disap
peared as if by magic. The city found
its billboards posted with loud calls
for labor, the idle mixers were put in
! commission; the quarries and crush
ers began to thunder again; and the
' stagings once more shook and trembled
under the feet of a busy army of ped
dlers.
While the revival was as yet only in
the embryonic period, fresh labor be
gan to cotne in gangs and in carloads
and presently by special trains. Swarm
ing colonies of Greeks, Italians and
Bulgarians were dumped upon the city
through the gate of the railroad sta
tion. and once more Chigringo avenue
at night became a cheerful midway
answering to the speech of all na
tions.
Change, revivification, reanimation
instantly became the new order ol
the day; and again Mirapolis flung it
self joyously into the fray, reaping
where it bad not sown and sowing
only where the quickest crop could be
gathered. For now the dullest of the
reapers saw that the government work
was really the Mirapolitan breath of
life. Neither the quickening of the
! city’s industries nor the restarting of
1 the gold dredges in the Quadjenai
canals, the reopening of the Real Es
tate exchange nor the Buckskin com
| pany's sudden resumption of the profit
less prospecting on Jack’s mountain
served to obscure the principal facts—
that without the money the reclama
tion service was disbursing the new
prosperity structure would collapse
like a house of cards.
This new and never-mentioned con
j vietion wrought an eager change in
l men and in methods. Credit vanished
and spot cash was tacitly acknowl
edged to be the only way to do busi
ness in a live community. Fortunes
changed hands swiftly, as before, but
now there was little bargaining and,
with hot haste for the foreword, little
time for it. To the western motto of
“Go to it and get the money” was
added: "And don’t come back with
out it.” It was said with a laugh, but
behind the laugh there was a menace.
Among the individual transforma
tions wrought by the new conditions
the young chief of the reclamation
service afforded the most striking ex
ample. From the morning when he hac
summarily canceled the lease for th(
offices in the 'Niqiioia building and bac
returned his headquarters to the ole
log buildings on the government reser
vation and thence had issued his flrsl
series of orders for the resumption ol
full-force work on the dam and canals
those who had not known him best dis
covered that they had not known him
’ at all. Even to Grislow and the men
of his staff he was curt, crisply rnanda
tpry, almost brutal. For one and al!
there was rarely anything beyond the
shotlike sentence: “I»rive it, men;
drive it; that’s what you're here for—
drive it!”
The time he took to eat. his hurried
meals at Bongras’ could be measured
in minutes, and what hours he gave
to sleep no man Knew, *ince he was
the last to leave the headquarters at
night and the first on the work In the
morning. Twice, after the renewed
activities on the great wall had be
come a well-ordered race against time,
and the concrete was pouring into the
high forms in steady streams from the
ranked batteries of mixers, Mr. Cort
wright had sent for Brouillard, and on
each occasion the messenger had gone
back with the brief word: “Too busy
during working hours.” And when a
third messenger came to inquire what
Mr. Brouillard's working hours were,
the equally blunt answer returned w'as:
“AH the time."
In the face of such discouragements
Mr. Cortwright was constrained tc
pocket his dignity as mayor, as the
potentate of the exchanges, and as
the unquestionable master of the surly
young industry captain who refused
to come when he was called, and to gc
In person. Choosing the evening houi
when he had been assured that he was
likely to find Brouillard alone and al
work, he crossed the boundaries of t.h*
sacred reservation and made his wai
to the door of the log-built mappint
room.
“I came around to see what is eatinf
you these days,” was the pudg?
tyrant's greeting for the young mat
sitting under the shaded desk lamp
“Why don't you drop it) once in f
while and give me the run of things?”
“1 gave your clerk the reason," sail
Brouillard laconically. "I'm too busy.'
“The devil you are!” snapped thi
great man, finding the only armehai
in the room and dropping heavily inti
It. "Since when?”
“Since the first time you sent fo:
me—and before.”
Mr. Cortwright recovered his work
ing geniality only wdth a palpable ef
fort.
“See here. Brouillard. you know yoi
never make any money by being shor
i with me. Let’s drop it and get dowi
to business. What 1 wanted to say n
that you are overdoing it; you are put
ting on too much steam. You’v<
brought the boom, all right, but a
the pace you’re setting it won’t las
long enough. Are you catching on?”
“I’m listening^’ was the noncommit
tal reply.
