The Octopus : A Story of California

August drove across the open expanse of stubble toward the southwest, his eyes searching the horizon for the feather of smoke that would

he prospect to the south and west. It was the same as though the sea of land were, in reality, the ocean, and he, lost in an open boat, were scanning the w

south into the white sheen of sky, immediately over the hor

t at length he reached the harvester. He found, however, that it had been halted. The sack sewers, together with the header-man, were

Billy?" demanded S

neer tur

better increase the speed of the cup-carrier,

ay that was all right,

s she

sacks to the acre right along here;

in the wo

sack sewers

we've been throwing off

ood, that

is share in the lands which had just been absorbed by the corporation he served, just how many thousands of bushels of this marvellous crop were his property. Through all these years of confusion, bickerings, open hostility and, at last, actual warfare he had waited, nursi

stoked vigorously, the two sack sewers resumed their posts on the sacking platform, putting on the

s slid and moved like smooth flowing streams; the separator whirred, the agitator jarred and crashed; cylinders, augers, fans, seeders and elevators, drapers and chaff-carriers clattered, rumbled, buzzed, and clanged. The steam hissed and rasped; the ground reverberated a hollo

entire harvest, snarling and slobbering in a welter of warm vapour, acrid smoke, and blinding, pungent clouds of chaff. It moved belly-deep in the standing grain, a hippopotamus, half-mired in river ooze, gorging rushes,

e. The trepidation and jostling of the machine shook him till his teeth chattered in his head. His ears were shocked and assaulted by a myriad-tongued clamour,

e cleaner, and from this into the mouth of a half-full sack spouted an

at rolled and dashed tumultuous into the sack. In half a minute-sometimes in twenty seconds-the sack was full, was passed over to the

m, of men and boys, looked to this spot-the grain chute from the harvester into the sacks. Its volume was the index of failure or success, of riches or poverty. And at this point, the labour of the rancher ended. Here, at the lip of the chute, he parted company with his grain, and from here the wheat streamed forth to feed the world. Th

used up all the sacks. But S. Behrman's foreman, a new man on Los Muertos, put in a

levator at Port Cos

" replied

s for Liverpool and the East took on their cargoes. To this end, he had bought and greatly enlarged a building at Port Costa, that was already

allon's buyer was in Bonneville yesterday. He's buying for Fallon and

hip

with him. There's about fifty thousand tons of disengaged shipping in San Francisco Bay right now, and ships are fighting for charters. I wired McKiss

," observed the superintendent

I'm not selling to any middle-man-not to Fallon's buyer. He only put me on to the thing. I'm acting direct with these women people, and I've got to have some hand in shipping this st

Road turned southward towards the Los Muertos ranch house. He had not gone far, however, before he became aware of a familiar figure on horse-back, jogging slowly al

ain, Mr. Presley?" he observed. "I

d-bye to my friends," a

ng a

to In

word. For you

es

he other. "By the way," he added,

d followed so swiftly upon one another that he had begun to

do you mean

n convicted. The judge

nches by the County Road, Presley repeated these words to

row, bald, cheerless; the prison garb, the prison fare, and round all the grim granite of insuperable barriers, shutting out the world, shutting in the man with outcasts, with the pariah dogs of society, thieves, murderers, men below the beas

light. For all the tragedy of his wife's death, Caraher was none the less an evil influence among the ranchers, an influence that worked only to the inciting of crime. Unwilling to venture himself, to risk his o

wn was half dead and over a foot high; the beginnings of weeds showed here and there in the driveway.

pression of one to whom a contingency, long dreaded, has arrived and passed. The stolidity of a settled grief, of an irreparable calamity, of a despair from whi

Just Magnus and myself-all there is left of us. There is very little money left; Magnus can hardly

the

g back to teach-literature." She smiled wearily. "It is beginning all over again, isn't it? Only t

Presley said, "that will be s

id slowly, "you have n

ou mean? Isn't

him? He is in the offic

He hesitated a

I should like to see her before I go." "Go in and see M

ith the glass roof, and after knocking three tim

that once had held the back rigid, the chin high, had softened and stretched. A certain fatness, the obesity of inertia, hung heavy around the hips and abdomen, the eye was watery and vague, the cheeks and chin uns

he soiled shirt. His hands were stained with ink, and these, the only members of his body that yet appeared to retain their activity, were busy with a great pile of papers,-o

pile on his right hand. When all the papers were in one pile, he reversed the process, taking from his right hand to place upon his left, then back from left to right

g forward. Magnus turned slowly about and looked

at length, "

bout upon the floor. "I've come to say good-bye

why it's Presley.

