The Octopus by Frank Norris (best e reader for academics TXT) đ
- Author: Frank Norris
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In an instant he dominated the entire group, imposing a respect that was as much fear as admiration. No one made response. For the moment he was the Master again, the Leader. Like so many delinquent schoolboys, the others cowered before him, ashamed, put to confusion, unable to find their tongues. In that brief instant of silence following upon Magnusâs outburst, and while he held them subdued and over-mastered, the fabric of their scheme of corruption and dishonesty trembled to its base. It was the last protest of the Old School, rising up there in denunciation of the new order of things, the statesman opposed to the politician; honesty, rectitude, uncompromising integrity, prevailing for the last time against the devious manoeuvring, the evil communications, the rotten expediency of a corrupted institution.
For a few seconds no one answered. Then, Annixter, moving abruptly and uneasily in his place, muttered:
âI spoke upon provocation. If you like, weâll consider it unsaid. I donât know whatâs going to become of usâgo out of business, I presume.â
âI understand Magnus all right,â put in Osterman. âHe donât have to go into this thing, if itâs against his conscience. Thatâs all right. Magnus can stay out if he wants to, but that wonât prevent us going ahead and seeing what we can do. Only thereâs this about it.â He turned again to Magnus, speaking with every degree of earnestness, every appearance of conviction. âI did not deny, Governor, from the very start that this would mean bribery. But you donât suppose that I like the idea either. If there was one legitimate hope that was yet left untried, no matter how forlorn it was, I would try it. But thereâs not. It is literally and soberly true that every means of helpâevery honest meansâhas been attempted. Shelgrim is going to cinch us. Grain rates are increasing, while, on the other hand, the price of wheat is sagging lower and lower all the time. If we donât do something we are ruined.â
Osterman paused for a moment, allowing precisely the right number of seconds to elapse, then altering and lowering his voice, added:
âI respect the Governorâs principles. I admire them. They do him every degree of credit.â Then, turning directly to Magnus, he concluded with, âBut I only want you to ask yourself, sir, if, at such a crisis, one ought to think of oneself, to consider purely personal motives in such a desperate situation as this? Now, we want you with us, Governor; perhaps not openly, if you donât wish it, but tacitly, at least. I wonât ask you for an answer tonight, but what I do ask of you is to consider this matter seriously and think over the whole business. Will you do it?â
Osterman ceased definitely to speak, leaning forward across the table, his eves fixed on Magnusâs face. There was a silence. Outside, the rain fell continually with an even, monotonous murmur. In the group of men around the table no one stirred nor spoke. They looked steadily at Magnus, who, for the moment, kept his glance fixed thoughtfully upon the table before him. In another moment he raised his head and looked from face to face around the group. After all, these were his neighbours, his friends, men with whom he had been upon the closest terms of association. In a way they represented what now had come to be his world. His single swift glance took in the men, one after another. Annixter, rugged, crude, sitting awkwardly and uncomfortably in his chair, his unhandsome face, with its outthrust lower lip and deeply cleft masculine chin, flushed and eager, his yellow hair disordered, the one tuft on the crown standing stiffly forth like the feather in an Indianâs scalp lock; Broderson, vaguely combing at his long beard with a persistent maniacal gesture, distressed, troubled and uneasy; Osterman, with his comedy face, the face of a music-hall singer, his head bald and set off by his great red ears, leaning back in his place, softly cracking the knuckle of a forefinger, and, last of all and close to his elbow, his son, his support, his confidant and companion, Harran, so like himself, with his own erect, fine carriage, his thin, beak-like nose and his blond hair, with its tendency to curl in a forward direction in front of the ears, young, strong, courageous, full of the promise of the future years. His blue eyes looked straight into his fatherâs with what Magnus could fancy a glance of appeal. Magnus could see that expression in the faces of the others very plainly. They looked to him as their natural leader, their chief who was to bring them out from this abominable trouble which was closing in upon them, and in them all he saw many types. Theyâ these men around his table on that night of the first rain of a coming seasonâseemed to stand in his imagination for many othersâall the farmers, ranchers, and wheat growers of the great San Joaquin. Their words were the words of a whole community; their distress, the distress of an entire State, harried beyond the bounds of endurance, driven to the wall, coerced, exploited, harassed to the limits of exasperation. âI will think of it,â he said, then hastened to add, âbut I can tell you beforehand that you may expect only a refusal.â
After Magnus had spoken, there was a prolonged silence. The conference seemed of itself to have come to an end for that evening. Presley lighted another cigarette from the butt of the one he had been smoking, and the cat, Princess Nathalie, disturbed by his movement and by a whiff of drifting smoke, jumped from his knee to the floor and picking her way across the room to Annixter, rubbed gently against his legs, her tail in the air, her back delicately arched. No doubt she thought it time to settle herself for the night, and as Annixter gave no indication of vacating his chair, she chose this way of cajoling him into ceding his place to her. But Annixter was irritated at the Princessâs attentions, misunderstanding their motive.