“Well, enough’s enough, and to<
much of a good thing scalds the_ hoi
j before you'rS ready ro dress it and cut
it up. It's all right for you to run men
in here by the trainload and scatter
'em out over your scaffolding—the
more the merrier, and it's good for the
town—but you needn't sweat the last
shovelful of hurry out of them the way
you're doing. It won’t do to get your
job finished too soon.”
"Before congress convenes, you
mean?” suggested Brouillard.
"That’s just what I mean. String it
out. Make it last.”
Brouillard sat hack in his pivot chair
and began to play with the paper
knife.
"And if I don’t choose to ‘string it
out’—-if I even confess that I am strain
1 ing every nerve to do this thing that
you don't want me to do—what then,
Mr. Oortwright?”
! The quiet retort jolted the stocky
man in the armchair as if it had been
a blow. But he recovered quickly.
"I’ve been looking for that,” he said
with a nervous twinkling of the little
gray eyes. "You’ve no business being
out of business, Brouillard. If you’d
quit puddling sand and cement and lit
tle rocks together and strike your gait
right in ten years you'd be the richest
man this side of the mountains. I'll
be open handed with you: This time
you’ve got us where we can’t wiggle.
We've got to have more time. How
much is it going to cost us?”
Brouillard shook his head slowly.
“Odd as it may seem to you. I'm out
of your market this time, Mr. Cort
wriglit—quite out of It.”
“Oh, no, you’re not. You’ve got
property to sell—a good bit of It. We
can turn it for you at a figure that
will—”
“No; you are mistaken,” was the
quick reply. “I have no property in
Mirapolis. I am merely a squatter on
government land/ like everyone else
in the Niquoia valley.”
“For heaven’s sake!” the promoter
burst out. "What’s got into you?
Don’t you go around trying to stand
that corpse on its feet; it’s a dead one,
I tell you! The Coronida titles are all
right!”
"There are no Coronida titles. You
have known it all along, and I know it
—now. 1 have it straight from the bu
reau of land statistics, in a letter from
a man who knows. The nearest
boundary of the old Spanish grant is
Latigo peak, ten miles south of Ohl
gringo. The department knows this
and is prepared to prove it. And in
the very beginning you and your asso
ciates were warned that you could nor
acquire homestead or other rights in
the Niquoia.”
“Let it go!” snapped the grav-eyed
king of the pack. “We’ve got to get
i out alive and we're going to get out
alive. What's your price?”
! “I have answered that question once,
but I'll make it a little plainer if you
wish. It is beyond your reach; if you
should turn your money-coining soul
into cash you couldn’t pay it this time
Mr. Cortwright.”
“That’s guff—boy-talk—play-rant !
ing! You want something—is it that
damned Massingale business again? 1
don’t own the railroad, but if you think
1 do. I’ll sign anything you want to
write to the traffic people. Let Mas
singale sell his ore and got the money
for it. He’ll go gamble it as he did
yours.”
“1
r
‘‘Then I’ll Take a Hand!” Snarled the
Tyrant, at Bay.
Brouillard looked up under the
shaded electric globe and Ills hand
some face wrinkled in a sour smile.
. I “You are ready to let go, are you?”
he said. “You are too late. Mr. Ford
returned from Europe a week ago, and
I have a wire saying that tonight's
through freight from Brewster is chief
ly made up of empty ore cars for the
‘Little Susan.'”
i The sandy-gray eyes blinked at this,
but Mr. Cortwright was of those who
die hard.
"What 1 said still holds good. Mas
singale or his son, or both of them,
will gamble the money. And if they
don't, we’ve got ’em tied up in a hard
knot on the stock proposition.”
"I was coming to that,” said Brouil
lard quietly. “For a long time you
have been telling me what l should do
and I have done it. Now I’ll take my
turn. You must nolify your associ
1 ates that the 'Little Susan’ deal is off.
1 There will be a called meeting of the
directors here in this room tomorrow
‘ evening at eight o’clock, and—”
“Who calls it?” interrupted the
tyrant.
"The president.”
“President nothing!” was the snort
ed comment. “An old, drunken gam
• bier who hasn't got sense enough to
> go in when it rains! Say, Brouillard,
I'll cut that pie so there'll be enough
to go around the table. Just leave
Massingale out of It and make up
your mind that you're going to sit in
with us. We've bought the mine and
paid for it. I've got the stock put
away where it's safe. Massingale
can't touch a share of it, or vote it,
either."