I'm going away. I've

his brows, "what are y

ing awa

e of the desk, he seemed lost in thought. There

u getting o

ooked up

" he said. "How do

ting on all

ng away. I've come to say good-bye. No-" He interrupted him

ing away, too, yo

tated a long time, groping for the right word, "I

os," put i

's right, Los Muertos. I don't know

u will be better

sprang up with unexpected agility and stood against the wall, drawing on

down near the desk, drawing the links of h

sk you, Governor, if my carpenters can begin work in here day after to-morrow. I want to take down that partition there,

ow. There was that same alertness in his demeanour that

"you can send your men here.

ou, Governor." "No, you will not

can do for y

thi

. We still want an assistant in the local freight manager's office. Now, what do you say to having a try at it? There's a salary of fifty a m

hus openly and in his hearing? An explanation occurred to him. Was this merely a pleasantry on the part of S. Behrman, a way of enjoying to the full his t

he repeated. "Will

ST?" inquired

cried S. Behrman. "I'm offering you a

s, I'll

me over to

'll com

turn 'railroad

urn rai

mes when you'll have t

e orders

al to railroad, you kn

oyal to th

like the

es

who at once resumed his seat an

e railroad agent: "I gue

," answered

, you know you can

e, he had grown fatter than ever, and the linen vest, stamped with a multitude of interlocked

the man a moment

ing tempestuous through all his bones. Now, however, he found to his surprise that his fury had lapsed to a profo

s place for me. I couldn't live here where I should have to see you, o

s foolishness, that kind of talk; though, of course, I understand how you

wa

ley," returned S. Behrman with perfect aplomb

burst upon him and he laughed aloud. "It don't seem as though you could be brought to book, S. Behrman, by anybody, or by any means, does it? They can't get at you through the co

us," he said, turning once more to the Governor. "Well, I'll think over what you say, and let you know if I

fallen. What other scenes of degradation were enacted in that room, how much further S. Behrman car

isarray, a great packing-up was in progress; trunks, half-full, stood in the hallways, crates and cases in a litte

l valise full of his personal effects; at the doorway he paused and, holding

oom, remembering the scenes that he had witnessed there-the conference when Osterman had first suggested the fight for Railroad Commissioner and then later the attack on

feminine and contradictory daintinesses were nowhere to be seen. Her statuesque calm evenness of contour yet remained, but it was the calmness of great sorrow, of infinite resignation. Beautiful she still remained, but she was older. The seriou

er, the outline of her full lips and round chin was a little sharp; her arms, those wonderful, beautiful arms of hers, were a little shrunken. But her eyes were as wide open as always, rimmed as ever by the thin, intensely black

and. "You were good to want to see me befor

own upon

wn here any longer. I am going to take a long ocean voyage. My ship sails in a few day

hing. Papa is doing well

are w

s gesture with both her h

ee," she

ontrary. Adversity had softened her, as well as deepened her. Presley saw that very clearly. Hilma had arrived now at her perfect maturity; she had known great love and she had known great grief, and the woman that had awakened in her with her affection for Annixter had been strengthened and infinitely ennobled by his death. What if things had been

o be strong and noble because of her, to reshape his purposeless, half-wasted life with her nobility and purity and gentleness fo

e knew that this was not sudden. Without realising it, he had been from the first drawn to Hilma, and all through these last terrible days, since the time he had seen her at Los Muertos, just af

nhappy, Hilma, that you can look forwa

appy in remembering him than happy in forgetting him. He was my whole world, literally and truly. N

belonged to your husband can always keep him sacred, that part of you belongs to him and he to it. But you are young; you have all your life to live yet. Your sorrow need not be

ed, "and I never thought ab

and above all things I do not want to see your life wasted. I am going away and it

es, I hope when you come back-if you ever do-you will still be that. I do not know why y

le longer, and at

aid. "It would only serve to make her very unhappy. Wil

red Hilma. "

be nothing more for either of the

e said, as she

ed it to

ered. "Good-bye and

get to his horse unobserved, he came suddenly upon Mrs. Dyke and Sidney on the porch of the house. He had fo

he took her hand, "in this break-u

n Francisco. I have a sister there

about yourse

a quiet voice, monot

son why I should live any longer. My son is in prison for

e, his arm about little Sidney's shoulder, he knew that he was seeing the beginnings of the wreck of another family and that, like Hilda Hooven, another baby girl was to be started in life, through no fault of hers, fearfully handicapped, weighed down at the threshold of existence with a load of disgrace. Hilda Hooven and Sidney Dyke, what was to be their

said, holding

od-

bye, S

ing his satchel about his shoulders by the long strap with which it was provided,

se were being remodelled, at length, to suit the larger demands of the New Agriculture. A strange man came out by the road gate; no doubt, the

new as well as to the old regime. The same dusty buggies and buckboards were tied under the shed, and as Pres

and crossing the northwest corner of Los Muertos and the line of the railroad, turned back along

on-like tower of the artesian well was motionless; the great barn empty; the windows of the ranch house, cook house, and dairy bo

