The Hallowell Partnership

"I'll take a launch and sprint down to Grafton and wire our report from there," said Burford. His tense face relaxed; he broke into a delighted chuckle. "Think of it: this once I can actually enjoy sending in my report to head-quarters! I'd like to write it out instead of wiring it. I'd put red-ink curlycues and scroll-work dewdabs all over the page. Think, Hallowell, you solemn wooden Indian! The crest of this flood is only two hours away. By noon the highest level will reach our canal. But it can't flood our district for us, for – for we got there first!"

His rosy face one glow of contentment, he started toward the pier. But as he was about to step aboard the duty-launch, Roderick hailed him sharply.

"Wait, Burford. Somebody is coming up the big ditch. A large gray launch, with a little dark-blue flag."

"What!"

Burford sprang back. He shaded his eyes and looked down the canal. Then, to Rod's amazement, he sat down on a pile of two-by-fours and rocked to and fro.

"Whatever ails you, Burford?"

"Whatever ails me, indeed!" Burford choked it out. His ears were scarlet. His eyes were fairly popping from his head with delight. "Oh, I reckon I won't bother to send that report to head-quarters, after all. I'll just let the whole thing slide."

Rod gaped at him.

"Have you lost your last wit, Ned?"

"Not quite. I'm going to give my report to my superior officer by word of mouth. That big gray power-boat is one of our own company's launches. That small blue flag is the company ensign. And that big gray man standing 'midships is – Breckenridge! Breck the Great, his very self."

"Breckenridge!"

"Breckenridge. All there, too – every splendid inch of him. Talk about luck! Our levee is saved. Our dredges are all anchored, right yonder, trim as a gimlet. Our schedule is put through up to the minute. And here, precisely on the psychological moment, comes our chief on his tour of inspection. Can you beat that?"

Roderick merely stared down the canal.

Close behind the launch pilot, scanning the bank intently as they steamed by, towered a broad-shouldered, heavily built man, gray-headed, yet powerful and alert in every movement. He was well splashed with mud; his broad, heavily featured face was colorless with fatigue. Yet as he stood there, with his big tense body, his tired, eager face, he seemed like some magnificent natural force imprisoned in human flesh.

"Isn't he sumptuous, though?" said Burford, under his breath. "Look at those shoulders! What a half-back he would make!"

"Half-back? Why, he could make the All-American," Rod whispered back. His eyes were glued to that tall approaching figure. His heart was pounding in his breast. So this was Breckenridge the Great, his hero! And, marvel of marvels, he looked the hero of all Rod's farthest dreams.

Breckenridge stepped from the launch and shook hands heartily with the radiant and stammering Burford. He looked at Roderick with steady dark eyes. He hardly spoke in reply to Burford's introduction. But the grip of his big, muscular hand was warmly cordial.

He asked a few brief questions. Then he listened, his heavy head bent, his heavy-lidded eyes half closed, to Burford's eager account of their struggles and their triumphs. Almost without speaking he clambered into the launch again and motioned the boys to follow.

For four consecutive hours the three went up and down the rough miry channels. Roderick steered the launch. Burford answered Breckenridge's occasional questions. Breckenridge stood, field-glass in hand, sweeping first one bank, then another with tireless eyes. He made almost no comment on Burford's explanations; but the slow occasional nod of his massive head was eloquent.

Finally they retraced the last lateral and brought the launch up to the main landing.

"No, I'll not stop to dine with you, much as I should enjoy it. I must be getting on to the next contract. They're seeing heavy weather too." Breckenridge stood up, stretching his big, cramped body. As he stood there, brushing the clay from his coat, he seemed to loom.

"I have nothing much to say to you fellows," he went on in his quiet, casual voice, "only to remark that you must have worked like Trojans. You have made a far larger yardage record than we had dared to expect. You've put brains into your work, too. Can't say I'm surprised at your success, by the way. I was pretty certain from what Crosby said that you two would swing this contract, all right. Crosby and I had a talk in Chicago a week or so ago. We were in Tech together. Naturally he's quite a pal of mine, though nowadays we're opponents in a business way. But his opinion weighs heavily with me. And now that I have gone over the ground for myself, I am inclined to think that Crosby rather – well, that he underestimated your services to the company." Again his big head bent with that queer slow nod. For a moment Breck himself, the real man, alert, just, keenly understanding, flashed a glance from behind that heavy mask of splendid, impassive flesh. "Later you will probably receive a more detailed explanation of my opinion on your work. Good luck to you both, and good-by."