Broulllard shook his head.
"You are stubbornly hard to con
vince, Mr. Cortwright, but I’ll try one
more time. You will come here to
morrow evening, with your confeder
ates in the deal, prepared to lake the
money you have actually spent in bet
terments and prepared to release the
stock. If you fail to do so you will
get nothing. Is that explicit enough?"
''You’re crazy!” shouted the promo
ter. "You talk as if there wasn’t any
law in this country!"
"There isn't—for such men as you;
you and your kind put yourselves
above the law. But that is neither
here nor there. You don’t want to go
into court with this conspiracy which
you have cooked up to beat David Mas
singale out of his property. It’s the
last thing on earth you want to do.
So you'd better do the other thing—
while you can."
f>i CHAPTER XXII £g
^ The Sunset Gun
Mr. Oortwright sat back in his chair,
and once more Brouillard saw in the
sandy gray eyes the look which had
been in the son's eyes when the dere
lict fought for freedom to finish killing
Stephen Massingale.
“It's a pretty dangerous thing to try
to hold a man up unless you've got the
drop on him, Brouillard,” he said sig
nificantly. ‘‘I’ve got you covered from
my pocket; I’ve had you covered that
way ever since you began tc buck and
rear on me a couple of months age.
One little wire word to Washington
fixes you for good and all. If I say the
word, you'll stay on your Job Just as
long as it will take another man to get
here to supersede you.”
Brouillard laughed.
“The pocket drop is never very safe.
Mr. Cortwright. You are likely to lose
too much time feeling f%r the proper
range. Then, too, you can never be
sure that you won't miss. Also, your
assumption that I’m taking an un
armed man's chance is wrong. I can
kill you before you can pull the trig
ger of the pocket gun you speak of—
kill you so dead that you won’t need
anything but a coroner’s jury and a
coffin. How long would it take you to
get action in the Washington matter,
do you think?”
“I've told you; you have Just about
a week longer to live, at the farthest.”
“I can better that,” was the cool
reply. “I have asked you to do a cer
tain thing tomorrow night. If you don’t
do it, the Spotlight will print, on the
following morning, that letter I spoke
of—the letter from my friend In the
bureau of land statistics. When that
letter is printed everybedy in Mirapo
lis will know that you and your aocom
piices are plain swindlers, amenable to
the criminal law. and from that mo
ment there will never be another real
estate transfer in the Ni(pioia valley.”
The promoter rose slowly out of his
chair and stood leaning heavily with
liis fat hands, palms downward, on the
fiat-topped desk. His cheeks were
puffed out and the bitten mustaches
bristled like the whiskers of a gray old
leader of the timber wolves.
"Brouillard,” he grated huskily,
"does this mean that you're breaking
with us, once for all?”
"It means more than that; it means
that 1 have reached a point at which I
am ashamed to admit that there was
ever anything to break.”
“Then listen: You've helped this
thing along as much as, or more than,
anybody else in this town; and there
are men right here in Mlrapolis—
plenty of ’em—who will kill you like a
rat in a hole if you go back on them
as you are threatening to. Don’t you
know that ?”
The younger man was balancing the
paper cutter across his finger.
"That is the least of my worries.”
he answered, speaking slowly. “I am
all sorts of a moral coward, I suppose;
I’ve proved that often enough in the
past few months, God knows. But I'm
not the other kind. Mr. Cortwright.”
“Then I’ll take a hand!" snarled the
tyrant at bay. "i’ll spend a million dol
lars, if I have to, blacklisting you from
one end of this country to the other!
I’ll fix it so you’ll never build any
thing bigger than a hog pen again as
long as you live! I'll publish your rec
ord wherever there is a newspaper to
print it!” He pounded on the desk
with his fist “I'M do it money can
do It! More than that, you'll never get
a smell of that Chigringo mine—you
nor Dave Massingal6!”
Brouillard tossed the paper-knife in
to a half-opened drawer and squared
himself at the blotting pad.
"That is your challenge, is It?” he
said curtly. “So be it. Start your
machinery. You will doubtless get
me. not because you have money, but
hecause for a time I was weak enough
and wicked enough to climb down and
stand on your level. But if you don't
hurry. Mr. Cortwright. I'll get you first.