âGet out!â he exclaimed, lifting his feet to the rung of the chair. âLord love me, but I sure do hate a cat.â
âBy the way,â observed Osterman, âI passed Genslinger by the gate as I came in tonight. Had he been here?â
âYes, he was here,â said Harran, âandââ but Annixter took the words out of his mouth.
âHe says thereâs some talk of the railroad selling us their sections this winter.â
âOh, he did, did he?â exclaimed Osterman, interested at once. âWhere did he hear that?â
âWhere does a railroad paper get its news? From the General Office, I suppose.â
âI hope he didnât get it straight from headquarters that the land was to be graded at twenty dollars an acre,â murmured Broderson.
âWhatâs that?â demanded Osterman. âTwenty dollars! Here, put me on, somebody. Whatâs all up? What did Genslinger say?â
âOh, you neednât get scared,â said Annixter. âGenslinger donât know, thatâs all. He thinks there was no understanding that the price of the land should not be advanced when the P. and S. W. came to sell to us.â
âOh,â muttered Osterman relieved. Magnus, who had gone out into the office on the other side of the glass-roofed hallway, returned with a long, yellow envelope in his hand, stuffed with newspaper clippings and thin, closely printed pamphlets.
âHere is the circular,â he remarked, drawing out one of the pamphlets. âThe conditions of settlement to which the railroad obligated itself are very explicit.â
He ran over the pages of the circular, then read aloud:
ââThe Company invites settlers to go upon its lands before patents are issued or the road is completed, and intends in such cases to sell to them in preference to any other applicants and at a price based upon the value of the land without improvements,â and on the other page here,â he remarked, âthey refer to this again. âIn ascertaining the value of the lands, any improvements that a settler or any other person may have on the lands will not be taken into consideration, neither will the price be increased in consequence thereofâŠ. Settlers are thus insured that in addition to being accorded the first privilege of purchase, at the graded price, they will also be protected in their improvements.â And here,â he commented, âin Section IX. it reads, âThe lands are not uniform in price, but are offered at various figures from $2.50 upward per acre. Usually land covered with tall timber is held at $5.00 per acre, and that with pine at $10.00. Most is for sale at $2.50 and $5.00.â
âWhen you come to read that carefully,â hazarded old Broderson, âitâitâs not so VERY REASSURING. âMOST is for sale at two-fifty an acre,â it says. That donât mean âALL,â that only means SOME. I wish now that I had secured a more iron-clad agreement from the P. and S. W. when I took up its sections on my ranch, andâand Genslinger is in a position to know the intentions of the railroad. At least, heâheâhe is in TOUCH with them. All newspaper men are. Those, I mean, who are subsidised by the General Office. But, perhaps, Genslinger isnât subsidised, I donât know. IâI am not sure. Maybeâperhapsâ
âOh, you donât know and you do know, and maybe and perhaps, and youâre not so sure,â vociferated Annixter. âHow about ignoring the value of our improvements? Nothing hazy about THAT statement, I guess. It says in so many words that any improvements we make will not be considered when the land is appraised and thatâs the same thing, isnât it? The unimproved land is worth two-fifty an acre; only timber land is worth more and thereâs none too much timber about here.â
âWell, one thing at a time,â said Harran. âThe thing for us now is to get into this primary election and the convention and see if we can push our men for Railroad Commissioners.â
âRight,â declared Annixter. He rose, stretching his arms above his head. âIâve about talked all the wind out of me,â he said. âThink Iâll be moving along. Itâs pretty near midnight.â
But when Magnusâs guests turned their attention to the matter of returning to their different ranches, they abruptly realised that the downpour had doubled and trebled in its volume since earlier in the evening. The fields and roads were veritable seas of viscid mud, the night absolutely black-dark; assuredly not a night in which to venture out. Magnus insisted that the three ranchers should put up at Los Muertos. Osterman accepted at once, Annixter, after an interminable discussion, allowed himself to be persuaded, in the end accepting as though granting a favour. Broderson protested that his wife, who was not well, would expect him to return that night and would, no doubt, fret if he did not appear. Furthermore, he lived close by, at the junction of the County and Lower Road. He put a sack over his head and shoulders, persistently declining Magnusâs offered umbrella and rubber coat, and hurried away, remarking that he had no foreman on his ranch and had to be up and about at five the next morning to put his men to work.
âFool!â muttered Annixter when the old man had gone. âImagine farming a ranch the size of his without a foreman.â
Harran showed Osterman and Annixter where they were to sleep, in adjoining rooms. Magnus soon afterward retired.
Osterman found an excuse for going to bed, but Annixter and Harran remained in the latterâs room, in a haze of blue tobacco smoke, talking, talking. But at length, at the end of all argument, Annixter got up,
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