He stepped into the launch. The powerful boat dashed away down the rough yellow canal.

The boys stood and looked after him. Burford was wildly exultant. But Roderick was silent. A curious, deep satisfaction lighted his stolid, boyish face. Every word that Breckenridge had spoken was tingling in his blood. At last he had met his hero face to face, man to man. And his hero had proven all that heart could ask.

"I wish I knew what he meant by saying that you'd hear further as to his opinion on your work," pondered Marian.

Just two days later her wish was gratified.

It was a rainy, dreary day. Rod had spent the morning up the laterals and had come home dripping. Marian was trying to dry his soaked clothes before the smoky little oil-stove, but without much success. Just before noon she heard a welcome whistle. She ran down the bank to meet the rural delivery-man in his little spider-launch. The roads were long since impassable; the mail and all the camp supplies must come by water.

"Stacks of letters, Rod. A fat official one for the Burfords and a still fatter, more official one for you. Do read it and tell me your news."

"All right, Sis." Rod pushed aside his blueprints and set to opening his mail.

Marian looked over her own letters. They were all of a sort: pleasant, affectionate notes from her friends at home. All, with one accord, besought her to hurry back to college for commencement. All earnestly pitied her for the tedious weeks that she was spending "in that rough, dreadful western country."

Marian's eyes twinkled as she read. At the bottom of the pile lay a note from her good friend Isabel, begging her for the twentieth time to spend August with her in her beautiful home at Beverly Farms.

Marian read that letter twice. Her dark brows narrowed.

Before her eyes gleamed Isabel's home, the great beautiful house, set on a terraced emerald-green hill. Behind it, dark, cool, mysterious, lay the pine woods; before it flashed and gleamed the sea. She could see its wide, stately rooms, its soft-hued, luxurious furnishings. She could feel the atmosphere of quiet contentment, of assured ease, which was to Isabel and her mother the very air they breathed.

Then she looked around her.

Here she sat in a tiny canvas shack with a rough board floor. She looked at its mended chairs, its rag-tag rug, and stringy curtains; Rod's wet clothes, dripping before the little oil-stove; Rod's battered desk, heaped with papers and blue-prints, a mass of accumulated work. Then she looked through the tent-flap. Neither blue ocean nor deep, still forest met her eyes. Only a narrow, muddy ditch; a row of wind-torn willows; a dark, swollen river, hurrying on beneath a dark, sinister sky.

An exclamation from Rod startled her. He stooped to her, his tired face burning. With unsteady fingers he put a letter into her hand.

"Read that, Sis. No, I'll not read it aloud to you. Look at it with your own eyes."

The Breckenridge Engineering Companyoffice of the superintendent

Roderick T. Hallowell, C. E.,

c/o Contract Camp, Grafton, Illinois

Sir: I beg to state that certain changes in the engineering force of the company have brought about a change in the position occupied by yourself with our firm. Beginning upon the first day of June, 1912, you will be transferred to the post of assistant superintendent on a large drainage contract in northern Iowa. While your position will be second to that of Mr. McPherson, our supervising engineer, yet you will be given entire charge of the assembling of the plant and its construction. Your salary will be two thousand dollars. Payment quarterly, as is our custom.

Some objections to this promotion have been raised by members of our company on the score of your limited experience. Mr. Breckenridge, however, considers from his observation of your methods that you will prove fully equal to this exacting and responsible position.

I am, very respectfully,The Breckenridge Engineering Company. Per R. W. Austin, Sec'y.

Silent, wide-eyed, Marian read this amazing document. Then, with a cry of surprise and delight, she turned to her brother. But before she could speak, a storm of eager feet dashed up the cabin steps. In burst Sally Lou and Ned, headlong. Ned, breathless with excitement, waved a long official envelope. But Sally Lou, close at his heels with Thomas Tucker crowing on her arm, poured out the wild tale.

"Oh, Marian! Oh, Roderick! Oh, it's too good and grand and glorious to be true! We're going home, home, straight back to Virginia!"