Are you going? One thing more—and
it’s a kindness; get your son out of
town before this Massingale matter
comes up for adjustment. It will be
safer.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
"Pretty nearly all, except to tell you
that your time ts growing short, and
you and those who are in with you had
better begin to set your houses in or
der. If you'll come over here at eight
o'clock tomorrow night prepared to do
the square thing by David Massingale,
I'll willihold tfce publication of that
letter which will stamp you and your
associates as criminals before the law;
but that is the only concession I shall
make.”
"You've got to make at least one
more!” stormed the outgoing magnate.
"You don’t have to set any dates or
anything of that kind for your damned
drowning act!”
"In justice to a good many people
who are measurably innocent, I shall
have to do that very thing,” returned
the engineer firmly. “The notice will
appear in tomorrow’s Spotlight.”
It was the final straw in the stocky
promoter's crushing wrath burden. His
fat face turned purple, and for a sec
ond or two he clawed the air, gasping
for breath. Brouillard sat back in his
chair, waiting for the volcanic up
heaval. But it did not come. When he
had regained a measure of self-control,
Mr. Cortwright turned slowly and went
out without a word, stumbling over the
threshold and slamming the door
heavily as he disappeared.
For a time after the promoter’s
wordless departure Brouillard sat at
his desk writing steadily. When the
last of the memorandum sheets was
filled he found his hat and street coat
and left the office. Ten minutes later
he had penetrated to the dusty den on
the second floor of the Spotlight office
where Harlan was grinding copy for
his paper. Brouillard took a chair at
the desk end and laid the sheets of
penciled government paper under the
editor's eyes.
Harlan’s lean, fine-lined face was a
study in changing emotions as he read.
But at the end there was an aggrieved
look in his eyes, mirroring the poignant
regret of a newsman who has found a
priceless story which he dares not use.
"It’s ripping.” he sighed, "the big
gest piece of fireworks a poor devil of
a newspaper man ever had a chance
to touch off. But, of course, 1 can’t
print It.”
“Why ‘of course’?”
"For the same reason that a sane
man doesn’t peek down the muzzle of
a loaded gun when he is monkeying
with the trigger. I want to live a little
while longer.”
Brouillard looked relieved.
“I thought, perhaps. It was on ac
count of your investments.’ he said.
"Not at the present writing.” amend
ed Harlan with a grin. “I got a case of
cold feet when we had that little let-up
a while back, and when the market
“If What You Have Said Here Ever
Gets Into Cold Type, It’s Good-by I”
opened I cleaned up and sent the sure
enough little round dollars home to
Ohio.”
"And still you won’t print this?”
“I’d line to; you don’t know how
much I’d like to. But they’d hang me
and sack the shop. I shouldn't blame
'em. If what you have said here ever
gets into cold type, it's good-by Mirap
olis. Why, Brouillard. the whole Uni
ted States would rise up and tell us to
get off the map. You’ve made us look
like thirty cents trying to block the
wheels of a million dollars—and that is
about the real size of it, I guess.”
“Then it is your opinion that if this
were printed it would do the busi
ness?”
“There isn’t the slightest doubt about
It.”
“Thank you, Harlan, that is what t
wanted to find out—if I had niude it
itrong enough. It'll be printed. I’ll
put it on the wires to the Associated
Press. I was merely giving you the
first hack at it.”
“Gee—gosh! hold on a minute!" ex
claimed the newsman, jumping up and
snapping his fingers. "If I weren't,
such a dodgasted coward! Let me
run in a few 'It is alleged’s', and I’ll
chance It.”
“No; it goes as It lies. There are no
allegations. It Is merely a string of
cold facts, as you very well know.
Print it if you like, and I’ll- see to it
that they don’t hang you or loot the
office. I have two hundred or the
safest men on my force under arms to
night, and we'll take care of you. I’m
in this thing for blood, Harlan, and
when I get through, this little obstruc
tion In the way of progress that Cort
wright and his crowd planned, and
that you and I and a lot of other fools
and knaves helped to build, will be
cooling itself under two hundred feet
of water."
"Good Lord!” snid the editor, still
unable to compass the barbaric sud
denness of it. Then he ran his eye
over the scratch sheets again. “Does
this formal notice that the waste gates
will be closed three weeks from tomor
row go as It stands?" he Inquired.
tLoutinucu Next Week.j