SE PREMISES WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULLEST

anches opened out forever and forever under the stimulus of that measureless range of vision. The whole gigantic sweep of the San Joaquin expanded Titanic before the eye of the mind, flagellated with heat, quivering and shimmering under the sun's red eye. It was the season after the h

erides that fluttered and fell and were forgotten between dawn and dusk. Vanamee had said there was no death. But for one second Presley could go one step further. Men were naught, death was naught, life was naught; FORCE only e

sun and the stars keeping time as the eternal symphony of reproduction swung in its tremendous cadences like the colossal pendu

rdly more than a dot, but there was something unmistakably familiar in his gait; and besides this, Presley could fancy that he was hatless. He touched his pony with his spur. Th

t great sadness which for so long had brooded over him was gone; the grief that once he had fancied deathless was, indeed, dead, or rather swallowed up in a victorious joy that radiated like sunlight at dawn from the deep-set eyes

take it, thank God, that it is not. Does the grain of wheat, hidden for certain seasons in the dark, die? The grain we think is dead RESUMES AGAIN; but how? Not as one grain, but as twenty. So all life. Death is only real for all the detritus of the world, for all the sorrow, for all the injustice, for all the grief. Presley, the good never dies; evil dies, cruelty, oppression, selfishness, greed-these die; but nobility, but love, but sacrifice, but generosity, but truth, thank God for it, small as they are, difficult as it is to discover them-these live forever, these are eternal. You are all broken, all cast d

mind full of new thoughts, held his

to me, more beautiful than ever. Do not ask me any further. To put this story, this idyl, into words, w

he friends clasped

you, listen to them, and remember them, because I know I speak the truth. Evil is short-lived. Never

htful, his hands clasped behind him, passed on through the ranche

e been Annixter's home; now through the rustling and, as yet, uncut wheat of Quien Sabe! now treading the slope

ence of joy in the crystal sunlight as the dawn expanded roseate, and at length flamed dazzling to the zenith w

Sabe rancho. He turned eastward, facing the celestial glory of the day and sent his voic

ranch was no longer royal with colour. The roses, the lilies, the carnations, the hyacinths, the poppies, the violets, the mignonette, all these had vanished, the little valley was without colour; where once it had exh

, material, who at last issued forth from the entrance of the little valley. Romance had vanished, but better than romance was here. Not a manifestation,

ion of the night had been beautiful, but what was it compared to this? Reality was better than Romance. The simple honesty of a loving, trusting heart was better than a legend of flowers, an hallucination of the moonlight. She came nearer. Bathed in sunlight, he saw her face to face, saw her hair hanging in two strai

d the still air heavy with perfume, she had at last come to him. The moonlight, the flowers, and the dream were al

arms to him. He caught her to him, and she, tu

I love you,"

ught and greatly enlarged his new elevator at this port, he had never seen it. The work had been carried on through agents, S. Behrman having far too man

ippers he was practically alone in his way of handling his wheat. They handled the grain in bags; he, however, preferred it in the bulk. Bags were sometimes four cents apiece, and he had decided to build his elevator and bulk his grain therein, rath

ownright sentiment. So long had he planned for this day of triumph, so eagerly had he looked forward to it, that now, when it had come, he wished to enjoy it to its fullest extent, wished to miss no feature of the

eam, loaded with wheat to the Plimsoll mark, ready to depart with the next tide. But many others laid their great flanks alongside the docks and at that moment were being filled by derrick and crane with thousands upon thousands of bags of wheat. The scene was brisk; the cranes creaked and swung incessantly with a rattle of chains; stevedores and wharfingers toile

grain bags, halted drays, crates and boxes of merchandise, with an occasional pyramid of salmon cases, S. Behrman took his way. Cabled to the dock, close under his elevator, l

ay and found the mate on the quarter

ed, "how are y

l snugged down tight by this time, day after to-morrow. It's a great saving of t

round, I believe,"

nswered the m

hold of the ship. A great iron chute connected this hatch with the

ld with an incessant, metallic roar, persistent, steady, inevitable. No men were in sight. The place was deserted. No human agency seemed to be back

tallic lining of the chute. He put his hand once into the rushing tide, and the contact rasp

ma of the raw cereal. It was dark. He could see nothing; but all about and over the opening of the hat

re, which, as the cataract from above plunged into it, moved and shifted in long, slow eddies. As he stood there, this cataract on a sudden increased in volume

degrees, his wits steadied themselves and his breath returned to him. He looked about and above him. The daylight in the hold was dimmed and clouded by the thick, chaff-dust thrown off by the pour of grain, and even this dimness

