Somewhat better dressed than the Hillites from whom he sprang was this Whipper-in of the Acme Cotton Mills--somewhat better dressed, and with the air of one who had arisen above his surroundings. Yet, withal, the common, low-born, malicious instinct was there--the instinct which makes one of them hate the man who is better educated, better dressed than he. All told, it might be summed up and said of Jud Carpenter that he had all the instincts of a Hillite and all the arrogance of a manager.

"n.o.body understands that dog, Bonaparte, but me," said Carpenter after a while--"he's to dogs what his namesake was to man. He's the champ'un fighter of the Tennessee Valley, an' the only cross-eyed purp in the worl', as I have often said. Like all gen'uses of course, he's a leetle peculiar--but him and me--we understan's each other."

He pulled out some mill papers and was about to proceed to discuss his business when Travis interrupted:

"Hold on," he said, good humoredly, "after my experience with that cross-eyed genius of a dog, I'll need something to brace me up."

He handed Carpenter a gla.s.s and each drank off his c.o.c.ktail at a quaff.

Travis settled quickly to business. He took out his mill books, and for an hour the two talked in a low tone and mechanically. The commissary department of the mill was taken up and the entire accounts gone over. Memoranda were made of goods to be ordered. The accounts of families were run over and inspected. It was tedious work, but Travis never flagged and his executive ability was quick and incisive. At last he closed the book with an impatient gesture:

"That's all I'll do to-night," he muttered decisively. "I've other things to talk to you about. But we'll need something first."

He went to the side-board and brought out a decanter of whiskey, two goblets and a bowl of loaf sugar.

He laughed: "Mammy knows nothing about this. Two c.o.c.ktails are the limit she sets for me, and so I keep this private bottle."

He made a long-toddy for himself, but Carpenter took his straight. In all of it, his furtive eyes, shining out of the splotch of eyebrows above, glanced inquiringly around and obsequiously followed every movement of his superior.

"Now, Carpenter," said the Secretary after he had settled back in his chair and lit a cigar, handing the box afterwards to the other--"You know me--you and I--must understand each other in all things."

"'Bleeged to be that way," drawled the Whipper-in--"we must wu'ck together. You know me, an' that Jud Carpenter's motto is, 'mum, an'

keep movin'.' That's me--that's Jud Carpenter."

Travis laughed: "O, it's nothing that requires so much heavy villain work as the tone of your voice would suggest. We're not in a melodrama. This is the nineteenth century and we're talking business and going to win a thing or two by common sense and business ways, eh?"

Carpenter nodded.

"Well, now, the first is quite matter of fact--just horses. I believe we are going to have the biggest fair this fall we have ever had."

"It's lots talked about," said Carpenter--"'specially the big race an' purse you've got put up."

Travis grew interested quickly and leaned over excitedly.

"My reputation is at stake--and that of The Gaffs' stable. You see, Carpenter, it's a three-cornered race for three-thousand dollars--each of us, Col. Troup, Flecker and me, have put up a thousand--three heats out of five--the winner takes the stake. Col.

Troup, of Lenox, has entered a fast mare of his, and Flecker, of Tennessee, will be there with his gelding. I know Flecker's horse. I could beat him with Lizette and one of her legs tied up. I looked him over last week. Contracted heels and his owner hasn't got horse-sense to know it. It's horse-sense, Carpenter, that counts for success in life as in a race."

Carpenter nodded again.

"But it's different with Col. Troup's entry. Ever been to Lenox?" he asked suddenly.

Carpenter shook his head.

"Don't know anybody there?" asked Travis. "I thought so--just what I want."

He went on indifferently, but Carpenter saw that he was measuring his words and noting their effect upon himself. "They work out over there Tuesdays and Fridays--the fair is only a few weeks off--they will be stepping their best by Friday. Now, go there and say nothing--but just sit around and see how fast Col. Troup's mare can trot."

"That'll be easy," said Carpenter.

"I have no notion of losing my thousand and reputation, too." He bent over to Carpenter and laughed. "All's fair in love and--a horse race.

You know it's the 2:25 cla.s.s, and I've entered Lizette, but Sadie B.

is so much like her that no living man who doesn't curry them every day could tell them apart. Sadie B.'s mark is 2:15. Now see if Troup can beat 2:25. Maybe he can't beat 2:15."

Then he laughed ironically.

Carpenter looked at him wonderingly.

It was all he said, but it was enough for Carpenter. Fraud's wink to the fraudulent is an open book. Her nod is the nod of the Painted Thing pa.s.sing down the highway.

Base-born that he was--low by instinct and inheritance, he had never heard of so brilliant and so gentlemanly a piece of fraud. The consummate boldness of it made Carpenter's eyes twinkle--a gentleman and in a race with gentlemen--who would dare to suspect? It was the boldness of a fine woman, daring to wear a necklace of paste-diamonds.

He sat looking at Travis in silent admiration. Never before had his employer risen to such heights in the eyes of the Whipper-in. He sat back in his chair and chuckled. His furtive eyes danced.

"n.o.body but a born gen'us 'ud ever have tho'rt of that," he said--"never seed yo' e'kal--why, the money is your'n, any way you fix it. You can ring in Lizette one heat and Sadie B."----

"There are things to be thought and not talked of," replied Travis quickly. "For a man of your age ar'n't you learning to talk too much out loud? You go and find out what I've asked--I'll do the rest. I'm thinking I'll not need Sadie B. Never run a risk, even a dead sure one, till you're obliged to."

"I'll fetch it next week--trust me for that. But I hope you will do it--ring in Sadie B. just for the fun of it. Think of old bay-window Troup trottin' his mare to death ag'in two fast horses an' never havin' sense enough to see it."

He looked his employer over--from his neatly turned foot to the cravat, tied in an up-to-date knot. At that, even, Travis flushed.

"Here," he said--"another toddy. I'll trust you to bring in your report all right."

Carpenter again took his straight--his eyes had begun to glitter, his face to flush, and he felt more like talking.

Travis lit another cigar. He puffed and smoked in silence for a while. The rings of smoke went up incessantly. His face had begun to redden, his fingers to thrill to the tip with pulsing blood. With it went his final contingency of reserve, and under it he dropped to the level of the base-born at his side.

Whiskey is the great leveler of life. Drinking it, all men are, indeed, equal.

"When are you going out to get in more hands for the mill?" asked Travis after a pause.

"To-morrow----"

"So soon?" asked Travis.

"Yes, you see," said Carpenter, "there's been ha'f a dozen of the brats died this summer an' fall--scarlet fever in the mill."

Travis looked at him and smiled.

"An' I've got to git in some mo' right away," he went on. "Oh, there's plenty of 'em in these hills."

Travis smoked for a few minutes without speaking.

"Carpenter, had you ever thought of Helen Conway--I mean--of getting Conway's two daughters into the mill?" He made the correction with a feigned indifference, but the other quickly noticed it. In an instant Carpenter knew.

As a matter of fact the Whipper-in had not thought of it, but it was easy for him to say what he thought the other wished him to say.

"Wal, yes," he replied; "that's jes' what I had been thinkin' of.

They've got to come in--'ristocrats or no 'ristocrats! When it comes to a question of bread and meat, pedigree must go to the cellar."