"Yes, we're going home, we're fired," puffed Ned, as Sally Lou paused for breath. He sank down on the bench with a sigh of ecstasy. "Don't look so dazed, Hallowell. There is more news coming. We're ordered off this contract. But we're not ordered out of the Breckenridge Engineering Company. Not quite yet. Instead, I'm directed to report on the Dismal Swamp Canal the first of the month. My position will be practically the same as the one that I'm now holding. But we can live at home. At home, I say! Right in Norfolk, right in the midst of all Sally Lou's own home-folks, right around the corner from my own father's house. Won't we have a glorious year of it! And won't Edward Junior and Thomas Tucker be good and spoiled, though!"

"We're so happy we can't even say it to each other!" Sally Lou sat down suddenly, hiding her April face in Thomas Tucker's small pinafore. "It took Mammy Easter to express our feelings for us. 'Land, honey,' said she, 'I cert'n'y am thankful that we's goin' back to civilization. I want to climb on a real street-car again. I want to ride in an elevator. I don't care if I never sets foot in one of dem slippery little launches again, long's I live. But most of all I want to tote dese lambs out of this swamp and on to de dry land before dey grows up plumb web-footed.'"

In the midst of the laugh that followed, a launch whistled from down the canal.

"There's Mulcahy now. Hurry, Ned. Go down to Grafton and send your telegram to head-quarters. Good-by, folks! Come over to the martin-box to-night and we'll hold one last celebration."

Sally Lou tossed her baby to her shoulder. Away she sped beside her husband. Marian looked after the gay, hurrying figures. Then, still bewildered, she turned to Roderick.

"Well! What will happen next! Ned and Sally Lou ordered to Virginia; you promoted – it takes my breath away! But, Rod!" Her voice rose with a startled note. She looked up keenly at her brother's grave face. "You – you dear, cold-blooded old slow-coach! How can you look so pensive and perplexed? Of all the splendid, splendid news! How could you keep still and not tell the Burfords? How can you keep still now? If I wasn't so tired, I'd dance a jig right here on your desk!"

"I ought to be dancing jigs myself," Roderick answered. "I don't half deserve this magnificent chance, I know that. But I – I don't know what to say. I'm facing a dead wall."

"Rod, what do you mean? Of course you will accept this promotion. You must. There can't be any question!" Marian was on her knees by his chair now, clasping his cold hands in her own. Her voice rang sharp with angry affection. "Don't halt and fumble so, brother! Don't you remember, three months ago, how you fretted and hesitated about taking the position that you are holding to-day? See how you have succeeded in it! Yet look at you! To-day you are wavering and boggling and hanging back, just as you did then."

"I'm hanging back, yes. But not for the same reason." Roderick looked down at her with dark, troubled eyes. "That time, I hesitated to accept on your account. This time, I'm hesitating on my own."

"Why, Roderick Hallowell! You are not afraid of hard work, nor of taking chances, either. Rod, tell me this minute. Are you ill? What is it, dear?"

"Nonsense. I'm perfectly well. But I am tired out. I don't know how to tell you what I mean. So tired that I dread the mere thought of going on a new contract, and taking charge of a new crew, and breaking myself in to a new piece of work. Yes, it does sound cowardly. But I cannot see my way clear. I don't believe I dare take it up."

Marian looked at him closely.

"Sleep on this, Rod. A night's rest will give you a different light on the matter."

"A night's rest won't make any difference in the facts, Sis. The position is too complicated for a greenhorn like me. I believe I could assemble the plant, all right. And I think I could handle the laborers. But the endless outside detail is what I'm afraid of. That, and the responsibility, too. For instance, on a contract like this one in Iowa, the engineers must act as paymasters, each for his division. That means, reckon the men's time daily; make out their checks; handle their wages for them; and so on. Then there are my tabulated reports for the head office. Then my supplies. You have seen with your own eyes how much time and work just the buying of coal and machinery can demand. Then there would be a thousand smaller matters to look after. Taking it all in all, I don't want to make a try at this offer, then fail. So the sensible thing to do is, meekly to ask the company for a less impressive post."

"All that you would need for the extra work that you describe would be a competent book-keeper, Rod."

"Exactly!" Rod laughed shortly. "But a 'competent' book-keeper is the last employé that one can find for such hard, isolated work as this. What I need is not just a man to add columns for me. I need another brain, an extra pair of hands. I need the sort of first-aid that you have been giving me all these weeks, Sis. That's the sort of help that you can't buy for love nor money. That's all."

Marian studied her brother's face. When she spoke, her voice was very gentle and low.

"All right, Rod. Telegraph head-quarters that you will accept."

