But Thorpe was of the kind that hangs on until the last possible second, not so much in the expectation of winning, as in sheer reluctance to yield.Such men shoot their last cartridge before surrendering, swim the last ounce of strength from their arms before throwing them up to sink, search coolly until the latest moment for a way from the burning building,--and sometimes come face to face with miracles.
Thorpe's descriptions were contained in the battered little note-book he had carried with him in the woods.For each piece of land first there came the township described by latitude and east-and-west range.After this generic description followed another figure representing the section of that particular district.So 49--17W--8, meant section 8, of the township on range 49 north, 17 west.
If Thorpe wished to purchase the whole section, that description would suffice.On the other hand, if he wished to buy only one forty, he described its position in the quarter-section.Thus SW--NW 49--17--8, meant the southwest forty of the northwest quarter of section 8 in the township already described.
The clerk marked across each square of his map as Thorpe read them, the date and the purchaser's name.
In his note-book Thorpe had, of course, entered the briefest description possible.Now, in dictating to the clerk, he conceived the idea of specifying each subdivision.This gained some time.
Instead of saying simply, "Northwest quarter of section 8," he made of it four separate descriptions, as follows:--Northwest quarter of northwest quarter; northeast of northwest quarter; southwest of northwest quarter; and southeast of northwest quarter.
He was not so foolish as to read the descriptions in succession, but so scattered them that the clerk, putting down the figures mechanically, had no idea of the amount of unnecessary work he was doing.The minute hands of the clock dragged around.Thorpe droned down the long column.The clerk scratched industriously, repeating in a half voice each description as it was transcribed.
At length the task was finished.It became necessary to type duplicate lists of the descriptions.While the somnolent youth finished this task, Thorpe listened for the messenger boy on the stairs.
A faint slam was heard outside the rickety old building.Hasty steps sounded along the corridor.The landlooker merely stopped the drumming of his fingers on the broad arm of the chair.The door flew open, and Wallace Carpenter walked quickly to him.
Thorpe's face lighted up as he rose to greet his partner.The boy had not forgotten their compact after all.
"Then it's all right?" queried the latter breathlessly.
"Sure," answered Thorpe heartily, "got 'em in good shape."At the same time he was drawing the youth beyond the vigilant watchfulness of Mr.Morrison.
"You're just in time," he said in an undertone."Never had so close a squeak.I suppose you have cash or a certified check:
that's all they'll take here."
"What do you mean?" asked Carpenter blankly.
"Haven't you that money?" returned Thorpe quick as a hawk.
"For Heaven's sake, isn't it here?" cried Wallace in consternation.
"I wired Duncan, my banker, here last night, and received a reply from him.He answered that he'd see to it.Haven't you seen him?""No," repeated Thorpe in his turn.
"What can we do?"
"Can you get your check certified here near at hand?""Yes."
"Well, go do it.And get a move on you.You have precisely until that boy there finishes clicking that machine.Not a second longer.""Can't you get them to wait a few minutes?""Wallace," said Thorpe, "do you see that white whiskered old lynx in the corner? That's Morrison, the man who wants to get our land.If I fail to plank down the cash the very instant it is demanded, he gets his chance.And he'll take it.Now, go.Don't hurry until you get beyond the door: then FLY!"Thorpe sat down again in his broad-armed chair and resumed his drumming.The nearest bank was six blocks away.He counted over in his mind the steps of Carpenter's progress; now to the door, now in the next block, now so far beyond.He had just escorted him to the door of the bank, when the clerk's voice broke in on him.
"Now," Smithers was saying, "I'll give you a receipt for the amount, and later will send to your address the title deeds of the descriptions."Carpenter had yet to find the proper official, to identify himself, to certify the check, and to return.It was hopeless.Thorpe dropped his hands in surrender.
Then he saw the boy lay the two typed lists before his principal, and dimly he perceived that the youth, shamefacedly, was holding something bulky toward himself.
"Wh--what is it?" he stammered, drawing his hand back as though from a red-hot iron.
"You asked me for a telegram," said the boy stubbornly, as though trying to excuse himself, "and I didn't just catch the name, anyway.
When I saw it on those lists I had to copy, I thought of this here.""Where'd you get it?" asked Thorpe breathlessly.
"A fellow came here early and left it for you while I was sweeping out," explained the boy."Said he had to catch a train.It's yours all right, ain't it?""Oh, yes," replied Thorpe.
He took the envelope and walked uncertainly to the tall window.He looked out at the chimneys.After a moment he tore open the envelope.
"I hope there's no bad news, sir?" said the clerk, startled at the paleness of the face Thorpe turned to the desk.
"No," replied the landlooker."Give me a receipt.There's a certified check for your money!"Chapter XXIV
Now that the strain was over, Thorpe experienced a great weariness.
The long journey through the forest, his sleepless night on the train, the mental alertness of playing the game with shrewd foes all these stretched his fibers out one by one and left them limp.