uttered, "he

ay incessantly in thick layers, flowing in all directions with the nimbleness of water. Even as S. Behrman spoke, a wave of grain poured ar

h dust than with air. At times he could not breathe at all, but gagged and gasped, his lips distended. But search as he would he could find no outlet to the hold, no stairway, no companion ladder. Again and again, staggering along in the black darkness, h

t all." He uttered a great shout. "Hello,

ch. The flying grains of wheat, spattering as they fell, stung his face like wind-driven particles of ice. It was a veritable torture; his hands smarted with it. Once he was all but blinded. Fur

penetrate the thunder of the chute, and horrified, he discovered that so soon as he stood motionless upon the wheat, he sank into it. Before he knew it, he was kne

rcilessly, pitilessly, the unnumbered multitude of hurtling grains flagellated and beat and tore his flesh. Blood streamed from his forehead and, thickening with the powder-like chaff-dust, blinded his eyes. He struggled to his feet once more. An avalanche from the cone of wheat buried him to his thighs. He was forced back

the wheat, as if moving with a force all its own, shot do

to collect his thoughts, to calm himself. Surely there must be some way of escape; surely he was not to die like

again and sent a great layer of grain rippling and tumbling toward

bling and made fo

God, I must think of s

retreated. Once more he crawled staggering to the foot of the cataract, screaming till his ears s

exhausted, gasping for breath in the dust-thickened air. Roused again by the slow advance of the tide, he leaped up and stumbled away, blinded with the agony in his eyes, only to crash against the metal hull of the vessel. He turned about, the blood streaming from his face, and paused to collect his senses, and with a rush, an

or help. His bleeding throat and raw, parched lips refused to utter but a wheezing moan. Once more he tried to look toward the one patch of fai

ouser legs, it covered the great, protuberant stomach, it ran at last in rivulets into the distended, gasping mouth. It covered the face. Upon the surface of the Wheat, under the chute, nothing moved but the Wheat itself. There was no sign of life. Then, for an instant, the surface stirred. A hand, fat, with short fingers and swollen veins, reached up, clu

CLU

to San Francisco, anchoring in the stream off the City front. A few hours after her arrival, Presley, waiting at his club, received a

d to Cedarquist's office to say good-bye. He

down. "He's in the new politics with a vengeance, isn't he? And our own dear Ra

Presley. "Well, he kn

enture-the organizing of a line of clipper wheat s

f the 'Swanhilda'? From the sale of the plant and scrap iron of the Atlas Works. Yes, I've given it up definitely, that business. The people here would not back me up. But I'm working off on this new line now. It may break me, but we'll try it on. You know the 'Million Dollar Fair' was formally opened yesterday. There is," he added with a wink, "a Midway Pleasance in connection with the thing. Mrs. Cedarquist and our friend Hartrath 'got up a subscription' to construct a figure of California-heroic size-out of dried apricots. I ass

-bye,

out it, Presley," he observed, as

ack of food on a wheat sh

cannot live by bread alone.' We

-bye,

abruptly aware of a great wagon shrouded in white cloth, inside of which a bass

egular Republican Nominee

forefoot, her cordage vibrating and droning in the steady rush of the trade winds. It was drawing towards evening and her lights

ne from our position now through that point and carry it on about a hundred miles furt

ley, "I see. Thanks. I

ck, looked long and earnestly at the faint line of mountains

home. Bonneville was there, and Guadalajara and Los Muertos and Quien Sabe, the Missi

Annixter's, the harness room with its jam of furious men; the quiet garden of the Mission; Dyke's house, his flight upon the engine, his brave fight in the chaparral; Lyman Derrick at bay in the dining-room of the ranch house; the rabbit drive; the fight at the irrigating ditch, the shouting mob in the Bonneville Opera House. The drama was over. The fight of Ranch and Railroad had been wrought out to its dreadful close. It was true, as

mpt to do evil that good might come. It had enticed Lyman into its toils to pluck from him his manhood and his honesty, corrupting him and poisoning him beyond redemption; it had hounded Dyke from his legitimate employment and had made of him a highwayman and criminal. It had cast forth Mrs. Hooven to starve to death upon the City streets. It had driven Minna to prostitution. It had slain Ann

t in the black curtain, no glimmer through the night? Was good to be thu

d to the greatest numbers? What was the full round of the circle whose segment only he beheld? In the end, the u

ed in life lamentably handicapped; young girls were brought to a life of shame; old women died in the heart of life fo

antic, resistless, moved onward in its appointed grooves. Through the welter of blood at the irrigation ditch, through the sham charity and shallow philanthropy of famine re

dividual suffers, but the race goes on. Annixter dies, but in a far distant corner of the world a thousand lives are saved. The larger view always and thro