"Why?"

"Because – I am going to take that position as book-keeper. There, now!"

Roderick sat up with some vehemence.

"Marian Hallowell, I think I see myself letting you do any more of my work. You're going back to college next week, for commencement. Then you may come West again, if you're determined to stay somewhere near me. I'm mighty glad to have you within reach, I must admit that. But you are not to live down in the woods any longer. And not another stroke of my work shall you do."

"Why not? Am I such a poor stenographer?"

Roderick laughed at her injured tone. Pride and affection mingled in that laugh.

"You have been invaluable, Sis. You know that perfectly well. I'd never have pulled through this month without you. You have been of more real use than any three ordinary stenographers rolled together. For you have used your own brains and will and courage. You have not stood gracefully by and waited for orders. You have marched right on, and you have done a man's work straight through. But our long pull is over now. And you are well and strong again, I'm thankful to say. So back to the East you go, old lady. No more contract jobs for you."

Marian's eyes narrowed ominously. Deliberately she seated herself on the arm of her brother's chair. Gently but firmly she seized him by both ears.

"Now, Roderick Hallowell, listen to me. Three months ago the company offered you this position. I wanted you to accept it. But, of all things, I did not want to go West with you. I teased and coaxed and whined. Much good my whining did me. For you just set that Rock-o'-Gibraltar chin of yours, and took me firmly by the collar and marched me along.

"Now, Roderick Hallowell, look at me!"

Chuckling and shamefaced, Roderick struggled to turn his face away; but Marian's fingers gripped mercilessly tight.

"Look at me, I say. Answer. Didn't you bully me into giving up to your wishes, by threatening to refuse this position unless I'd come West with you? Didn't you drag me out here willy-nilly? Very well. You have had your way. You have brought me here, and —you can't send me back. There now."

"Marian, this is not fair." Roderick freed one ear and looked sternly at his sister. "You must finish your education. I have no right to keep you trailing around the country with me, wasting your time and cutting you off from your friends and denying you any home comfort. You shall not sacrifice yourself – "

"Sacrifice myself, indeed!" Marian took a fresh grip. "All I ask is to stay with you until next February. Then I'll go back and take up my college work at the exact point where I laid it down. I cannot graduate with my class, no matter how hard I try. My illness last winter took too much time. So I may as well join the class following, at mid-years'. In the mean time, we will have eight splendid months together. No, I have waked up, Rod. You can't hush me off to my selfish doze again."

"But, Marian, I can't possibly permit – "

"Yes, you can. And you will. As to home comforts – isn't it home, wherever we two are together? As to being cut off from my friends – aren't you the best chum I ever had? How do you suppose I like being cut off from you, brother?"

Rod did not answer. At last he looked up. The sober gratitude in his eyes brought an answering radiance to Marian's own.

"I give up, Sis. You shall stay with me for the summer, anyway. Then we'll see. Now run away, you blessed old partner!" His big hands shut on her shoulders with an eloquent grip. "I'm going to write to head-quarters and accept that position before I have time to turn coward again and change my mind."

Marian gave him a vigorous hug of satisfaction, and ran away. Letter in hand, Roderick went to his desk.

Carefully he set down his formal, courteous acceptance. He read the finished letter with critical care. Something was lacking. Yet he had taken all possible pains. What more could his reply need?

Suddenly his face brightened. He took up his pen. Slowly and carefully he added a final paragraph:

"In accepting this promotion, I wish to do so with the understanding that my sister, Miss Hallowell, who has acted as my assistant during the past month, shall continue to hold that position under the new contract. As her work is to be counted as a part of my own, I will request that my quarterly checks shall be made out, not to R. T. Hallowell, but to 'Hallowell & Hallowell,' as the salary is to be drawn by us on a basis of equal partnership."

He put down the finished sheet. His boyish face lighted with a slow, triumphant glow. He looked out across the gray wet country, the fog-banked river. To his eyes the dull scene was illumined. For his steady vision could see past that gray dreariness, far up the broad high-road of work and success that he had now set foot upon. These three months of heavy toil had proven him. He had seized his fighting chance, and he had made good. And now all the royal chances of his profession were waiting at his call.

"Though I never could have put it through without Marian," he said under his breath. "My splendid, plucky little old Sis! No wonder I made good, with such a partner. And from now on she shall be my real partner, bless her heart. 'Hallowell & Hallowell,' now and forever!